MetroSpective

This month at Starz FilmCenter

FILM REVIEWS by Adam Goldstein goldstea@mscd.edu

Darwin's Nightmare Now Playing

A new animal is introduced into a thriving and diverse ecosystem. Within 30 years, the new species has eliminated all of its competition, transformed the area's industry and realigned its social structure.

As much as this scenario may seem like some apocalyptic science fiction plot, it serves as the background for Hubert Sauper's documentary, "Darwin's Nightmare." Shot on location with one hand-held camera, "Nightmare" furtively follows the fate of the Nile Perch in Central Africa's Lake Victoria region and its impact on the outlying communities.

There are no specific dates or names attached to the event that would prove momentous in the history of Lake Victoria and its surroundings. Sometime during the 1960s, a new breed of fish was introduced into a lake brimming with an array of species. Today, the Nile Perch is the only fish left in the waters and a hulking industry has grown around the fish's dominance. The Perch is Tanzania's staple import to Europe, and the fillets that are flown abroad fuel the economies of entire villages.

The "nightmare" of the title comes in the impact this monolithic economy has had on the local inhabitants. The Nile Perch eliminated all of its competition in the ultimate realization of Charles Darwin's "survival of the fittest" theory and, in the process, changed the entire landscape, animal and human alike. Jobs in the region are scarce and specialized towards the cash crop. Soviet pilots that run the Perch back and forth to Europe smuggle arms and ammunition that help drive cycles of violence and starvation. What's most tragic, even as the Perch industry booms under foreign owners and managers, the locals are starving. Forced to subsist off the parts of the fish deemed unworthy of foreign sale, local communities are caught in cycles of destitution and desperation. The settings in this film are commercial outposts in the globalized market, where natural commodities are farmed, packaged and exported.

On a continent where the effects of the slave trade and colonization are still doing damage, where regular revolutions are tearing societies apart and where AIDS runs rampant, the situation in the Lake Victoria region is even more tragic.

The genius of Sauper's footage is his subjectivity. The filmmaker's interview footage features a wide range of subjects that come together to tell a larger story. A local prostitute relates her life story. An Indian factory owner muses on the droughts and food shortages that are sure to come. A Soviet pilot laments the inhuman conditions in the region. Local children explain why their parents are absent and fight over meager portions of food. Some of these children haunt the alleys, huffing the fumes from the burned plastic fish wrappers so that they can sleep peacefully. All of them are caught in the circumstances; all of them play a role in the tragic cycle of industry and poverty. They are cogs on a wheel. On film, Sauper pays them all equal heed. By placing these portraits in a single, comprehensive setting, he creates a chilling and unnerving tableau of a region gripped by tragedy.

With its stark cinematography and straightforward narrative, "Nightmare" portrays the dire reality of the situation in the Lake Victoria region in an unflinching fashion. As a silent witness, Sauper records the pain and powerlessness of his subjects.

Sauper makes clear that this is no science fiction story and suggests that sympathy must outweigh profit, and that compassion must outweigh the survival of the fittest.

Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus

Opens October 7

For all the years that separate us from Ulysses S. Grant and Robert E. Lee, there is still a civil war raging in the United States.

As director Andrew Douglas demonstrates in his new film, "Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus," the conflict that continues in the 21st century is cultural rather than physical. In place of the North and South, for example, there are the red and blue states.

Douglas' film is an intimate view of the South, of its faiths and fears, its myths and music, its saints and sinners. It functions both as an in-depth view of the singularity of the American South and a cinematic measurement of the cultural divide that still marks the country.

In the film, alt-country singer Jim White serves as the audience's cultural and physical tour guide to anonymous Southern back roads, juke joints and revival churches. The camera follows White as he crisscrosses the South in a beaten 1970 Chevy Impala borrowed from a friend. As a traveling companion and silent partner, White buys a bulky wooden statue of Jesus and lashes it inside the trunk. Along the hidden roads and backwater routes, he spotlights the spiritual and social spots that help define the South.

The soundtrack to White's journey comes from an array of Southern musicians and styles, music that ranges from the hummed melody to the pluck banjo line. The music is a central motif of the film and, in many ways serves as its main star. Cat Power, Johnny Dowd, 16 Horsepower and a slew of other native artists contribute to White's travels. The constant presence of the music in this film is the strongest testament to its central theme: the South has a culture and atmosphere all its own.

From fiery church meetings to swanky honky-tonk bars, from casual stories told on a back road to weekly radio sermons that warn of hellfire and damnation, Douglas' film paints a diverse picture, indeed. Douglas' images and White's narration come together to portray a world where matters of the spirit are ensconced in every part of one's life. In this world where hell and heaven have no middle ground, the local music paints vivid pictures of eternal joy and suffering just as well as any sermon. For the uninitiated, this is indeed a stark and stirring vision.

Unfortunately, Douglas seems to inadvertently summon another Southern demon in excluding a vital portion of the community. For all the diversity he captures in his chosen interviews and music, the director fails to include any significant footage involving African-Americans. In all the churches, bars and truck stops White visits, there are never any African-American interview subjects. They never escape from the role of background characters or extras.

For all the film does to elucidate the South's hidden beauty and spirituality, this omission begs its own questions. There are moving and memorable parts of this film, and its very format boasts its own form of innovation in the documentary genre. The movie's music can be stirring, its stories poignant, but the very absence of an entire portion of the region's population unleashes its own ghastly connotations, and the film suffers for it.

Elevator to the Gallows

Opens October 14 for one week only

With its sinuous streets and Old World aesthetic, Paris is the perfect setting for a film-noir.

Louis Malle's 1957 film, "Elevator to the Gallows," takes advantage of the city's natural ambience to tell its tale of crime and punishment, of love and betrayal. Starring a young Jeanne Moreau and Maurice Ronet as a couple doomed by their own love, this film includes some of the best narrative elements of the genre.

Malle's film tells the tale of Julien Tavernier (Ronet), a decorated war veteran, and his lover (Moreau), a calculating charmer who is married to Tavernier's boss, Simon Carala. Determined to see their love thrive, the ill-fated lovers hatch a plot to do away with the one impediment to their happiness: Carala himself. As a veteran and a spy, Tavernier is uniquely qualified to take care of the problem. However, after committing the perfect crime, Tavernier finds himself stuck in an elevator. Meanwhile, a pair of rowdy teens steals his car on their way to their own amateur crime spree, throwing the ill-fated lovers' plans into complete disarray.

Malle adapted the plot from a "policier," or crime novel, that was popular at French newsstands at the time. Along with writer Alain Cavalier, Malle turned a mediocre crime story into a fresh take on the film noir genre. With their development of Jeanne Moreau's character, for example, the plot takes on a multi-layered aspect, adding undertones of love and devotion to the otherwise familiar themes. The basic drama of the story is simple: a capable criminal is foiled by something as simple as a faulty elevator and a pair of punk kids. With the presence of Moreau as an added narrative element, as the abandoned lover and also the cunning and beautiful accomplice, the film takes on a depth that goes far beyond the average crime-drama of the 50s.

It is no wonder, then, that this is one of the films that made Moreau a star in France. Her performance is understated but effective, minimal but passionate. In the scenes where she is wandering the streets of Paris, searching for Tavernier, her very body language conveys a dramatic expertise.

In addition to the well-crafted story and engaging performances, "Elevator" benefits from the innovation and foresight of its cinematography and soundtrack. Cinematographer Henri Decae uses a full range of tones and shades in the black and white film. Certain scenes of Paris at night display a stunning range of shadow and light, running the gamut from light to somber in the space of mere seconds. What's more, the soundtrack features the music of Miles Davis at his best. With jazz giant Kenny Clarke on drums, Davis' sultry and swooning trumpet lines are given an expert pulse. Both the imagery and music of the film further distinguish it as a rarity in the film-noir genre.

A fully restored "Elevator to the Gallows" will run for only a week at Starz FilmCenter. A new generation has the unique opportunity to rediscover this cinematic gem and to learn that sometimes, it's wiser to take the stairs.

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[an error occurred while processing this directive]	Volume 28, Issue 07, October 6, 2005 MetroSpective This month at Starz FilmCenter FILM REVIEWS by Adam Goldstein goldstea@mscd.edu Darwin's Nightmare Now Playing A new animal is introduced into a thriving and diverse ecosystem. Within 30 years, the new species has eliminated all of its competition, transformed the area's industry and realigned its social structure. As much as this scenario may seem like some apocalyptic science fiction plot, it serves as the background for Hubert Sauper's documentary, "Darwin's Nightmare." Shot on location with one hand-held camera, "Nightmare" furtively follows the fate of the Nile Perch in Central Africa's Lake Victoria region and its impact on the outlying communities. There are no specific dates or names attached to the event that would prove momentous in the history of Lake Victoria and its surroundings. Sometime during the 1960s, a new breed of fish was introduced into a lake brimming with an array of species. Today, the Nile Perch is the only fish left in the waters and a hulking industry has grown around the fish's dominance. The Perch is Tanzania's staple import to Europe, and the fillets that are flown abroad fuel the economies of entire villages. The "nightmare" of the title comes in the impact this monolithic economy has had on the local inhabitants. The Nile Perch eliminated all of its competition in the ultimate realization of Charles Darwin's "survival of the fittest" theory and, in the process, changed the entire landscape, animal and human alike. Jobs in the region are scarce and specialized towards the cash crop. Soviet pilots that run the Perch back and forth to Europe smuggle arms and ammunition that help drive cycles of violence and starvation. What's most tragic, even as the Perch industry booms under foreign owners and managers, the locals are starving. Forced to subsist off the parts of the fish deemed unworthy of foreign sale, local communities are caught in cycles of destitution and desperation. The settings in this film are commercial outposts in the globalized market, where natural commodities are farmed, packaged and exported. On a continent where the effects of the slave trade and colonization are still doing damage, where regular revolutions are tearing societies apart and where AIDS runs rampant, the situation in the Lake Victoria region is even more tragic. The genius of Sauper's footage is his subjectivity. The filmmaker's interview footage features a wide range of subjects that come together to tell a larger story. A local prostitute relates her life story. An Indian factory owner muses on the droughts and food shortages that are sure to come. A Soviet pilot laments the inhuman conditions in the region. Local children explain why their parents are absent and fight over meager portions of food. Some of these children haunt the alleys, huffing the fumes from the burned plastic fish wrappers so that they can sleep peacefully. All of them are caught in the circumstances; all of them play a role in the tragic cycle of industry and poverty. They are cogs on a wheel. On film, Sauper pays them all equal heed. By placing these portraits in a single, comprehensive setting, he creates a chilling and unnerving tableau of a region gripped by tragedy. With its stark cinematography and straightforward narrative, "Nightmare" portrays the dire reality of the situation in the Lake Victoria region in an unflinching fashion. As a silent witness, Sauper records the pain and powerlessness of his subjects. Sauper makes clear that this is no science fiction story and suggests that sympathy must outweigh profit, and that compassion must outweigh the survival of the fittest. Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus Opens October 7 For all the years that separate us from Ulysses S. Grant and Robert E. Lee, there is still a civil war raging in the United States. As director Andrew Douglas demonstrates in his new film, "Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesus," the conflict that continues in the 21st century is cultural rather than physical. In place of the North and South, for example, there are the red and blue states. Douglas' film is an intimate view of the South, of its faiths and fears, its myths and music, its saints and sinners. It functions both as an in-depth view of the singularity of the American South and a cinematic measurement of the cultural divide that still marks the country. In the film, alt-country singer Jim White serves as the audience's cultural and physical tour guide to anonymous Southern back roads, juke joints and revival churches. The camera follows White as he crisscrosses the South in a beaten 1970 Chevy Impala borrowed from a friend. As a traveling companion and silent partner, White buys a bulky wooden statue of Jesus and lashes it inside the trunk. Along the hidden roads and backwater routes, he spotlights the spiritual and social spots that help define the South. The soundtrack to White's journey comes from an array of Southern musicians and styles, music that ranges from the hummed melody to the pluck banjo line. The music is a central motif of the film and, in many ways serves as its main star. Cat Power, Johnny Dowd, 16 Horsepower and a slew of other native artists contribute to White's travels. The constant presence of the music in this film is the strongest testament to its central theme: the South has a culture and atmosphere all its own. From fiery church meetings to swanky honky-tonk bars, from casual stories told on a back road to weekly radio sermons that warn of hellfire and damnation, Douglas' film paints a diverse picture, indeed. Douglas' images and White's narration come together to portray a world where matters of the spirit are ensconced in every part of one's life. In this world where hell and heaven have no middle ground, the local music paints vivid pictures of eternal joy and suffering just as well as any sermon. For the uninitiated, this is indeed a stark and stirring vision. Unfortunately, Douglas seems to inadvertently summon another Southern demon in excluding a vital portion of the community. For all the diversity he captures in his chosen interviews and music, the director fails to include any significant footage involving African-Americans. In all the churches, bars and truck stops White visits, there are never any African-American interview subjects. They never escape from the role of background characters or extras. For all the film does to elucidate the South's hidden beauty and spirituality, this omission begs its own questions. There are moving and memorable parts of this film, and its very format boasts its own form of innovation in the documentary genre. The movie's music can be stirring, its stories poignant, but the very absence of an entire portion of the region's population unleashes its own ghastly connotations, and the film suffers for it. Elevator to the Gallows Opens October 14 for one week only With its sinuous streets and Old World aesthetic, Paris is the perfect setting for a film-noir. Louis Malle's 1957 film, "Elevator to the Gallows," takes advantage of the city's natural ambience to tell its tale of crime and punishment, of love and betrayal. Starring a young Jeanne Moreau and Maurice Ronet as a couple doomed by their own love, this film includes some of the best narrative elements of the genre. Malle's film tells the tale of Julien Tavernier (Ronet), a decorated war veteran, and his lover (Moreau), a calculating charmer who is married to Tavernier's boss, Simon Carala. Determined to see their love thrive, the ill-fated lovers hatch a plot to do away with the one impediment to their happiness: Carala himself. As a veteran and a spy, Tavernier is uniquely qualified to take care of the problem. However, after committing the perfect crime, Tavernier finds himself stuck in an elevator. Meanwhile, a pair of rowdy teens steals his car on their way to their own amateur crime spree, throwing the ill-fated lovers' plans into complete disarray. Malle adapted the plot from a "policier," or crime novel, that was popular at French newsstands at the time. Along with writer Alain Cavalier, Malle turned a mediocre crime story into a fresh take on the film noir genre. With their development of Jeanne Moreau's character, for example, the plot takes on a multi-layered aspect, adding undertones of love and devotion to the otherwise familiar themes. The basic drama of the story is simple: a capable criminal is foiled by something as simple as a faulty elevator and a pair of punk kids. With the presence of Moreau as an added narrative element, as the abandoned lover and also the cunning and beautiful accomplice, the film takes on a depth that goes far beyond the average crime-drama of the 50s. It is no wonder, then, that this is one of the films that made Moreau a star in France. Her performance is understated but effective, minimal but passionate. In the scenes where she is wandering the streets of Paris, searching for Tavernier, her very body language conveys a dramatic expertise. In addition to the well-crafted story and engaging performances, "Elevator" benefits from the innovation and foresight of its cinematography and soundtrack. Cinematographer Henri Decae uses a full range of tones and shades in the black and white film. Certain scenes of Paris at night display a stunning range of shadow and light, running the gamut from light to somber in the space of mere seconds. What's more, the soundtrack features the music of Miles Davis at his best. With jazz giant Kenny Clarke on drums, Davis' sultry and swooning trumpet lines are given an expert pulse. Both the imagery and music of the film further distinguish it as a rarity in the film-noir genre. A fully restored "Elevator to the Gallows" will run for only a week at Starz FilmCenter. A new generation has the unique opportunity to rediscover this cinematic gem and to learn that sometimes, it's wiser to take the stairs.
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Volume 28, Issue 07, October 6, 2005