Big Screen Little Screen

Story via Anne Thompson.  In separate statements, both Roger Ebert (still in recovery from multiple surgeries that have affected his voice) and Richard Roeper announced their plans to leave the nationally syndicated At the Movies With Ebert & Roeper after eight seasons.  Roeper’s last appearance will air the weekend of August 16-17.

“Over the last two seasons, as Roger has bravely coped with his medical issues, I’ve continued the show with a number of guest co-hosts,” Roeper said. “It’s never been the same without Roger, but I’m proud of the work we’ve done and I’m grateful to all the co-hosts who stepped in — and to the viewers that stayed loyal to the show.”

Excerpts from Richard Roeper statement:

“Over the last two seasons, as Roger has bravely coped with his medical issues, I’ve continued the show with a number of guest co-hosts. It’s never been the same without Roger, but I’m proud of the work we’ve done and I’m grateful to all the co-hosts who stepped in — and to the viewers that stayed loyal to the show.”

“Several months ago, Disney offered to extend my contract, which expires at the conclusion of the 2007-08 season. I opted to wait. Much transpired after that behind the scenes, but an agreement was never reached, and we are all moving on.”

Statement from Roger Ebert:

“After 33 years on the air, 23 of them with Disney, the studio has decided to take the program named ‘Siskel & Ebert’ and then ‘Ebert & Roeper’ in a new direction. I will no longer be associated with it.

The show was a wonderful experience. It was a great loss to me when surgery in July 2006 made it impossible for me to appear on the air any longer. Although I remained active behind the scenes, I feel that Richard Roeper and several co-hosts, notably Michael Phillips and A.O. Scott, have excelled at carrying on the tradition Gene Siskel and I began in 1975 with ‘Sneak Previews’ on PBS.

Gene and I felt the formula was simplicity itself: Two film critics, sitting across the aisle from each other in a movie balcony, debating the new films of the week. We developed an entirely new concept for TV. Few shows have been on the air so long and remained so popular. We made television history, and established the trademarked catch-phrase ‘Two thumbs up.’

The trademark still belongs to me and Marlene Iglitzen, Gene’s widow, and the thumbs will return. We are discussing possibilities, and plan to continue the show’s tradition.”

Roeper said he intends to “proceed elsewhere … as the co-host of a movie review show that honors the standards established by Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert more than 30 years ago,” adding “I will be free to share the details on that program in the near future.”

MGM popped a sun-warped, back catalog oldie (1983) into the cassette deck and it spit the tape back in a refried, musical feature format. They also have a Fame remake in the hopper. (Hollywood Reporter)

It’s hard to avoid getting caught up in all the anticipation for The Dark Knight. The trailers, leaked clips and early reviews all seem to confirm that Ledger’s Joker is one of the most hallucinatory, satirical, and horrifying creations by an an actor in some time. Let’s hope the series continues strongly without him… and without Robin. Can’t get enough until the 18th? Certainly all the viral marketing will keep you busy. You can check out the fantastic new poster art, join the Joker’s gang, watch some behind the scenes footage, or read the latest EW coverage.

When she’s not working on collage art, Alexa Frangos is counting down the days until The Dark Knight’s release. For those not keeping track, it’s less than 11 days away.

I’ve learned my lesson about getting too excited by films after watching Mister Lonely in Cannes last year. My high hopes had never been dashed so severely. However, I’m finding it hard not to be excited about a script I’ve just read entitled Stretch. It is to be directed by Charles de Meaux who has produced most of Apichatpong Weerasethakul’s films. It will star Romain Duris, written by Douglas Coupland. The cinematographer is Chris Doyle. Music by Devendra Banhart. What can go wrong?!
It’s set in Macau, where Duris is a jockey (banned for drug-taking in his native France) his winning streak gets him noticed by the most notorious trainers and his desire for fame and money leads him dangerously embroiled in the gangster underworld.
I think I can fairly safely say that this film will look stunning. I’m extremely curious about how this mixture of ingredients will work, and just a little worried that it could all be too overpowering.

As there are no images available yet for Stretch here’s a picture of my current favourite filmic horses from Guy Maddin’s My Winnipeg, which is released in the UK today.

So Ted Zee already left on a jet plane, and a few of the YESORNODC crew are headed to the shore this weekend, all of which got me to thinking about movies of movement: the good, the bad, and the inscrutable. Too many films belong to the first category to even begin to exhaust the list here; every time you think of one (Easy Rider, easily), you remember another (Y tu mamá también!) and another (Midnight Run!) and another (Broken Flowers!). The bad’s a bit easier– avoid anything made in the past decade with the phrase “road trip” actually in the title, for starters. The inscrutable? We’ll leave those up to Vincent Gallo.

You can decide which of the aforementioned categories to add Jacques Tati’s Trafic (1971) to when Criterion releases it–along with plenty of extra goodness, natch– on July 15th. Monsieur Hulot’s live action swan song finds Tati’s alter ego bumbling his way from Paris to an auto show in Amsterdam; hijinks, as always, ensue. Heretofore, Trafic was only legally available across the Atlantic on PAL, but possibly with good reason… It’s more than a little sad to see Play Time’s protagonist holed up in a drab Parisian automotive factory at the outset of Trafic, all the pomp and circumstance of the previous film’s brilliant traffic circle-cum-carnival denouement reduced to a palette of pallid grays and greens.

Those left someone disenchanted by Trafic, however, need not fret. Sylvain Chomet– he of Les Triplettes de Belleville fame– will resurrect Hulot, albeit in animated form, in next year’s L’Illusionniste, from an unproduced script by Tati. This time around, struggling magician Hulot takes his act on the road from the Hebrides to– of all places– Edinburgh (Chomet’s Django Films is based in Auld Reekie). More info over at Scotland on Sunday.

Indulge Kyle further at YESORNODC.COM.

There is certainly a dearth of romantic movies involving the elderly; that is, if you don’t count being forced to watch incredulously as Jack Nicholson romances Helen Hunt. Elsa & Fred, opening today, is a refreshing change in that department. The romance between the off-kilter Elsa (veteran Argentinean actress China Zorrilla) and the staid, recently-widowed Alfredo (Manuel Alexandre) certainly has its share of clichés. And we’ve seen better films where scenes of reckless driving underscore an aging character’s zest for life. But China Zorilla’s performance is so engaging that it’s hard not to be moved when she completes her Bucket List and takes a dip in the Trevi Fountain à la Anita Eckberg. You can watch the trailer here.

Alexa Frangos is an artist and recovering lawyer who collages her daily inspirations from film and culture at Pop Elegantiarum.

Hello all, tis Marie here from Write on Film dropping off my blog post whilst Ted is off having fun in Japan.

This weekend I was off on a whirlwind trip to the Edinburgh Film Festival to run up and down the city’s hills in the rain for my distribution day job. It was a weekend of firts, it being my first time up at the festival, and also the festivals first year in its spanking new June slot.

Having time to squish 1 film into my 36hr mad dash, the more than general consensus was to catch new British horror Mum & Dad- and the accompanying rumours of Perry Benson ‘enjoying’ himself a bit too much with a lump of raw flesh left me disturbed but compelled.

Our damsel in distress Lena, is a young Polish girl working as an airport cleaner. After missing her last ride home from work she accompanies colleague Birdie back to her family house but soon finds herself held prisoner by Birdie’s torture happy family, headed up by the depraved Mum & Dad of the title.

Thankfully this is not another gentle British ‘comedy horror’ riding the coat tails of Shaun of the Dead, and is keen to go quite far out with the shock factor. I think the best way to describe the film is to imagine dropping The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, a few Mike Leigh Films and a couple of Martin Parr photos into a blender and inspeting the grusome, twee and very Britsh outcome.

Sadly after the first 30 minutes Mum and Dad has already packed its biggest punch. The following shocks, blood and severed limbs begin to randomly fall all over the place and it becomes hard to care for Lena’s plight, or feel any sense of tension. I would have loved the film to have been not so continually heavy handed and instead build on the fleeting sinister moments of ‘normal’ family life.

In all though it was good to see a British horror putting its own spin on the recent flurry of torture porn, and it does have a great concept albeit one that gets lost on its way.

It’s impossible to follow American independent film over the past 15 years or so and not have built up a healthy level of familiarity with Parker Posey, an actress who over the years - as a Party Girl, a Jackie O. poseur, an obsessed dog exhibitor - to her detriment, has been firmly pigeonholed as a bit of a sideshow. There’s often a metaphorical donning of the clown shoes and makeup when Parker is asked to turn in a performance. Very few simmering moments - it’s almost always “On”, rarely moody, even less frequently muted.

She’s nothing if not a prolific actress. Does she suffer from a lack of selectivity when it comes to roles? Or from having too many friends in the business to appease? Who was talking in her ear when there was an option to not skinny dip with Danny DeVito in a lagoon pool?

And then there’s Broken English, written and directed by first-timer Zoe Cassavetes. Parker headlines as Nora, a guest services director in a posh Manhattan hotel. She’s at the period where single friends become married friends. She’s stuck in the background, feeling the pressure to settle down - maybe not because it’s something she needs, but something that feels age appropriate. There’s a string of dead-end dates, one being a standout turn from Justin Theroux, who as a mohawked, self-absorbed movie star, does much of the heavy lifting to deliver the film’s funniest sequences . Though this has been tagged a romantic comedy, it should be noted there are darker moments here. There’s vulnerability and desperation that you’d not be inclined to expect from your star. Drea de Matteo chimes in advice as Nora’s closest married friend, as does Gena Rowlands (Cassavetes mother, just one half of her oft noted lineage) as Nora’s mother. Enter Julien (Melvil Poupaud), a sweet-talking Frenchman visiting the States for a short time, long enough to almost sweep the habitually skeptic Nora off her feet. Once he heads back to France, Nora comes to the conclusion that he has some of whatever it is that she’s been looking for, and the chase is on.

While critics have generally been handing out satisfactory marks for Zoe Cassavetes first directorial outing, there’s an overall sense of disappointment with what we’re faced with in the third act: with all of the previous thumbing of the nose towards romantic comedy conventions up to a point, we find ourselves on the streets of Paris on a man-hunt, with a handful of Lost in Translation trappings thrown in. Some tracks from Air or My Bloody Valentine would seem appropriate. Things get muddied. Old Hollywood compromises happen. Before Sunset cribbing happens.

The thing that Cassavetes get so right though, that so many Christopher Guest also-rans with Parker on their call sheets haven’t had the prerogative or balls to pull off in the past - was for once, to just roll Posey out un-caricatured. Though a well-off Manhattanite won’t pass for everywoman, her neuroses are relatively commonplace. There are few cheap or easy laughs. The comedy is eased, rather than crammed in. In fact, by design, you’ll feel more compellled to feel sorry for Nora than laugh at her. This is Posey in a lonesome role that you’d expect for entirely someone else.

A thirty-something single woman is a clichéd indie staple in itself, but this one in particular comes across with such earnestness, like an unhinging has taken place, like an actress has been allowed to cut the histrionics and piss-takes and bullshit, and just roll around in a role for a good long while, maybe for the first time. The crafting of Broken English is nothing to sneeze at, but - just for the surprise factor and very capable handling of the starring role alone - the film marks an above-par directorial debut for Cassavetes, and a career performance for Posey.

Available on DVD now. Broken English trailer.

Also recommended this week:
– Dexter, Season 1

– The Michael Haneke Collection

Much of what’s disclosed in Filmwad’s Top Ten Lies Blockbuster Video Tells Their Customers can be said of a host of other pay-your-way-though-college restaurant or retail chains. The “sorry, the restroom is broken” line was a particular favorite in a previous line of work years ago, in response to countless unspeakable acts - but there’s something in the language (excerpted below), written in such squinty-eyed contempt towards all that is milquetoast and whitewashed that you can just about taste the bile - that speaks to my inner curmudgeon.

“As mentioned earlier, Blockbuster employees, for the most part, know next to nothing about movies. As such, their recommendations will be at best useless and at worst harmful: whichever new release has the prettiest cover will likely be the one immediately recommended by the manager on duty.

On the other hand, the vast majority of those who frequent the shelves of Blockbuster Video are slobbering, slack-jawed idiots who harbor no true love for cinema, no desire to probe deep questions about life, and no ability to enjoy something that might require the slightest bit of effort.“

Anxiously awaiting dispatches from ticked-off ticket-takers and popcorn-peddlers to add to the mix.