René Féret's MOZART'S SISTER casts a sidelong glance at the "genius" but looks full-face at his sibling; Q&A with filmmaker

Watching a second time René Féret's unusually thoughtful and moving film about Nannerl, the young girl who was MOZART'S SISTER, I was reminded once again of its beauty and subtlety. And how it takes a story of its time, centuries past, and makes it resonate in our own. Féret's film is beautiful and highly accomplished in its own quite striking and original manner. As much as I loved Forman's Amadeus, this new work is equally important for its look at the lives of the women of that time.

The filmmaker, shown at left, captures not just the look and feel of the particular century (when a new bathroom fixture provoked the same sense of wonder as does the alien Paul on his earthling companions) but manages this in a manner that seems intellectually and emotionally on the mark. Féret's choice of incident and detail helps captures our mind and heart, and his insistence on making us understand how the world worked in those long-ago days is bracing and clearly relevant to our own time. Below is what I had to say about the film when it was shown last March during the FSLC's yearly Rendez-vous with French Cinema. My second viewing only strengthened my judgment and increased my pleasure....

So where have you been all our movie-going life, M. Féret? As Mozart's Sister is the gentleman's 15th film, he's clearly been here, doing his own thing and going his own way since -- according to the IMDB -- his first film in 1975, writing and directing (and often produ-cing, too). His new movie, already picked-up for U.S. distribution by Music Box Films, will probably start a small stampede toward his older work. Meanwhile see this one, which tells the tale of a very young composer (how young, we don't exactly know, because his dad lies about the kid's age to make him seem even more of a genius), as the Mozart family (above) -- left to right: mom, dad, Wolfie and sis -- travel Europe trying to make money and waves.

The movie posits that perhaps sister Nannerl (played by the director's daughter, Marie Féret, above, who makes a very good case for nepotism) possessed a certain genius, too -- though because she was female, few would ever see it nor would she be allowed to develop it. Excelling on the violin, she is not allowed to play because "this is not an instrument for a woman." The film is resolutely feminist but never blows its whistle too heavily. No need: All is built into the times (the mid-1700s).

As it travels, the family must take refuge in a convent where, it turns out, some lesser lights of the royal family (girls, doncha know) now reside, and Nannerl becomes fast friends with one of them (fetchingly played by another of the director's daughters, Lisa Féret, above left). This leads to the family's trip to Versailles, meeting royalty, playing for them and -- all that follows.

Féret develops the strands of his story quite well, enveloping us in the characters of the four family members (plus that sad, cloistered friend) and the complicated Dauphin (a splendid performance from Clovis Fouin, above), and in the politics and mores of the time. I can't vouch for you, but for me the film's climax and high point came well before its finish: when Nannerl leads the small orchestra and plays solo violin in her own composition. As the music rises and swells -- a brilliant job by Mare-Jeanne Séréro of composing original music that adheres to its period and to what we might expect from another Mozart -- it seems as though everything good is actually possible in this wretched world of ours, and that any of us might be capable of it.

Mozart's Sister, from Music Box Films and running two hours, open this Friday in New York City at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center and the Cinema Village, and in Santa Fe, NM; and in California in Encino, Pasadena, West L.A. and Santa Ana. Click here to see playdates, cities and theaters -- now and in the weeks and months to come.

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We met with René Féret (shown again, below) and his small entourage, in a suite at one of Manhattan's boutique hotels off Columbus Circle last March when his film made its New York debut.  He was an unusually warm and humorous fellow, as were those with him, including a translator, whom he needed mostly for the occasional idiom I tossed into the mix. In the following Q&A, TrustMovies appears in boldface and M.Féret in standard type.

We’re talking to René Féret (no, it is not like the animal, which is spelled with two “r”s), pronounced Fair-ray, with the accent on the second syllable. M. Féret: I liked you movie very much, but I can’t understand why I have not known of your work until now. 

(He laughs) . Ah, yes! I am, as a filmmaker, the most “known unknown”!

Indeed. Fifteen films are what I find on the IMDB. So then, could we say that this new film is rather like your "breakthrough"?

Breakthrough? (His translator translates the idiom for him He shakes his head.) Not really.

Not even in this country? Because we have not had other of your films released here. Or have we? I had not realized this, at least.

Well, two of my films have come here. But 30 years ago, when I had a film, La communion solennelle, which was in competition in Cannes in ’77 (Editor’s note: it was nominated for the Cannes Palme d’Or) and it was released here. Then 20 years ago, I make The Mystery of Alexina, the story of a hermaphrodite. Someone gave me the memoir, and from that I make the film.

Are these available on DVD?

Yes, yes!

Great -- Here in this USA?

No. But in France.

I would love to see them.

I will send you a copy.

With English subtitles?

Yes.

I would love that -- how wonderful!

I have had 13 films released in France. And now three of them here. And I have a web site, too: ReneFeret.com

Well: I LOVED Mozart’s Sister. It was like opening up all sorts of wonderful new things for me. I thought of Barry Lyndon a bit while watching it, for it had some of the same sense of truly taking you to a place you have not been. But taking you there truthfully. Giving you the emotional truth. And in the correct time frame. Which you don’t always get from costume drama. I particularly like the two stories: Nannerl’s, and the young royal girl with whom she becomes friends. And I loved the relationship with the Dauphin. That character, whenever he’s seen in films, is always a little crazy. (The group laughs) And he probably was crazy. That’s my own feeling about royalty: People who are pampered from birth are always crazy. How can they not be? But he was wonderfully crazy (they laugh again). But he was also kind and interested and generous and actually curious about things. But then toward the end, the craziness comes back out in his treatment of Nannerl – expecting that she would do anything he wanted because, after all, he was royalty.

Yes, yes!

And the actor who play this does such a fine job: Clovis Fouin. I Once knew a young boy named Fouin: Julian Fouin who came to stay with us for a time in New York City. I wondered if they might be related. But I guess Fouin is a common name?

Not really. It means “hay.”

Hay – as in what horses eat?

Yes!

That’s great. Your actors were all so well cast and so very good. And the feminism of the film comes out well, too -- without being overly pushy. It’s just done a la the time period. That wonderful scene in which she gets to play the violin and conduct the small orchestra: For me that was the real climax of the film. I don’t know whether you see that as the climax...?

With the orchestra? Yes.

That scene made me feel such joy. I haven’t felt that much joy in a film in a long time. The other wonderful thing was the music. And it was created originally for this film, right?

Yes. We decided not to take any of the music of Mozart. It is too known. So all the music is original. Except when she sings. And when she sings with the Dauphin. Because those had to be more "known" songs.

What set you off to make this film?

I was reading, for a time, all the letters than Mozart’s father actually wrote. For three years, he wrote all the time, especially letters to his landlord, so many letters everywhere, describing the money problems the family had. These letters filled the landlord in about so much that was going on in the family’s life. There I discovered Nannerl, and that she was a kind of prodigy.

So you did not invent that part. She was definitely part of the family’s history. Did Nanerele actually want to play the violin?

I don't know that. That was my invention. But in that time, the violin was forbidden to women.

I wonder why? (They shrug, and do so do I.) Did you see The Page Turner, perhaps? (They nod, yes.) From that film I can understand why the cello or double bass might have been forbidden to woman. (They laugh.) But not the violin. So these letters from Mozart’s father set you off?

Yes, and after that, I decided to make a fiction about the family but with real characters.

Did the Dauphin go on to become Louis XVI?

No: he was the father of Louis XVI and the son of Louis XV.

So he never became king?

No. He died too young.

Ah. You see: I don’t know my French history. But this is how I get it – from you and other filmmakers! (They laugh some more. This is an easy crew to entertain!) What did your film cost to make?

It was pretty cheap.

It didn’t look cheap.

Perhaps one million Euros…?

Wow. That would be... two million dollars?

Oh, no! The Euro is not worth that amount any longer.

Oh—it’s come down that much?

Yes.

What do you think is going to happen with the Euro? Will all the countries continue to keep using it? No matter what?

No state has really proposed going back to its individual currency. And it has already cost them all so much to change over....

To become part of the European Union, of course. Back to your film: I am so glad it is being released here. And by Music Box Films – which is really an up-and-coming company. They seem to grab so many good foreign films these days. And they have a good mix of commercial stuff like The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, and its series, along with movies with that are more artistic and challenging. Do you have anything planned for your next project?

Yes I have something. Do you know Madame Solario?

Madame Solario -- the title rings a bell but not the author.

It is Anonymous – written in around 1958. It was a big success in its time: a best-seller by a woman who has remained anonymous. It is set in around 1905 on Lake Como.

Oh, pre-WWI.

It is very ambiguous (or did he say "ambitious"? I’ve listened to my recording several times and am still not sure…), and takes place in a big hotel, it is very delicate and very interesting.

When you do you think this one will be finished – I mean shot and ready for release?

I will shoot it in the summer, and it will be ready by March of next year.

Wow. That seems quite quick. But this will be your 16th films, so you sort of know how long things will take..

Yes. I know the music.

The music…?

It is an expression, as, uh …

Oh, like we might say. “I know the routine.”

Yes, exactly!

(The PR person alerts us that time is up, so we shake hands and embrace.) Thank you so much M. Féret. I wish you very good success with Mozart’s Sister here in the US -- and for Madame Solario – internationally.

Justin Frimmer's BORN AND BRED looks at boxing and Hispanics, sports and kids

As it is with Blacks and basketball, so it seems with Hispanics and boxing -- a combination that many feel is the road out of marginalization and the ghetto. According to the new documentary BORN AND BRED, directed and co-edited by Justin Frimmer (a hard man to find a photo of), the eastern reaches of the Los Angeles area deliver more boxers than anywhere else in the USA. I am not at all certain that this is the kind of record we want to keep repeating, however, especially after seeing this new film. What Mr. Frimmer shows us seems to me alternately appalling and sad, but I am not certain -- and this may be a good thing -- just where he stands in regards to these children who, from a very young age, make boxing their be all and end all.

The children we see here seem to have, as one person in the film notes, no real childhood. On the other hand, there's no surety that they'd have had much of a childhood without it. Get 'em while they very young, one trainer counsels. "Seven, eight and nine is better than ten or twelve." At times the movie seems like a commercial for the sport, never more so than when a glammed-up white guy who clearly has some job promoting boxing goes on at length about its glories.  Toward the finale he's back to tell us that boxing is the single "most culturally resonant sport." Huh?

Along the way we get a little sidebar on immigration, and the many demonstrations against the new laws that would make it even more difficult for the USA's illegal immigrants. Because Hispanics are at the forefront of the film, immigration is a major concern, of course, but the film's handling of this is too cursory to offer much insight -- except the usual position of "It's really good for America." Well, yes, but perhaps only up to a point.

Back to the boxing and the kids. "We fight until we die," one of them tells us along the way, and although he's quite happy about this, we may not feel as delighted. The children we see and hear most about are the now famous twins Oscar and Javier Molina, whom we watch train and then fight, lose and then win. Now, in one of the more ironic roads down which this film travels, the two are literaly fighting from different homelands. Then there is little Victor (whom, I believe, is shown at right) whose birth parents were decidedly unfit. He is adopted by a pair who seem to care immensely about him. But genes may reign: While the kid is winning his fights, it's all great. One loss, however, and -- whew!

Regarding those boxing twins (above and below), while their dad is all for the ring and the fights, mom would like her boys to perhaps have a back-up career. She thinks school and good grades are important, too. And speaking of these children not having a childhood, even in high school, the twins are not allowed girlfriends. (And if they're getting a little on the side, we're certainly not privy to it.)

Frimmer either can't or won't probe too deeply into all of this, but he has given us enough of a look to raise a lot of questions. For all the lip-service about the wonderful discipline and training that boxing provides, take a look at the body language and the expression on the face of Javier Molina after he's won his important bout toward the end of the film. These speak volumes about Hispanic macho, male entitlement and the power of force and fist.  "Culturally resonant," indeed.

Clearly, I have mixed feelings about this movie, but it is definitely worth seeing and thinking about. Born and Bred will open, for a week's run, next Wednesday, August 17, in Kansas City (at the Screenland Armour), and on Friday, August 19, in  Los Angeles (Downtown Independent) and New York (Quad Cinema).

Fernando Barreda Luna's ATROCIOUS does the hand-held, scares-in-the-woods thing

It takes some kind of courage to call your film ATROCIOUS. (Was "Wretched" already taken? What about "Abysmal"? Well, maybe the producer was trying to cash in on the more recently successful Insidious?) TrustMovies, in any case, is not calling this tiny scare flick atrocious. For what it is -- a cheap-jack, Spanish rip-off of everything from Blair Bitch to Paranormal Quactivity -- the movie improves slightly on both of those oversold and tiresomely dismal predecessors. And at 73 minutes, it doesn't wear out its welcome (well, not by too much). Part of the ongoing AMC/Bloody Disgusting/The Collective "Night Terrors" series, the film will be opening nationwide this next Wednesday, August 17 (To find a theater near you, click here, and then click on the drop down menu next to the film's poster).

The first full-length film from writer/director Fernando Barreda Luna, shown at left, this hand-held creep-fest offers a number of surprisingly unsettling moments -- along with its plethora of settling ones: the camera tracking oodles of shrubbery, forest trails, and pathways full of twigs, branches and leaves. Just when you're ready to scream, "Get an f-ing story going, please!" something different and scary pulls you back in. Barreda tells the tale of a happy (well, we think they're happy) family vacationing in an old estate in the sticks: Dad (a bit distant and absentee), Mom (clearly problemed, played by Chus Pereiro, two photos below), older bro (a camera nut, shown below, played by Cristian Valencia), sis (an incipient "looker") little bro (a cutey-pie) and, of course, the darling family dog.

The filmmaker manages to make his beginning segments, if a tad too hand-held and jerky, at least fun and interesting, with the entire cast colluding to make it seem like they're a group that's really known each other for more than a minute. When the scares begin (very soon, since the film runs but little over one hour), we're primed to like the kids and don't want to see them hurt. Good luck.

There's some gore here (below), but it's nothing compared to most of what we see these days.  Things are as often suggested as stuffed in your face, and the movie builds a nice head of "creep" as it moves along. And as there's not that much dialog, the Spanish subtitles shouldn't prove too trying.

Also to its credit, Atrocious doesn't leave literally everything up in the air. In fact, it may err slightly in the other direction of the too-neat-and-too-fully-explained ending of the original Psycho. But at least Barreda does all this with fast cuts and only just enough explanation to properly fill in the blanks.

Performances are fine, as far as they are allowed to go; the setting, with its wonderful old house, is striking; and technical details are all on the cheap (but effective) side. To paraphrase old Robert Frost, "These woods are lovely, dark and deep, but someone here has promises to keep." And she ain't being very nice about it....

Beauty, horror, sadness -- life! -- in Tatiana Huezo's masterful doc THE TINIEST PLACE

The beauty is front and center for all to see -- in some of the most brilliant, colorful, gorgeously-framed photography I've witnessed in some time (it's by Ernesto Pardo); the horror and sadness comes through the film's narration, as denizens of once and future village of Cinquera -- decimated during the 12-year Civil War that swept El Salvador beginning in 1979 -- tell the tales of the fate of their relatives, friends and neighbors. Life, in all its expansive, rich and befuddling glory, is what you'll mostly likely feel by the end of this documentary from Mexican filmmaker Tatiana Huezo (shown below) and which is part of the First Feature Film Program of the Centro de Capacitación Cinematográfica of Mexico.

The irony of THE TINIEST PLACE  (El lugar mas pequeño), a generally quite un-ironic movie, comes via the disjunction of the visual and narration. We rarely see a person actually speaking to us. Instead s/he is engaged in some activity -- fishing, cooking, cleaning, building, making art -- and the words fly by as we watch the gorgeous countryside or verdant jungle. Initially I found this combination oddly jarring but eventually quite welcome, for if we got a consistent dose of the tales told here (which become increasingly dark) while staring into the sometimes tortured faces of the tellers, it might prove too much to bear. Either that -- or we'd feel the kind of unpleasant, in-your-face cliché that we too-often witness from filmmakers & TV reporters who evidently believe that rubbing our faces in the suffering of others will prove just the ticket.

Instead, Ms Huezo's more interesting combination makes us aware -- of the place, the people and the situation that existed during the 1980s, as El Salvador's Civil War literally wiped some small villages off the face of that country and even off its official maps. (If a city doesn't exist, then neither, it would seem, does its horrible history of politically-motivated murder.)  As gorgeous as is the photography here, just as fine is the narration provided by Cinquera's citizens. In language that, as translated, seems both plain and poetic, simple but lovely, we are told of what happened here and to whom and what it meant.

We hear a lesson about a priest and the placement of a chair. "When one frog sings, they all sings," a woman tells us and then does a damned good frog impression. A man who bemoans his inability to drink coffee explains what we get from books (there was, at the time of filming and probably now, no TV nor Internet in this village), and the fellow's reasoning seems as original as it is thought-provoking. Another describes his own quiet insanity: dreams of machetes followed by the uselessness of his life now. There is a wonderful subtlety to many of the stories -- of children used as wartime messengers, of the importance of having several names, and how and why these names can suddenly change. The tales sneak up on you, but few hit you with terrible force until we finally hear of the time toward the end of the village, as what left of the community tries to hide in a hard-to-reach cave. Then come the stories of death, after which, seeing the photos and names of the dead seems a fitting memorial.

After the war, one fellow explains, it was particularly difficult to deal with the feeling of "no trust." But Ms Huezo's movie ends with a quiet and genuine praise of life. An activity like a marching band suddenly gives off  a thrill of intense pleasure, and the birth of a calf seems both poignant and hopeful. One fellow, a fisherman, has the best line, one that all societies might take to heart: "An organized people, a people with memory, is more difficult to oppress."

The Tiniest Place will not open until one week from tomorrow, Friday, August 19, at the IFC Center here in New York City, and will also have a one-week run in Los Angeles at Laemmle's Sunset 5 theater, beginning September 2.  (We hope it will open elsewhere, eventually). It's yet another in this year's near-constant line-up of terrific new documentaries.

Opera on the big screen: Verdi's NABUCCO via satellite (and Emerging Pictures)

Live opera, in High-Definition, via satellite? Zowie! Well, sort of. The first act of Giuseppe Verdi's NABUCCO -- sat-cast from the one-of-a-kind Teatro Antico in Taormina, Sicily -- proved sterling: passionately conducted by Pier Giorgio Morandi, beautifully sung by its cast and chorus, well-enough acted (come on, it's opera!) and given a knock-out production that makes wonderful use of the open-space theater and some fabulous projections. It was all quite enough to pass muster for yours truly, an only-rare opera attendee, and who, in this case, is speaking only of the first act. Toward the end of that act, and thankfully brief, but much more present at the start of Act Two, something -- perhaps the gigantic downpour that was occurring just outside the theater and throughout much of  New York City -- was interfering with the reception, resulting in a message on screen that kept flashing us with the words "weak signal," and then little or no sound and a repeatedly pixelating picture. So TrustMovies beat a hasty retreat.

Chiara Taigi, left, plays/sings the naughty Abigaille, while

 Eufemia Tufano, right, essays the role of her good sis, Fenena 

That first act, however, proved enough to convince him of what a fine idea this hi-def, video opera really can be. To begin with, the Teatro Antico setting -- a wonderful amphitheater overlooking the coast of Taormina (remember Purple Noon?!), shown on poster, top, at night, and below in daylight, with the Ionian Sea and Mount Etna in the background -- is spectacular enough. Plus, there's the Verdi. Nabucco was the composer's third opera, and the one that most helped earn him his initial reputation. The Manhattan venue chosen for the occasion -- the Big Cinema on East 59th Street between 2nd and 3rd Avenues -- can't be beat: friendly, helpful staff; the most comfortable seats in town; good sight-lines; and well-regulated air-conditioning, cool but not freezing.

The $25 ticket price might sound steep. But consider what you're getting. (Also consider the cost of a seat at the city's only remaining major opera house, and I think you will be convinced.) If you have not yet tried this yearly series, coming to us via Emerging Pictures, you owe yourself a treat. Click here for a listing of future  Nabucco showings, plus the dates, times and cities in which you can attend. For those who missed seeing all four acts -- due to yesterday's weather -- there is an encore performance of the entire opera (without any transmission problem, since it will be shown in full HD quality off a server hard drive), on August 21st at 11 a.m., again at Big Cinema in New York City.)

Further, should one of these interruptions occur in any Emerging Pictures LIVE presentation, a full refund or a gratis ticket to the encore screening (or another opera) will be provided. To see a complete listing of the remaining "Live" and Encore performances in the 20111-12 Opera-in-Cinema season, click here. Or consult the listing below, which offers the latest information as per Emerging Pictures:

OPERA in CINEMA 2011-2012

Faust, Charles-Francois Gounod LIVE FROM THE Royal Opera House, London, England LIVE: Wednesday September 28, 2pm EDT RECOMMENDED RECORDED SCREENING DATE: Sunday October 2, 2011 RECOMMENDED ENCORE DATE: Tuesday October 11, 2011 STARRING Vittorio Grigolo, René Pape, Angela Gheorghiu and Dimitri Hvorostovsky ESTIMATED RUNNING TIME: 255 minutes including one intermission

Adriana Lecouvreur, Francesco Cilea CAPTURED LIVE AT THE Royal Opera House RECOMMENDED RECORDED SCREENING DATE: Sunday October 23, 2011 RECOMMENDED ENCORE DATE: Tuesday November 1, 2011 STARRING Angela Gheorghiu, Jonas Kaufmann, Olga Borodina ESTIMATED RUNNING TIME: 151 minutes plus 2 intermissions

Tosca, Giacomo Puccini CAPTURED LIVE AT THE Royal Opera House RECOMMENDED RECORDED SCREENING DATE: Sunday November 13, 2011 RECOMMENDED ENCORE DATE: Tuesday November 15, 2011 STARRING: Angela Gheorghiu, Jonas Kaufmann, Bryn Terfel and Lukas Jakobski ESTIMATED RUNNING TIME: 194 minutes including two intermissions

Don Giovanni, W.A. Mozart LIVE FROM Opening Night at Teatro alla Scala LIVE: Wednesday December 7, 2011, 12noon EST RECOMMENDED RECORDED SCREENING DATE: Sunday December 11, 2011 RECOMMENDED ENCORE DATE: Tuesday December 13, 2011 STARRING Anna Netrebko and Bryn Terfel CONDUCTED BY Daniel Barenboim ESTIMATED RUNNING TIME: 195 minutes including intermissions

Cendrillon, Jules Massenet CAPTURED LIVE AT THE Royal Opera House RECOMMENDED RECORDED SCREENING DATE: Sunday January 22, 2012 RECOMMENDED ENCORE DATE: Tuesday January 24, 2012 STARRING: Joyce DiDonato, Alice Coote and Eglise Guttiérez ESTIMATED RUNNING TIME: 170 minutes including one intermission

Il Trittico, Giacomo Puccini CAPTURED LIVE AT THE Royal Opera House RECOMMENDED RECORDED SCREENING DATE: Sunday February 12, 2012 RECOMMENDED ENCORE DATE: Tuesday February 21, 2012 STARRING: Lucio Gallo, Eva-Maria Westbroek, Anja Harteros, Anna Larsson, Elena Zilio ESTIMATED RUNNING TIME: 225 minutes including two intermissions

La Bohème, Giacomo Puccini LIVE FROM THE Gran Teatre del Liceu LIVE: Tuesday March 13, 2012, 3pm EDT RECOMMENDED RECORDED SCREENING DATE: Sunday March 25, 2012 RECOMMENDED ENCORE DATE: Tuesday March 27, 2012 STARRING Ramón Vargas and Fiorenza Cedolins ESTIMATED RUNNING TIME: 170 minutes including intermissions

Rigoletto, Giuseppe Verdi LIVE FROM THE Royal Opera House, London, England LIVE: Tuesday April 17, 2012, Time TBA RECOMMENDED RECORDED SCREENING DATE: Sunday April 22, 2012 RECOMMENDED ENCORE DATE: Tuesday April 24, 2012 STARRING Dimitri Plantanias, Ekaterina Siurina, Vittorio Grigolo, Christine Rice ESTIMATED RUNNING TIME: 129 minutes with intermissions

Spotlight Titles Available Now

La Traviata, Giuseppe Verdi CAPTURED LIVE AT THE Royal Opera House, London STARRING Renée Fleming, Joseph Calleja and Thomas Hampson RUNNING TIME: 136 minutes, plus 2 intermissions

Rigoletto from Mantua, Giuseppe Verdi CAPTURED LIVE On location in Mantua, Italy STARRING Plácido Domingo, Vittorio Grigolo, Julia Novikova and Ruggero Raimondi RUNNING TIME: 153 minutes, plus 1 intermission

The Magic Flute,W.A. Mozart CAPTURED LIVE AT Teatro alla Scala, Milan, Italy DIRECTED BY William Kentridge RUNNING TIME: 164 minutes plus one intermission

Manon, Jules Massenet CAPTURED LIVE AT THE Gran Teatre del Liceu, Barcelona, Spain STARRING Natalie Dessay, Rolando Villazón and Samuel Ramey RUNNING TIME: 182 minutes with one intermission

Aida, Giuseppe Verdi CAPTURED LIVE AT THE Teatro del Maggio Musicale Fiorentino STARRING Roberto Tagliavini, Luciana D’Intino, Hui He and Marco Berti RUNNING TIME: 165 minutes plus 1 intermission

Carmen, Georges Bizet CAPTURED LIVE AT Teatro alla Scala STARRING Jonas Kaufmann, Erwin Schrott and Anita Rachvelishvili RUNNING TIME: 172 minutes plus 1 intermission

Macbeth, Giuseppe Verdi CAPTURED LIVE AT THE Royal Opera House STARRING Simon Keenlyside RUNNING TIME: 161 minutes plus one intermission

Art about art that's also a form of performance art: Sophie Fiennes' odd OVER YOUR CITIES GRASS WILL GROW

Better come right out and tell your readers, TM: If you find yourself sitting in the dark, watching the new documentary, OVER YOUR CITIES GRASS WILL GROW and growing very antsy, do not get up and leave. Stick it out for around 20 minutes and your rewards -- if you appreciate art, film, artists and filmmakers -- will accrue. Up until that time, however, your patience may wear thin. Mine certainly did. The film begins with a title card that tells us that, in 1993 German artist Anselm Kiefer left his native land for La Ribaute, a derelict silk factory near Barjac in Southern France. From 2000, he began a series of elaborate constructions there -- everything from sculpture to tunnels, bridges, amphitheater, lake, towers and buildings (47 of 'em). Immediately, one wonders, why?

You will be able to answer that question (and a number of others you may not have even asked) by the time the film ends, some hour and 45 minutes later. But initially, with no dialog, explanation or further title cards, the film's director Sophie Fiennes, at left, simply takes her camera into what we can only presume must be this strange area where the artist has built his constructions. We wend our way down passages, into and out of rooms, hallways and strange spaces, with an amazing array of shapes and textures on display. Not much color, though -- mostly off-white to gray with a little blue and maybe some browns thrown in. "Well, this must be art," you think to yourself, and the experience of moving with the camera into these spaces may remind you of that of Werner Herzog's current Cave of Forgotten Dreams, but without the nitwit narration and with some 30,000 years spanning the work of the artists on display. (Fiennes' film also provides much better camerawork and visuals -- which is not a fair comparison, of course, as Herzog was somewhat stymied by all the rules and regulations of the Chauvet Cave, together with his decision to use 3D cameras).

For the first twelve minutes, the only motion, other than the constant forward movement of the camera, is suddenly provided by shards of falling glass -- a mirror, maybe? -- that descends onto a pile of what looks like more of the same. Fiennes' manner here is to have us simply stumble upon the place and then take an unguided tour, so that we must make of it what we will. She doesn't even translate Into English the various captions on the art. You will probably be able to figure out Les femmes de la révolution, the name of the series that presents what looks like a group of dark, combination beds/bathtubs representing women such as Charlotte Corday, but others, not so easily.

You'll have noticed that somewhere along the line, early on as I recall, music -- much of it by György Ligeti -- kicks in, making our tour a little more dramatic. At fifteen minutes or so, the music stops and ambient sound appears. Just about the time our patience is thinning noticeably, we see someworkmen, and perhaps the artist himself. Snippets of dialog between them occur as they work, and the movie suddenly becomes a kind of performance art about art. Look -- there's a cat! And children! Whose are they? We don't learn the answers to these questions, but around 45 minutes in, the artist begins to explain his work to a visitor -- perhaps a journalist -- and, boy do things pick up considerably.

From Kiefer's thoughts (the artist is shown gazing at a nearly finished piece, above) on evolution and where this fits into his art ("We are essentially water, we come from the sea.  This is the warm sea, to which we want to return, that takes us back to a single cell being in the ocean...") and how his art is filtered through his own psychology ("I fundamentally believe that through my work I can fill an empty room created in my childhoood -- a room which was devoid of things from the outside, as we had no internet nor television.") Then there's some philosophy, such as this, on the important of boredom: "You don't experience yourself when you are not bored, and thus begins consciousness of one's own existence. How incomplete I am and know nothing. We all are. But I can't reach the core, the law that keeps the world together."

I apologize if I am misquoting to some extent -- trying to scribble fast as I watched and listened -- but from this talk comes enormous understanding of what Kiefer's art means and why he engages in it. There is real, thoughtful philosophizing going on here, and, circle-like, art leads to it and comes from it. We could easily be that questioner/journalist, and Kiefer is both brave and kind in trying to answer our probably rather typical questions. (The artist's job, after all, is to create not explain.)

At around 55 minutes, we experience another ten minutes or so of following the camera and just looking, once again -- with music, and then more workmen, and another project, this one to do with liquifying some kind of metal into the ground (below), followed by a burst of flame (the movie's big "special effect"), cement filling up a large hole and...  are those giant, sculpted teeth? Yes.

Another project (or maybe it's part of the same one) offers ugliness, pain and jagged glass, with a child's slicker and glass protruding from its pockets.  During this section, we learn that Kiefer is swapping his Barjac headquarters for a studio in Paris. (The film should certainly make you want to visit Barjac in person!) Then we're on to the final project, below, inspired by The Bible, the artist explains, and by Lilith, who lived in ruins.

This series of towers, above, is certainly the film's most impressive creation (to my mind, at least), and the movie ends with more slow camera movement over and around the art as the music -- discordant yet somehow beautiful -- swells.

Over Your Cities Grass Will Grow offers the creation of art -- sculpture, architecture -- before our eyes, along with our understanding of how that art arrives. One does not experience something like this film at all often, which is reason enough for folk of a certain mindset to seek it out. (That's the artist, with Fiennes, above.) The documentary opens, via Alive Mind Cinema and Kino Lorber, this Wednesday for a two-week run at Film Forum in New York City. (You can find the FF screening times here.)  To learn where else Fiennes' film will be playing -- with cities, dates and theaters -- click here.

Rupert Wyatt's "Rise" has risen -- and those "Ape" movies will never be the same

Destined, I believe, to become one of the great movie heroes of all time -- and ironically so, since we ought to be rooting for the humans (more of this below) -- Caesar, the chimp from the new RISE OF THE PLANET OF THE APES (shown below and above), is an amazing creation. This is thanks to the work of actor Andy Serkis and the motion-capture of the special effects people. (As a true movie buff, however, you owe it to yourself to see Mr Serkis in a film like The Cottage or the upcoming and generally dreadful Brighton Rock, in which he gives the juiciest performance, just to discover how good this guy can be without special effects.) And the movie itself? Not only does Rise put to shame the rest of of the obvious, obtuse films in the Planet of the Apes franchise, thanks to its immediacy, vibrancy and sheer, near-tactile force, it puts in the shade just about every other summer blockbuster of these past few years.

For those of us who felt that director Rupert Wyatt's last terrific film The Escapist was unduly neglected, this "Rise" is payback indeed, showing that he -- along with his writers Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver (who, together, were among the co-writers of the under-appreciated The Relic) -- is capable of handling mainstream and making it, dear god, so much better than what we are generally offered. (I doubt that the simple line "I am home" has ever seemed so poignant or meaningful.) Handling a variety of genres in a single film -- family film, sci-fi, fantasy, action thriller and animal movie -- after giving us a state-of-the-art prison-break film with The Escapist, Mr. Wyatt, shown at right, may only be beginning to display his array of smart movie-making skills. Just wait.

One thing is certainly clear. The guy loves working with men. In a men's prison movie, this is standard, of course, but his ape movie, too, has surprisingly few females on view -- in the office/business venue or even in the "family," which is made up of only men: son (James Franco, above, right, and at bottom, right), dad (John Lithgow) and then Caesar. Thankfully, the primary woman is played by the gorgeous Frieda Pinto, (above, left) who is given little more to do than look beautiful -- which she handles quite well, of course.

How Wyatt and his team move fluidly from the sci-fi and family story to the animal-in-jeopardy and then into the all-stops-out action finale is extremely well done. Yet when the pace quickens, even the gentler, emotional scenes are handled with more subtlety and tact than we expect. Consequently we're moved when we should be (wait'll you see what Caesar draws on his wall of his cage), and then excited beyond measure as action, emotion and rush-to-justice collide.

Audiences, most of them anyway, will be rooting for the apes against the humans -- which is a very odd position for a human being to find himself. But this movie may be timelier than we know. As America sinks deeper into its morass of greed, stupidity and the utter heedlessness of a people following directives so obviously set by those who have our worst interests at heart, the film should prove a fascinating wake-up call, delivered just a tad too late. Clearly, we are incapable of governing ourselves. Great: Let the apes give it a try.

Rise of the POTA is showing just about everywhere, but the movie's web site only allows Fandango to sell you tickets. So click on the link and see if your favorite theater is included.