Richard Linklater's BOYHOOD--twelve years in the making--is something to see, feel and cherish

When I was a kid, I seem to recall certain movies being advertised with the tag line, Five years in the making! Something like that. The effect this was supposed to have on those of us who might purchase a ticket was to prepare us for a movie "event." Said film might have also had, in the parlance of the day, "a cast of thousands" or "spectacle like nothing you've ever seen." All of which is told you now in preparation for Richard Linklater's new movie, BOYHOOD, which was twelve years in the making, has nothing approaching a cast of thousands, and the only spectacle you'll see -- it's the one that counts, however -- is that of humanity unveiled in ways you won't quite have experienced till now. But, hey, moviegoers -- this is the real event.

On the basis of Bernie, his "Before" trilogy and now Boyhood, it seems clear to me that Mr. Linklater, shown at  left, is among and perhaps at the top of the small heap of great American filmmakers currently working. What he has done in his latest is to film the same group of actors, who make up a supposed "family," over the period of a dozen years, in which the young son of the group ages from something like six years old to 18. (Maybe it's 7 to 19, but you get the point.) We watch and marvel as this adorable kid named Mason (Ellar Coltrane, on poster, top) grows and ages, his features -- as well as his thought processes -- deepen and mature with experience until he becomes the young man, below, who is about to spread his wings and try. We've seen kids age in plenty of movies previously. But never like this. It's the same kid, at every age and in every moment, and the verisimilitude pulls you into his character in ways not experienced in film until now.

The same thing works with on us via Mason's parents -- played by Patricia Arquette (below) and Ethan Hawke (further below, center). They may already be adults when the film begins, yet they, too, change and grow remarkably and believably during the course of things. Mason's older sister, Samantha (played by Lorelei Linklater, the director's daughter, shown two photos down, at left, and at bottom, center), occupies a place somewhere between Mason and his parents. She's older and a bit more "formed" when we first meet her, yet still a kid, so her growth is perceived slightly differently throughout. This evolving family unit is a first for cinema, and though it may remind you of Michael Apted's "Up" series, because it's a narrative contained within a two-hour-and-46-minute running time, it works on us in quite a different way. (Don't be frightened by the film's length: There's not a boring scene to be found.)

The experience of watching these actors play the same character from year to year to year is a rich one, and the screenplay, also by Linklater, using some help from his very able actors, is equally rich, allowing us to observe the ways in which these people change -- and the ways in which they don't or can't. (Mom has the bad habit of choosing guys who initially appear "nice" but whose combination of drink and abuse is unhealthy. For all his problems, and despite the dissolution of the marriage, Hawke's dad turns out to have been her wisest choice.)

This unusual idea of returning through the years to the same characters and their story is indeed a good one and makes the film special. But were it not for Linklater's skills as writer and director, this might have come off as mainly a clever stunt. It never is. Scene after scene bursts with life that turns into art, enabling us to empathize with all the characters in this often extended family. Take the one that occurs over a meal with mom and kids and their step-dad and his kids. Fraught with anger and a rising sense of foreboding, this is as fine a scene of its kind as I've ever experienced.

The movie beautifully captures the sense of parents constantly trying to serve and protect their children, while struggling to do what's good and necessary for themselves, as well. If only they knew a little better what that might be! From a technical aspect, because the movie was filmed as it went along, there is never a question of continuity problems nor of getting the "look" correct. Clothes, cars, news and events -- it is all as it was.

Selection -- what, finally, to show us out of this vast life of Mason -- is vital, too, and I think Linklater has chosen exceedingly well which moments were the important ones to capture. We experience all kinds of moods and we're there for the events, large and small, along the way -- some quite verbal, others quiet and visually on the mark. Together they bring us a picture of a boy growing into young manhood unlike anything we've yet seen.

Boyhood, from IFC Films, opens this Friday,. July 11, in New York City (IFC Center, Lincoln Plaza Cinema), Brooklyn (BAM Rose Cinema) and Los Angeles (Arclight, Hollywood, and The Landmark). In the weeks to come it'll be expanding to theaters throughout the entire country. Click here to see currently scheduled playdates, cities and theaters

Note: Director Linklater & star Coltrane, will both appear 

in person at the IFC Center on Saturday, July 12, for Q&As 

following the 12:45, 1:45, 7:25 & 8:25 shows, 

with intros only at the 4:05 & 10:40 shows.  

(Earlier shows and appearances are evidently already sold out!)

Stars Arquette and Hawke will appear for a Q&A at the Hollywood Arclight 

on Saturday, July 12 at the 7:15 and 8:15 shows.

DVDebut: Cindy L. Abel's BREAKING THROUGH gives a positive and necessary jolt to GLBT docs

The new GLBT documentary BREAKING THROUGH begins with a litany of the awfulness of growing up gay or lesbian in the "old days" (these may still feel like current times for some of the younger set). But wait: There's a difference here. All the men and women we've just heard from are now elected government officials -- senators, congressperson, justice, judge, secretary of state, sheriff, district attorney and mayor, to name but some of their titles -- from all across the U.S.A. Already, the documentary, directed by Cindy L. Abel, is unusual and inspiring. So of course we want to know more.

Ms Abel, shown at right -- as director, producer and co-writer of the film -- gives us quite a bit more, as we learn the backgrounds and histories of many of these elected officials, along with their struggles growing up and their decision to come out, sometimes facing discrimination in school, at home, in the job market, at work, and during their run for office. And it is all topped off, finally, with their quite wonderful and compelling success. Each story is singular, one more interesting than the next.

One of our officials, Commissioner Joan Garner (above) has this choice morsel to tell. For a time in her life,  she explains, "I had wanted to become a minister. But our minister at church told me that I should instead aspire to be a minister's wife." Judge Phyllis Frye (below) is transgendered; if that isn't one hell of a leap (for the electorate as much as for Ms Frye), I don't know what else might be. Hearing about what Frye went through prior to her current status is both alarming and salutary.

One of the figures we learn most about is Atlanta City Council member Alex Wan (below), who possesses the double whammy of being both Asian and gay. We see him grow and age and win elections and partner with his companion, all with the love and approval of his family. Also of great inspiration is the story of the rise and rise of Latina sheriff of Dallas County, Lupe Valdez.

One of the most moving moments in the documentary comes when Georgia State Representative Karla Drenner tells of the apology she received, unasked for and thus all the more surprising and heartfelt, from one of her constituents. Two of the most famous of this crew, elected to the highest office so far, are U.S. Senators Barney Frank (shown at bottom, right) and Tammy Baldwin (below). While Frank's story is already well-known, it's good to hear more about Baldwin and her rise.

Over all it's good to hear just about everything in this inspiring documentary -- including the work done by Fort Worth City Councilman Joel Burns on behalf of endangered GLBT teens. I just wish that Ms Abel had been able to quit while she was ahead. Her documentary is finally just a little too long and repetitive and, toward the end, overly preachy (the end credits song, in particular). The message has come through loud and clear already and does not need quite the repetition given it here.

Very much worth seeing and rejoicing in, Breaking Through -- distributed by Breaking Glass Pictures and running only 67 minutes (in the theatrical cut; you might want to watch the 87-minute extended cut, which is also available on the disc) -- hit the streets last month on both VOD and DVD. It is hard to imagine a better documentary to celebrate June's Gay Pride Month.

For your July 4th weekend, Lutz Hachmeister's oddball THE REAL AMERICAN: JOE McCARTHY

The very title of this unusual -- in ways both good and bad -- documentary pulls us up short. What does THE REAL AMERICAN: JOE McCARTHY actually signify? That this guy could stand in for the "real" American, and if so, what the hell does that mean? That we're all a bunch of lying, cold-hearted opportunists willing to toss just about anyone (especially Democrats) in front of the bus? Well, maybe. That's pretty cynical. Well, yes, but since the film was directed, co-written and co-produced by a German fellow by the name of Lutz Hachmeister, who earlier gave us The Goebbels Experiment and the restaurant doc Three Stars, a more cynical look at America and Americans just might be in the cards.

Herr Hachmeister, pictured at right, has certainly done his homework concerning our Joe's history and actions, and has even gone a bit further behind of the scenes of our government and military at that time to bring to the fore some information buried more deeply than other films have shown us (including the documentary Point of Order, and a number of narrative movies in which old Joe played a supporting part). While his  "foreigner" status may have goosed Hachmeister to look at things differently, it may also have prevented him from seeing certain things as clearly as he might. Take Ann Coulter's place in all this, for instance. The director interviews Ms Coulter -- whom I consider one of the stupider mouthpieces of the frothing right-wing -- and then uses part of that interview in the film. But does he actually understand who Coulter is and what her place in American society might be? We've heard her on radio occasionally, spouting nonsense and lies -- such as her tirades about Obamacare last fall -- and we've waited for somebody to speak up and deflate the woman's shit balloon. But of course, on these right-wing radio fests, no one ever does. (For the best rendition yet of Ms Coulter, you really must see Thea Gill's interpretation of her in Joe Dante's sublime Iraq War sequence from the Masters of Horror series, entitled Homecoming.)

So here Coulter is yet again, above, spouting off about how "everything you've heard about McCarthy you have to hit the delete button on" (her quote is even used on the back of the DVD box), as though that is what we're about to discover from this documentary. But, hey, we discover no such thing. If anything, we learn even more about what an asshole McCarthy really was, how he consistently lied and pretended and led everyone from other elected officials to the public into thinking that our government was filled with Communist spies, in the process blithely destroying careers and lives along the way.

It is how our filmmaker shows us all this that gives me the most trouble. The Real American: Joe McCarthy is one of those documentaries that uses re-creations -- shown above (that's Joe as a young man) and below, with the would-be Roy Cohn at his side -- to bring to life its subject's story. And while these are well-acted enough, they stand out like the proverbial sore thumb -- in color, with all the 1950 trimmings of sets, clothes and so forth -- constantly calling attention to themselves in the worst way. Since Hachmeister's digging presents some fine archival footage and decent interviews with reporters, old friends of McCarthy, politicians and the like, why didn't he just stick with these rather than doing the "gussy-up" thing with the recreations?

If one is going to do this, do it cleverly and meaningfully like Sarah Polley manages in her excellent doc  Stories We Tell (streamable now on Netflix: click for the link). Shown against the real life footage of McCarthy, his wife Jean, the late Mr. Cohn and others, the actors (above) pale in comparison with their real-life counterparts (below) and don't really look much like them, either.

What the movie does give us, interestingly and well, is the story of how our own government, the CIA, and others were growing ever more annoyed and upset at what Joe was doing and saying, and so finally had to step in to stop it. All this is by far the most interesting of the "new" material the movie has to offer.

The McCarthy era is one that no truly patriotic American (and by that I mean the My country right or wrong: When right, to be kept right; when wrong, to be set right variety) would want to repeat. The Bush administra-tion tried to scare us into more of this with its stupid Iraq war and constant terrorism fears (ooooh: today is an orange alert!). It didn't work (not for long, anyway) and shouldn't ever be allowed to work again. We shall see.

Meanwhile, you can see The Real American: Joe McCarthy -- from Corinth Releasing and running 100 minutes -- on DVD by clicking here. It's worth a look and a thought about how this could happen then -- and what to do to make certain it doesn't happen again.

New from Hal Hartley --via FANDOR-- the highly theatrical, diverse & funny potluck MY AMERICA

Just about the perfect "watch" for Independence Day (on which day the film made its debut via FANDOR), MY AMERICA, the new work from Hal Hartley, is almost nothing like what you usually get from this man, one of America's premier independent filmmakers ever since his first full-length feature premiered in 1989 -- the same year, by the way, that Steven Soderbergh premiered his first full-length feature. While you could hardly find two more divergent career paths, for me it has long been Hartley who has kept the faith, so to speak -- even if some of his more recent films have failed to find much or nearly any audience. Still, Hartley (shown below) has maintained his "quirk," offering us many good films and one great one (Henry Fool), while Soderbergh bounces from independents to commercial blockbusters (or would-be) and back again with ease.

Hold on, though: If you're expecting anything like the usual Hartley endeavor, better set your expectations differently. My America is a compilation film with its roots in legitimate theater, made up of around 20 short monologues written by 20 different playwrights. These have been culled from the 50 monologues that were first presented at Maryland's Center Stage in 2012. From those 50, these 20, I guess, were chosen to grace Hartley's 78-minute finished film. Since the left-out playwrights include the likes of Anna Deavere Smith and Christopher Durang, one can only marvel or worry at the process of selection.

As good as many of these monologues are, My America also made me pine for Hartley's writing, nudging me to realize that, as a filmmaker, his work is even more dependent on his screenplay and dialog than on his visual sense. So, once you've set your mind to enjoying these varied and interesting, funny and not-so theater pieces, photographed in differing locations, some of which could easily be (and maybe were) the stage itself, you can relax into appreciating what these writers have to say about America today. And also appreciate the consummate skill with which most of the actors perform the playwrights' work.

The fact that these monologues are at least two years old hardly changes their worth or timeliness, since our country is in pretty much the same shape now as it was in 2012. As with any series of individual pieces, some are better than other. None take a nose dive, however, and several -- including Bekah Brunstetter's piece in which a Southern mom (two photos up) talks about food, death and the one percent; Dan Dietz's soldier's tale (above) of Afghanistan; and Kristen Greenidge's "Hit & Run" (below) -- are splendid little gems.

The performers are often quite wonderful, too, helping their monologue take off into the stratosphere. Kristine Nielsen, shown at bottom, plays a lady in pearls who tracks the decline of modern civilization back to a very odd and funny source, while Thomas Jay Ryan (below) essays a half-hidden fellow who tells us of fallen Presidents and asks if we are the cat, the mouse, or just "one of these assholes." Mr. Ryan is, as he often proves to be, funny perfection.

Themes covered here range from our current economic times to the "magic" of real estate, from our non-ending war(s) to our ever-present racism, prison, aging, Asians and more. There's even a Southern musical interlude, written by Polly Pen and performed by Jeb Brown (below), about little Jimmy spinning in a baseball field.

Think of the film as a welcome antidote to the latest confusion from Dinesh D'Souza and his America. The only piece here that D'Souza might cotton to is the first: Gyydion Suilebhan's monologue about a dad going all teary-eyed patriotic at a sports event.

All in all, My America is a rich feast of hors d'oeuvres, rather than dinner. Yet I suspect that it may seem even better and more nourishing a few hours after viewing. Which you can do now, thanks to Fandor.
Click here for specifics.  (If you live in the NYC area, you can also see the film at a one-time screening at the IFC Center, this coming Wednesday evening, July 7, at 7pm, hosted by Hal Hartley and Fandor's Ted Hope.)

Streaming choice: An estate full of ghosts, Maggie Smith, and some enjoyable time-travel fill Julian Fellowes' sweet film, FROM TIME TO TIME

It's cast with a bevy of some of Britain's finest actors, it's sweet and sentimental about everything from the past to parenting to death itself, and it's quiet and maybe a tad slow for anyone raised on Transformers and other so-called blockbusters. Yet FROM TIME TO TIME -- adapted (from a novel by Lucy M. Boston) and directed by Julian Fellowes (shown below, of Gosford Park and Downton Abbey) -- manages to hold our attention, while alternately charming, moving and befuddling us.

Basically a children's movie (ten years and up, I'm guessing) that adults can quite enjoy, Fellowes' film (first seen in 2009) is set in England during World War II, as young Tolly Oldknow (Alex Etel, below, right) -- whose soldier father is missing in action and whose mother is estranged from the family -- comes to stay for Christmas at the estate of his grandmother (Maggie Smith, below, left). This great home has clearly seen better days and is now peopled by a skeleton staff (Pauline Collins and Timothy Spall, the latter shown in the penultimate photo, below) but also by a bevy of ghosts from a century or two past. Young Tolly soon finds himself embroiled in not only the current financial problems of the estate but the much more pressing and dramatic doings of those ancestors who lived here all those deacdes ago.

At first it seems as though only Tolly can see these ghosts (only some of whom can see him), but eventually we learn that this "skill" is simply something that comes with the estate.

Approximately half of the starry cast is made up of actors who plays these progenitors (some of whom Mr. Fellowes has since made use of in further endeavors): Hugh Bonneville (above, center), as pater familias (soon to be used in that now-famous "Abbey"), and Douglas Booth as his spoiled, nasty son (who would go on to play Romeo in Fellowes' recent and better-than-you've-heard Shakespeare adaptation).

Also on hand are Carice van Houten (above, left) as the grasping wife and Dominic West (above, right) as a conniving butler. Everyone plays into his/her role nicely, and some (as Ms Van Houten's character) are even given interesting moral shadings of good and bad.

The main theme, however, is that of young Tolly's learning to come to terms with, well, death -- of those characters from the past whom he has grown to care for, as well as one important person from the present. How he does this proves the movie's greatest strength, and Fellowes handles it quite gracefully and movingly. If you are able to staunch that inevitable flood of tears, you're a better man than I am, Gunga Din.

From Time to Time, running 96 minutes, can be viewed now via Netflix streaming and elsewhere -- and is also available on DVD. 

Streaming "must" -- and a book review, too -- as Aureliano Amadei's award-laden 20 CIGARETTES gives us a new perspective on our own Iraq War

TrustMovies first covered the amazing film, 20 CIGARETTES, back in June of 2011, when it made its New York debut as part of the FSLC's Open Roads series of new Italian cinema. (You can read that post here.) I was blown away by it then, and seeing it again just recently, it seems even better. Perhaps because I had also, just prior to viewing the film, read the equally important and maybe just a little bit better book on which the film is based.

First published in Italy in 2005, the memoir, TWENTY CIGARETTES IN NASIRIYAH, written by Francesco Trento and Aureliano Amadei, and based on the experiences of Signore Amadei, who was invited by a filmmaker and mentor to come to Iraq and help make a film about the Italian contingent (part of George W. Bush's Coalition of the Willing) and its "peace-keeping" mission in the middle east.

The book is told in the first-person, making it a kind of you-are-there experience which grows more important, immediate and shocking as it moves along.

What happens to Aureliano takes him from happy-go-lucky, young artistic dabbler (played in the film by the talented and highly empathic actor Vinicio Marchioni, shown above and on poster, top, and below) to a severely wounded survivor of a suicide bomb who witnesses first the stupidity and hypocrisy of his own nation as it subserviently follows America into this costly and worthless war, and then the further hypocrisy of its politicians and journalists, and finally one particularly sleazy soldier who claims false credit for saving lives.

These events have turned our "hero" into something quite different from who he originally was, and the memoir turns us, too, in that direction. Compulsively readable in an excellent translation by Wendell Ricketts, Twenty Cigarettes in Nasiriyah is a relatively short read (164 pages) yet so chock full of telling detail -- something that simply could not be crammed into the 90-minute movie -- that you come out of the experience feeling remarkably close to Amadei in every way. His telling of his own tale is liberally filled with humor and especially sarcasm, where Amadei and his naivete are concerned.

The movie version moves from present to past and back again, over and over, as Amadei tells his story with much of that humor and sarcasm intact. He found actors to beautifully portray everyone from his parents (above) and girlfriend/caregiver to the soldiers he managed to bond with briefly before the horror occurs.

Then we get the long, difficult time of recovery -- first in the American hospital near where the incident occurred and then back home in Rome, where he and we must listen to those politicians and sort out the "contra-dictions" of the Italian military presence in Iraq and what this signifies.

For Americans watching this movie, the experience makes us more than ever the "outsiders," even as it puts us in touch with the Iraqi people in a different way. It also forces us look at the war itself differently, via the perspective of a citizen of another western country. We see the horror, the bloodshed, pain and suffering in a less political but more human manner. And then we see, as ever, how the politicians and military try to "spin" events to serve their own interests.

The title (of the film and memoir) comes from our hero's overweening need for a smoke (above), no matter what else is happening (how European!), while the crack cinematography (Vittorio Omodei Zorini) and editing (Alessio Doglione) combine to create a brilliant visual sweep of past and present, attack (below) and recovery, and especially the growth and change of Amadei himself.

The movie's finale is especially moving and unsettling (the book ends very differently, on an angry but thought-provoking note). The movie was made several years after the book's publication; even so, for Amadei -- while things had changed and moved on -- the event at the heart of the tale is still a raw and open wound.

I cannot recommend either the book or the movie highly enough. Both are better than anything else I have seen or read about America's misadventure in the Middle East. I believe they will remain as important a testament to our current times as anything you might peruse. Iraq, meanwhile, continues to fall apart from within and without, while America further declines into a non-democratic nation dedicated to the well-being of the entitled one-per-cent at the expense of the rest of us ninety-niners.

Twenty Cigarettes in Nasiriyah (the memoir, shown at right) is published by Four Cats Press (click and scroll down for information on where to purchase) and perhaps can be found in some of our public libraries (if there is any budget left for small but wise books like this one).

20 Cigarettes (the movie) can be streamed now via Netflix and maybe elsewhere, too. I don't think that any DVD is available for the American market yet, but those of you who own an all-region DVD player can order a copy from Amazon UK.

Now streaming: IN THE NAME OF -- Małgośka Szumowska's character study of a gay priest

Can you be simultaneously gay and a priest?  "Is the Pope Catholic?" as we used to ask. But wait a minute: This particular priest resides in a back-water town in Poland. Yes, Poland: the "tolerance" capital of the world. (I jest.) Even though we're in modern times, IN THE NAME OF, (W imie...) the unsettling and often creepy film by Małgośka Szumowska, looks, acts and feels like it could be set in many other European countries -- about thirty years ago.

That's how far removed from present-day mores this oft-fought-over and still pretty backward country appears to be. Ms Szuzmowska, who earlier gave us the pretty but ridiculous "woman's movie" titled Elles,  is to be congratulated for placing herself and her film firmly inside the closeted mind and body of this guilt-wracked fellow who is the main character of the film. Well-played by Andrzej Chira (below) to show an interior life fairly bursting with its attempt to surface, our guy Adam has already been moved from parish to parish, in order, it would seem, to divert attention from his too-interested-in-the-boys attitude. At this most recent Polish Podunk to which he has been assigned, he's at it once again, fending off the advances of a single mom while finding himself increasingly drawn to the elder son of the family.

While the film concentrates almost entirely upon Adam, above, there are various small sub-plots involving the other boys in the orphanage/ reformatory: One young man confesses that he has given another boy a blow job and so now needs to do penance. Then there's the case of the newcomer -- a hunky bottle-blond (below) -- who seems to have the ability to innately know what both Adam and that BJ boy need and want.

The movie moves rather slowly, but you will not question, I think, a single performance or scene in the film regarding believability. Everything and everyone registers as truthful and real. What will tip you most toward either a positive or negative position is how interested you are seeing yet another film about the struggle of a closeted gay.

The object of Adam's affection, Lukasz, proves also to be worthy of some interest. As played by Mateusz Kosciukiewicz (the director's husband, shown above and below), Lukasz is something of a sexy mystery himself, as indicated by a romp through the cornfields midway in the movie.

How all this finally plays out is perhaps the most interesting thing about the film. You will have your own "take" on what the ending means. Seems to me that Ms Szumowska is saying that, so far as Polish culture, history and the Catholic Church are concerned, it is probably best to join 'em rather than fight 'em -- and then just do whatever-the-fuck you want.

In the Name of -- in Polish with English subtitles, running 102 minutes, and distributed by Film Movement -- can be streamed now via Netflix and elsewhere (including the Film Movement site itself). The film is also available on DVD.