Ramin Bahrani's GOODBYE SOLO -- a big leap forward

Continuing his worthwhile exploration of today's immigrant experience in America, Ramin Bahrani (below) comes up with his best film so far -- GOODBYE SOLO -- giving us a fuller emotional experience, a deeper study of character and more technically proficient moviemaking. After Man Push Cart (in which an immigrant's big secret is revealed to little effect) and Chop Shop (the young immigrant here

is constantly running, rushing, working -- just to keep in place), Bahrani's latest quiets down and allows us to spend some time with an immigrant who is actually rather relaxed and learning to cope with our America.

Perhaps it helps that we are no longer in Manhattan or Queens, NY, where life tends to move fast. Instead, Bahrani sets his new film in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, where the slower pace proves a boon to characters and viewers alike, as Solo, a Senegalese emigrant, now drives a taxi, earns a decent wage and is living with a strong-willed Mexican woman and her daughter. In fact, he's secure enough that he's studying hard to become a airline flight attendant. The initially improbable, but soon beautifully fleshed-out relationship that evolves between Solo and one of his fares -- an elderly fellow named William -- provides the motor for the movie, which chugs along, building up a nice head of steam (a little mystery and suspense, a lot of caring) as it moves toward an ending that satisfies even as it withholds.

The characters of the two leading men are at such odds, and both are played so well, that this produces a wonderful tension to the film. We appreciate and love Solo's kindliness, even as we come to understand and respect William's need for privacy. The movie occasionally comes close to allowing Solo to go too far, but fortunately Bahrami backs off in time. Souleymane Sy Savane (shown right, above and below, as Solo) makes his first screen appearance here, while Red West (shown left, above and below, as William) has more more than 80 film and TV roles under his belt. Both men could hardly be better, and the supporting actors register as equally true in less detailed roles.

Among the many things that Mr. Bahrami shows us (he's not the kind of moviemaker who explains) is that, yes, immigrants to our shores have much to gain from America. With each new Bahrami film, however, it becomes clearer that we have much to gain from them, as well.

Roadside Attractions is opening Goodbye Solo on Friday, March 27 at NYC's Angelika Film Center, with a limited-release, national rollout to follow.

DVDebuts: CHRYSALIS and NOBEL SON

Trust Movies has fallen down on the job of late. He apologizes for this and promises to start doing a better job covering new DVD releases of note -- which was, in fact, how he began his reviewing career some years back. The opportunity to cover new films and interview their directors seems to be presenting itself more often. This can be awfully enticing, but as the economy continues to tailspin, with jobs disappearing and money growing tighter, there'll be more DVD watching and less venturing out to cinemas for most of us. So here's a heads-up on a couple of just-released movies worth your consideration.

The French don't attempt big-budget sci-fi all that often -- or, if they do, we certainly don't get to see the results over here, which, for this reason alone, makes CHRYSALIS worth a look. That the film is pretty good (and sometimes much better than that) is the gravy. Now, when I say "big-budget," I'm fairly certain that the cost here comes nowhere near Hollywood standards, yet director/co-writer Julien Leclercq and his excellent cinematographer Thomas Hardmeier turn blues, grays, whites and metallics into something futuristic and quite beautiful throughout. The movie begins with a mother/daughter chat in an auto, then cuts to a police chase taking place in what appears to be a rather "upscale" sewer in the Paris of a decade hence. Memory and identity are two of the film's concerns, and its pacing is nicely varied -- fast and furious to quiet and calm.

An ace cast is on hand, too -- including leading man Albert Dupontel (from Avenue Montaigne and A Very Long Engagement, shown in the first two photos, top) looking more buff and sexy than I recall from previous films. On the basis of Chrysalis, he could have a new career as an action star. It's nice, as well, to see Marthe Keller again, plus rising star Mélanie Thierry (above, left). And in Alain Figlarz (below, right, with Dupontel), the movie has a terrific villain (Figlarz also choreographed some good fight scenes). The director -- or perhaps his casting person, Franck Jouard -- has done a memorable job of bringing us actors with great faces. Notice in particular, the actress who plays Clara, Estelle Lefébure (above, right). Everywhere you look, there's someone riveting to capture your gaze.

Chrysalis is not a great film by any standards, but it worth a watch from sci-fi buffs and those who appreciate fine cinematography, a decent story, and good performances -- not to mention Leclercq's creative, if bizarre, use of the classic duet from Delibes' Lakmé. He couples this gorgeous music and song to holographic, technological images, and the result is something as original as it is beautiful.

Also worth viewing is NOBEL SON, the older film from Randall Miller that, for some reason, received a more recent theatrical release than did his later and immensely pleasurable Bottle Shock. "Son" received short shrift from many critics upon its theatrical opening a few months ago, but don't let that stop you from renting this "fun" ride from Mr. Miller, who, on the basis of these two movies seems happy to provide us with what might be called "entertainments" -- diversions, distractions -- for our debauched age.

Nobel Son combines genres as diverse as the kidnap-thriller, heist comedy and family drama, with events occurring around the themes of paternity, parenting, and learning what you're really good at. As wild as the story gets (quite, in fact), and although the director/co-writer (with Jody Savin) tosses in everything including the kitchen and two bathroom sinks, the movie manages to coalesce and grow richer as it progresses. Late in the game, there's a scene around a dinner table during which the film's title suddenly takes on immense resonance. For moments like this (and many more), I'll look forward to whatever else Mr. Miller may offer us. And while I could have used a few less stylistic "flourishes" (such as his speeded-up camera work), I think his efforts on the later Bottle Shock shows that he's learned to calm down.

How the filmmaker works out the manner in which everybody gets (or not) what and whom they deserve is clever indeed. "Everybody," in this case, includes of some of my and perhaps your favorites: Alan Rickman, Mary Steenburgen, Shawn Hatosy (who's terrific here), Danny DeVito, Eliza Dushku, Bill Pullman and -- the young man who was so good in Prime -- Bryan Greenberg.

Magic! Sean McGinly pulls off the rabbit trick in THE GREAT BUCK HOWARD

How is it that a movie (from its technical aspect, at least) so ordinary, if not bordering on the maladroit, turns out to be one of the genuinely sweetest and most enjoyable experiences of the year so far? Perhaps, as Grandma Wolf might say, "All the better to eat you with, my dear." THE GREAT BUCK HOWARD is a lot smarter than it initially looks. You sit there thinking, "Ordinary, obvious,"

even as you're getting caught up in the simple story of a young man (Colin Hanks), seeking a clue to what he might want to do with his life, who finds himself suddenly part of the world of the has-been "mentalist/magician" Buck Howard (John Malkovich). Not too long into things (the movie lasts less than 90 minutes), you're aware that something more is going on in than you'd first imagined.

This is due to the skill of a little known writer/director Sean McGinly (above, left), who, if there is any justice (don't even speculate!) will be much better known soon -- or eventually. Back in 2003 McGinly delivered a smart, funny and unusual movie called Two Days about an actor who has decided to commit suicide. (It starred Paul Rudd in one of his best roles to date; the other is I Could Never Be Your Woman. Yes, Rudd has made many more commercially successful movies -- these two went straight to video -- but if you care about how fine an actor he can be: probing, mysterious and withholding in "Days"; as loose, funny and amazing as we've ever seen him in "Woman," rent them both. And as an introduction to Mr. McGinly earlier on, Two Days is a must.)

But back to Buck Howard: I'm still rolling around my mind the reasons why it works so well. Start with its themes: entertainment -- and what this means to different audiences (Buck plays places like Bakersfield, CA, and Akron, OH). McGinly explores this from various angles and leaves you a bit richer and more thoughtful than when you sat down to watch his film. Then there's that thing about career, and what parents want for their children (Tom Hanks, as in "real life," plays Colin's father and also acted as one of the producers on the film). And finally there's "magic" itself: our need for it (or something like it) and what this gets us (the writer/director credits The Amazing Kreskin as providing the inspiration here). Mc Ginly weaves all these together, sometimes obviously, sometimes not, but usually quite gracefully.

Another reason for the success of the movie lies in its estimable cast. The younger Mister Hanks (shown right, with his "movie" dad, as Malkovich looms over them), so different here from the equally fine job he did as a stalker in Alone With Her, brings gravity, charm and the right amount of "ordinary guy" quality to his role. But it is Malkovich who finally carries the film. This actor has been so good so many times that it's pointless to babble much about the past. Buck Howard may be one of his "great" roles. You want to smack him in the kisser repeatedly throughout the film, and yet, by the finale, you end up somehow caring about him enormously. Malkovich merges ego with savvy, contempt with concern, showmanship with craftsmanship, and another twenty-odd competing characteristics to create one memorable guy. It's early in the year, but I'd predict his third Oscar nomination and maybe his first win.

Emily Blunt (left) is lovely and sweet in the relatively normal "girlfriend" role, Debra Monk and Steve Zahn play Ohio siblings, and Adam Scott (shown with C. Hanks, below), Ricky Jay and Griffin Dunne all deliver good work. (And there are countless appearances by celebs from Martha Stewart to Tom Arnold.) About that technical "deficiency": Tak Fujimoto, who knows his way around lights and a camera, did the cinematography. Yet everything here looks like so-so television. But then, Buck Howard made his name in TV (on the Tonight Show -- "but with Carson!") and now he plays those backwater venues. So perhaps the look is intentional. (Or maybe the budget was smaller than we think.)

I don't want to oversell this little film. I'll just say that, as the credits rolled, I was sitting in the screening room, grinning like an idiot and trying to hold back the tears.

The Great Buck Howard open Friday, March 20, at venues all around the country and will continue its national rollout through June.

McQueen's HUNGER: Opening up old wounds for a new generation

What a juxtaposition to read yesterday's David Park Op-Ed piece (about the recent terrorist killings in Northern Ireland) in The New York Times and then head directly out to a screening of HUNGER, the new movie by Britain's Turner Prize-winning film/photography artist and first-time filmmaker Steve McQueen. This extremely disturbing movie thrusts us back nearly three decades into the heat of the Irish "troubles" and the time of the famous hunger strike by (depending on one's viewpoint) patriot, politician or terrorist Bobby Sands, which resulted in his death some weeks later.

For a first-film, Hunger is a remarkably disciplined and accomplished work. It begins quietly, with hands being dipped into a bathroom sink full of water. From there we come to realize that the owner of these hands is in some sort of position of duty -- and danger. Enormous suspense grows quickly, as he prepares to leave his home via automobile. (Contrast this few minutes of film with the opening of the new French gangster opus Mesrine, and you'll see an almost perfect comparison of subtlety that draws us in and cliche that ends up as schlock.) From here we go to a prison where we meet guards and their prisoners, proceeding to some of the most vile scenes I've witnessed on film, made ever more so by the rigor brought to them by McQueen (shown left, above, with his star Michael Fassbender, right, and below).

The little political back-story we get comes via bits of radio announcements, newscasts and interviews we hear along the way. Hunger presumes its audience will have more than a nodding acquaintance with the Ireland and Britain of 30 years ago. This, of course, makes the movie anything but fit for mainstream America. Because so much of it is so brutal, it will also have difficulty filling art cinemas. But I suspect its filmmaker and US distributor realize this and will pleased to see the film stand as a kind of record of re-conceived events.

There is little spoken dialog for the first half of the movie; then mid-way, Sands meets with a Catholic priest (fine work from Liam Cunningham, shown right, below) and engages in a conversation that runs the gamut from bitterly hilarious to deeply sad while remaining on-point and explorative regarding the reason for Sands' upcoming hunger strike. The remainder of the film is devoted to that strike and its results.

Visually, McQueen does some splendid stuff (the cinematography is by Sean Bobbitt). One scene in particular spans the long hallway between the many cells -- from each of which spills the urine the inmates have collected to give back to their captors. We see the puddles collect and merge into a fine, if unusual, image of solidarity. Other images are equally strong, often arriving without dialog and always without needless explanation. Generally the director's pristine visuals work well. Only when it comes to the prisoner's shit-encrusted walls (their gift to themselves, as well as to their captors) do the visuals seems a bit too pristine. There's no sense of the smell that would have to be present, especially when a newcomer (Brian Milligan, shown below, right, with Liam McMahon) is introduced into the cell.

My biggest quibble with the movie, which I think succeeds admirably in accomplishing what it sets out to do, comes with its flashback finale. Under the circumstances of all that has preceded this, McQueen oddly resorts to a tried-and-true few moments that come off as very close to sentimental and cliched. Suddenly, a movie that has been rigorous and appalling goes soft. I don't think we need this. (Mainstream audiences might -- and god knows they've watched this sort of thing often enough by now -- but they're not likely to be in the theater or at home On-Demand when Hunger screens.) I guess all directors, even the very new and very talented, must make choices. Or concessions.

Hunger opens Friday, March 20, at the IFC Center, with a national release to follow. It will also be available nationwide on IFC Films’ video-on-demand platform, available to 50 million homes in all major markets.

Peter Davis' HEARTS & MINDS is back -- and we're still trying to win them

Those three resounding words hearts and minds were used back in the late 60s and early 70s as the catch-phrase for what America wanted/needed to do in Vietnam -- win over the hearts and minds of the South Vietnamese people so that they would finally understand what rewards awaited them if they joined us and fought the nasty North. Sure.

Peter Davis' film HEARTS & MINDS won the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature in April, 1975. Before that month was out, the Vietnam War had officially ended. In its day, Hearts and Minds seemed angry, provocative and on-target. While I missed the press screening for its re-release (it opens this week in NYC), I still have memories of seeing it during it's original playdate.

For those of us who had been protesting that war since soon after its beginning (for me, at least, that time was the early 60s -- though, according to Wikipedia, it began in 1959), the film presented little that was new, yet it's presentation and acceptance by much of the public seemed heartening. For those of us who had read Jean Lacouture's early warnings that the US was making a similar mistake to that made by the French in Vietnam, seeing America continue the conflict there in Southeast Asia left us angrier and more depressed as the years (more than a decade of them) continued to pass.

There has been talk afoot since the beginning of our current excursions into Afghanistan and Iraq that we were repeating our misadventure in Vietnam. Though I believe Iraq was indeed a misadventure, it seems to me that Afghanistan need not have been, though it is looking more and more like one these days. Yet, the comparison of the earlier war with the later one is wrong in many regards -- most particularly in trying to equate the secular Vietnamese (under Ho Chi Minh, fighting to keep their country from being needlessly separated) with the fundamentalist Taliban. They were/are both fighting the US to be sure, but the reasons are quite different, and the results are likely to be, as well.

It will be interesting to see the Peter Davis film again, 35 years later. If you've never seen it, you should. If you have, you're likely to be experiencing much of the same thoughts and feelings that I am and will want to take a second look -- if that look doesn't send you into a complete tailspin.

HEARTS & MINDS, digitally restored and remastered, opens March 20th at the Cinema Village in NYC, with a national rollout to follow in April.

Does ALEXANDER THE LAST augur Swanberg's swan song to Mumblecore?

TrustMovies asks the above question because Joe Swanberg's latest is such a major step up from his earlier work that one can only wonder where he'll go from here. I never bought into the Mumblecore moniker anyway: it was rarely the dialog or sound in these movies that annoyed -- more the fractured, hand-held camerawork that had me flummoxed. I'd have called the genre Wobblyview. But not this time.

ALEXANDER THE LAST offers, by earlier Swanberg stardards (though not by those of, say, Aaron Katz's Quiet City), near-pristine visuals; a story and characters that matter (mostly because these people seem to care more about themselves and others: maybe they're all -- including Swanberg -- growing up); a psychological astuteness that is surprising, to say the least; and a theme -- love and lust in art and life -- very much worth tackling. That Swanberg has cast more professional actors in many of the roles also seems to have made a big difference to his end result. Is this perhaps due to his recent connection with Noah Baumbach, who helped produce the film? Whatever:

Jess Weixler (below left), who brought so much in the way of looks, charm and acting talent to her earlier movies The Big Bad Swim and Teeth here proves she can help carry a movie based around talk, ideas and sex. Given a cast that includes ace actors Jane Adams (below, center, who brought the dead Little Children briefly to life and added to the delights of The Wackness) and Josh Hamilton (barely seen below right, from the brilliant stage version of The Cider House Rules, Sorry, Haters and the recent don't-dare-miss-it Outsourced) plus up-and-comers like Amy Seimetz (shown above, from Wristcutters), Barlow Jacobs (Shotgun Stories) and Mumblecore hero Justin Rice (shown two photos below, with guitar) there's hardly a scene in the movie that's not real and engaging.

Regarding the movie's theme, for those of you out there in loveland who make it a point never to date an actor of either sex (unless, of course, you're an actor yourself), this movie explains why your decision is such a smart one. By presenting in graphic detail -- visual, verbal, emotional -- what happens when two attractive people (Weixler and Jacobs) must create a "real" relationship on stage, Alexander the Last makes it clear that the temptation to cross over from art into life is probably more than most human beings can withstand. That the play-within-the-film's writing/directing creative team (Adams and Hamilton) are interested only in their "art" and not in what this is doing to the real lives involved (which, where art is concerned, is as it must be), makes things all the more difficult for the Weixler character's home life.

Psychologically, the movie is generally on target, too, perhaps most of all as Weixler, who's growing attracted to her co-star, virtually pimps out her sister to handle the real relationship (and sex) so that Weixler can somehow circumvent this by putting a semi-incestuous roadblock in her way. The repercussions all-round are not pretty but make sense, given the human predilection to, first, blame someone else.

All this is not to say that Swanberg has made a work of art. But since few films are, we can settle for an interesting (and short!) 72 minutes, during which he seems to have learned on-the-job, as do so many young writer/directors. When, as here, the movement is upwards, we go home from the theater happy.

Or remain home, if we've happened to watch the movie On-Demand, which is how much of the audience for Alexander the Last will be doing it. The film had its world premiere yesterday at the SXSW fest and simultaneously on the IFC Festival Direct, where it will be available nationwide on-demand for 90 days from most major cable systems. The film can be ordered in the IFC Films menu within each cable company's on-demand platforms (some will also offer a special SXSW-branded tab).

Which cable companies carry IFC Movies On Demand?
Try any of these below:
Bright House (Movies On Demand/IFC In Theaters)
CableVision (Movies On Demand/IFC In Theaters) or Ch. 508
Charter (Ch. 1 /Movies On Demand/IFC In Theaters)
Comcast (Ch. 1 /Movies On Demand/IFC In Theaters)
Cox (Ch. 1 /Movies On Demand/IFC In Theaters)
Insight (Ch. 1 /Movies On Demand/IFC In Theaters)
Time Warner (Movies On Demand/IFC In Theaters).

Rendez-vous: A program of French shorts

Unavailble for press screenings (and with no photos to make this blog look pretty), the FSLC's program TOUT COURT: NEW FRENCH SHORTS played yesterday, and will screen again tomorrow (the last day of Rendez-vous with French Cinema) at the Walter Reade Theater on Sunday, March 15, at 3:15pm. Tickets are available. Running just 90 minutes and including six short features (one of them animated), the collection proves properly varied and very worth seeing, particularly for aficionados of short subjects and/or things French.

The 17-minute Baby (Bébé) by and starring Clément Michel as a fellow about to "enjoy" fatherhood led off the program with charm and laughs, as new dad, new mom, dad's own mother and his clueless best friend do a little roundelay on the discovery of pregnancy, getting ready for the birth, and parenting the newborn. If there's nothing terribly new here, all of what we see is cute, clever -- and short enough not to wear out its welcome.

Clara Elalouf's New Skin (Peau neuve) with almost no dialog (and no subtitles, in any case) simply tracks the traffic in a French public bath and shows us a sample of life -- mostly immigrant -- that we're not used to seeing on these shores. Ms. Elalouf's camera is gentle and probing but never invasive and her film is quietly memorable.

The second-class status of French Arabs is given a smart pummeling in Bruno Danan's Good Night Malik (Bonne nuit Malik), a 15-minute film in which actor Zakariya Gouram give a wonderful performance as the man in charge of everything from his younger sibling to the doorway of a private club in which his job is to keep out Arabs. Class, economics, self-image and more are examined in this 15-minute film that could easily be expanded to vital and encompassing full-length.

The Garrel family (Philippe, Louis, etc.) has a new filmmaker aboard -- Caroline Deruas-Garrel -- whose The Fire, The Blood, The Stars (Le feu, le sang, les étoiles) escaped me somewhat, so if I ever get the chance to see it again, I will. A young girl, her mother and her grandfather are the three characters here who talk of fire, blood and stars, protest, revolution, things temporal and perhaps spiritual. The visuals and words make an alluring package, but I admit I did not always follow this one fully.

In My Little Brother from the Moon (Mon petit frère est de la lune) by Frédéric Philibert, a young girl tells us about her little brother, whom we get to know a bit better by the end of this intriguing animated short. It provides a different way to approach a subject often handled in films of late but not in the same manner as here, which is circumspect and subtle because, although the viewpoint is that of another small child, the viewer finishes the film with plenty of understanding and food for thought.

The most impressive of the lot was saved for last: My Name Is Dominic (Tous les enfants s’appellent Dominique) by Nicolas Silhol. The English title is a muffed translation of "All Kids Are Called Dominic," which makes its point much better than does the generic "My Name is Dominic." Sihol, who was present, along with his lead actress, explained post-screening that his film came about because of a new program in French schools that hopes to provide early identification of children who might grow into delinquents. In showing a single mother, her son, a school psychologist and various events that could be interpreted in differing ways, the 20-minute movie offers a disturbing look at the possibilities inherent in a program such as this. The writer/director doesn't push us but simply observes smartly and lets us make up our own mind. We are not able to (which is, I think, the filmmaker's point), and so neither should be the schools. Sihol works in a near-documentary/cinema verité style, drawing excellent performances from all, easily bringing viewers into his story and leaving us adrift in the middle of things, wondering what we should think and how we should feel about all this. Several different films could easily be made from what we see here. It's a good bet we'll be hearing and seeing more about and from M. Sihol.

DVDebut: SYNECDOCHE, NEW YORK Kaufman's challenge pays off bigtime

How often do you confront a film that offers a view of life, death, character, identity, love, loss and real estate, then slowly takes you into a surreal realm that, oddly, has even more to do with the life you lead? A movie that challenges you to think and grow-- then rewards your effort with such consistency, intelligence and feeling that you emerge from the experience blessed in a manner that most movies never approach. Consider this a rave review.

I am in awe of Charlie Kaufman (above), who, as a writer, has now outdone everything he's given us previously -- which was very good indeed: Being John Malkovich, Human Nature, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind, Adaptation and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind).

His latest film, SYNECDOCHE, NEW YORK, just out on DVD, for which Kaufman acted as both writer and director, suggests that he may be by far the best interpreter of his own work. His conception seems to me so original, and its follow-through so correct, that Synecdoche (pronounce it with the same lilt and accentuation as you would the city of Schenectady: sin-NECK-duh-chee) becomes one of those rare films in which, even when you may not always follow it intellectually, you'll still manage to stay on-track psychologically and emotionally.

The movie that most comes to my mind in connection with Synecdoche, is the Swedish film Songs from the Second Floor by Roy Andersson. The latter is a masterpiece, I think; made in 2000, it seems even more prescient now than when it was first released. The two films have little in common plot-wise: Andersson's is a collection of events united by enormous humanity (the filmmaker's for our own); Kaufman's, in its odd way, has a quite linear plot, although his world keeps opening and widening. Both films are united by their enormous imagination and the grace they bestow on their characters and the viewer.

If you have any acquaintance with the ways of legitimate theater and/or performance art, (actors, scripts, venues, role playing and the like), you'll more quickly follow along Kaufman's antic road. As the film progresses, characters not only change but double- and triple-up, and identity becomes comically, amazingly malleable. The notion of the director-as-god rears its head but finally this, too, is engulfed in a vision of life and art that leaves us with but a single idea. This is never spoken, mind you, but it comes through more strongly than any other: We are all one.

How you will define the house-on-fire is another matter. It's here that the movie takes a first major leap into the surreal, with a marvelous image/idea that may be loopy-Wagnerian or simply a metaphor for how any first home-buyer might feel in committing to that long-term "mortgage"?
One of the hallmarks of a successful collaboration is how well actors disappear into their roles. Among the all-star cast assembled here (all-star in terms of independent film) are Philip Seymour Hoffman (above, right, as the character whose story this is), Catherine Keener (above, left), Tom Noonan, Samantha Morton, Michelle Williams, Emily Watson, Hope Davis, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Dianne Wiest. (Ms Watson, below left, and Ms Morton, below right, manage a delightful duet on the same character.) I cannot help but wonder how Kaufman communicated to his enormous cast what it was he wanted from them all, and how, and when. Somehow they seem to have understood him -- or simply placed themselves, as actors do, in the hands of their writer/director and hoped for the best. That's what they got, and so, I believe, will you, once you've experienced this major jolt of creativity.


All photos are from the film, except for that of Mr. Kaufman, top, by Steve Granitz - © WireImage.com - Image courtesy WireImage.com

CARMEN & GEOFFREY by Linda and Nick

From what we're able to observe in Linda Atkinson's and Nick Doob's new documentary CARMEN AND GEOFFREY, neither Carmen de Lavallade nor Geoffrey Holder is a "great" artist, merely a very good one -- impressive, beautiful, talented and entertaining. The documentary isn't great, either, but because it lives up quite nicely to the standards set by its two subjects, the artistic "marriage" of dual filmmakers to their dual dancers proves a felicitous one. There's plenty of dance here, along with history, nostalgia and fun.


Much of this fun comes from seeing lengthy segments from the early work of these "legends," who began as dancers and have now branched out to choreography, directing, costume designing and even painting. (Holder's work with a paintbrush is -- like the fellow himself -- a fine example of oversize, entertaining, popular art.) Seeing Holder (who's lately become something of the "stunt" voice) as a lithe young dancer is a revelation, while de Lavallade's exquisite combination of class, beauty and reticence has simply grown more impressive over the decades. Their "love story," which appears to have begun around "first sight," makes a nice handle on which to hang this short film (79 minutes, including credits).

Along the way, we meet Holder's Trinidadian brother Boscoe, the couple's son Leo, their friends and co-performers such as Alvin Ailey, Judith Jamison, Dudley Williams and Gus Solomons Jr., whom we hear and see performing in grainy but nonetheless wonderful old clips. Once Holder began experimenting with other art forms, he moved on to projects such as the original Broadway productions of The Wiz (for which Holder won the Tony Award, presented to him by Ray Bolger!) and Timbuktu. There's even a marvelous section in Paris, as the duo performs with Josephine Baker.

Paris figures later in the film, as well, as the couple (both are now 78) returns more recently to one of its favorite cities. Atkinson and Doob don't push for a lot of depth here, psychologically or culturally, though snippets emerge now and again. Dance critic Jennifer Dunning talks about the deep but platonic relationship between Ailey and de Lavallade, and how Holder must have felt about this. Regarding the twosome's being in the vanguard of black artists in America during a time when this was not easily accepted, Holder explains, with his usual combo of ego and wit, that whenever he entered a room in which he was not wanted, he always assumed there was something wrong with the people who were already there.

Not every documentary must be groundbreaking. Spending time with a couple of fine old performers and their crowd can be a tonic, as Carmen & Geoffrey -- the people and the movie -- make delightfully clear. The film, via First Run Features, opens this Friday at NYC's Quad Cinema.