In her first scene in Olivier Assayas’ new film “Something in the Air,” Leslie, 17-year-old daugher of an American diplomat, is sitting on the grass with some other young people in a park in Italy. It is the early 1970’s. A man is playing the Phil Ochs song “Ballad of William Worthy” on a dobro guitar. Leslie introduces herself to a painter, Alain (Felix Armand). She then kisses him on the upper lip, takes his hand and leads him away. Impulsif! Leslie speaks to him in English and the sudden change of language, along with her striking beauty, heighten this remarkable introduction of a new character in Assayas’ marvelous portrait —a self-portrait in many ways— of activist student life a few years after the Spring ‘68 events that radicalized so many French youths.

It’s also a stunning entrance by the (now) 20-year-old New York actor and artist India Menuez. India’s credentials are almost a four-decade update of the flower child artist she plays in the film: graduate of an alternative high school in New York, member of the “Luck You” Chinatown-based art collective, frequently featured in style blogs and one of Papermag’s “Beautiful People of 2011.”

This summer India will play a rebellious teen in Brooklyn indie filmmaker Dustin Guy Defa’s latest feature, “Sweet Lover.” Defa (“Fever Dream”) says his team auditioned her and, “we fell in love with her. She is an intelligent and genuine actress.” “Something in the Air” opens in New York this Friday, May 3, at the IFC Center. Read my review of the film here.

Photo by David Swanson

Herbert Gambill: I see a lot of similarities between the students in this film and the preoccupations of students today—a renewed interest in political change, collective work, questioning values, a frustration over the delayed arrival of a better world that earlier generations seemed to think was on the horizon. I’m very curious to see what people who took part in Occupy Wall Street will make of this film—will they be heartened by it?

India Menuez: What I understand OWS to be doing is simply creating a broad call to general action. But that makes it seem a bit pointless—which I don’t think it is—because it is a choir of many different calls, which together become a kind of magical confusing song of hope. The issues are multifaceted and each of these facets are respected in their complexity with “never white wash” sticker stamp solutions attached, which becomes part of the confusion but then again gives the movement a sense of being real. I imagine a lot of it being like an elaborate tapestry, the picture we together compose of our world, this collective society, something along those lines—a collection of complicated knots. It’s complicated.

How would you compare the political consciousness of your peers now with the students in the film?

Then there was a belief in solidarity through political movement as to the way to fix what was wrong with the tapestry. They would burn it, or they would bury it or they would simply flip it upside-down—some desperate need to make it new. Somewhere in between then and now everything sped up and so this idea of collective youth identity kind of became more confused. “Too self-reflective”—in a sense—became “hyper-retro-obsessed,” which was then felt in many sects as a desire to slow down or take a step back to see “wait, what was that, I think I missed something?”

I don’t know that I understand the restrictions of my vantage point dedicated to the now! That’s the difference, now we are “now”, then we were “future.” Okay, I’m idealizing, but there it is: there still is idealism.

I don’t feel I can adequately speak on behalf of my generation without shuddering, thinking I have packaged and labeled the matter too easily.

Or is it equally lazy to call it “inter-contradicted” and perhaps it just sounds opinionless. In regard to politics I’m thinking of a lovely drunken interview with Francis Bacon where he tries to explain how he is “optimistic—optimistic about nothing.”

You mean the interview here, in this documentary?

Yes. And “nothing” is great! Ouroboros!

Ouroboros being the ancient symbol of a serpent eating its tail. The period costumes in the film are very good and I know you have a unique fashion sense and you’ve been involved in costume design yourself. What did you think about the clothes in the film and the ones your character, Leslie, wore?

I loved the man in charge of wardrobe; he was brilliant—Jürgen Doering. We had a lot of fun. In regards to feminine ideals of beauty common amongst the youth of that time I really appreciate the push towards naturalism and identify with a lot of those elements. Such as simply letting ones bodily hairs grow free.

Is acting your main interest now or just one of many?

Acting is just another medium through which exploration can be made; I enjoy the sense it can be used for just that. I think exploring is important. I am one of the co-founders of art collective Luck You. Perhaps most of all I am interested in creating an experience. And I also enjoy how vague that is, at least for now, as I feel young.

What did you think of the scene where Gilles burned Laure’s favorite drawing of his?

Yes, the part where Gilles burns the piece reminded me of someone I know. I delighted in that sincere melodrama. It struck something in Laure, no?

Students take to the streets in “Something In The Air”

Yes, it punctuated their relationship and visually foreshadowed her tragic end. In the film, periodicals, mimeographed leaflets, paper books are hugely important to the radicalized students. Now people have the internet and social media, but many people (like your collective) still make zines and handmade media. What is the attraction of this return to handmade artifacts?

The attraction to printed matter despite the ease of other technological options? It simply satisfies a different part of oneself incomparably.

Who are some of your favorite musicians right now?

Photo by Elisabet Davidsdottir

Listening to old bootleg recordings of my musician friend Heather Boo that I used to take to parties. That and “yeh-yeh” girl, go-go girl 50′s Americana girl band stuff. That but also some sweet folk that is different but in a strange way feels equally “girly.” So mostly girl stuff except I like to break it up and go see my friends Ratking play when I can.

Heather is also a member of your art collective and I see that Ratking was just chosen as one of the 15 break-out bands from last year’s CMJ. What’s next for you?

I did two indie features in LA last spring. I’m going to India to work on a film with director Maiko Endo, then in June I start filming for the next Dustin Defa feature. There are art shows and events in the Luck You vein along the way.

The team behind 2006’s entertaining and thought-provoking documentary The Pervert’s Guide to Cinema have followed up with a new essay doc investigating how films influence our collective beliefs and practices by helping to shape our dreams. The style of “The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology” is exactly like the earlier film: the colorful, heavily-accented Slovenian philosopher and psychoanalyst Slavoj Žižek uses scenes from films to illustrate intellectual arguments; these are punctuated by Slavoj continuing his narration in costumes and sets which pay homage to the films.

Clips from John Carpenter’s 1988 cult film “They Live” are used to explain Marxist philosopher Louis Althusser’s concept of ideological interpolation, in which our subjectivity is addressed (and partially created) by the social structures we inhabit. A drifter has discovered a pair of sunglasses that reveal the hidden instructions behind the surface of everyday life. An ordinary billboard advertisement turns into the text “OBEY” when viewed with the glasses!

In one of the documentary’s best sequences, Žižek demonstrates how Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” from his 9th Symphony has been used as a celebration of brotherhood in shockingly varied contexts: Nazi rallies, the European Union and the sociopath Alex in Kubrick’s “A Clockwork Orange” all use it for inspiration.

James Cameron’s blockbuster “Titanic” is deconstructed as an example of mainstream cinema’s “production of the couple.” By more or less giving the couple–usually a heterosexual one–the copyright to eternal, romantic love, you demonize any notions of a more communal living arrangement.

“Our dreams stage our desires and our desires are not objective facts,” Žižek says. “We created them, we sustained them, we are responsible for them.” Why, he asks, is it harder for many people to imagine life after capitalism than it is to imagine a scenario in which aliens from Mars invade the earth? Exactly. How many American films have been made about utopian (rather than dystopian) speculation about our social and economic futures? Indeed, it’s unlikely that people will demand change if they can’t even imagine it. And isn’t that one reason artists exist?

There’s a lot to take in here and the argumentation jumps around a bit; like the earlier film this is more of a sampling or showcase of concepts and not a finely outlined thesis. And at 136 minutes it may be more digestible on DVD or as a two-part TV series. It’s also not quite as entertaining as the first pervert’s guide (both directed by Sophie Fiennes) but this one may be more important, especially at this point in history.  (P.S. There is an Easter egg scene after the film’s end credits–don’t miss it!)

“The Pervert’s Guide to Ideology” will be shown Sunday, November 11 at 2pm at The School of Visual Arts Theater in Chelsea., as part of DOC NYC. 

“Sun Kissed” tells the story of Dorey and Yolanda Nez, a Navajo couple living on a reservation in New Mexico. Both of their children were born with Xeroderma Pigmentosum —or XP— a genetic disorder that makes exposure to sunlight fatal. The disease is so rare it only occurs one in a million in the general population. Their son passed away at age 11 and when the film begins Dorey is the full-time caretaker of his 16-year-old daughter Leanndra, who is paralyzed by the neurological degeneration that can also be caused by XP.

Because of Navajo taboos on discussing illness and disease, for years Dorey and Yolanda thought they were the only family on their reservation who had children with XP. Their elders gave them explanations from traditional medicine: because they married within their clan, or because Dorey killed red ants when he was a child. When Dorey’s wife, Yolanda, an advocate for Native Americans with disabilities, meets other Navajos whose children were stricken by the disease she decides to find out why it is so common within their tribe. She finds out that the rate of XP occurrence for members of the Navajo Reservation is much less than the general population, only one in 30,000. When she seeks out historians and scientists to explain why this is she learns that it is related to the the 1864 relocation of the Navajo by the U.S. military (also known as “The Long Walk”), a tragic event that even now many Navajos are hesitant to discuss.

Co-directors Maya Stark and Adi Lavy spent three years making this documentary, working hard to gain the trust of the Navajo community. In their director’s statement they say it was important for them “to create a visual style and pacing for the film that would reflect the Navajo way of life, particularly the role of nature as a constant character in dialogue with Native people’s lives.” And this they do, but not without suggesting the ironies of people living in cramped trailers amidst the beautiful desert landscape, some of whom have children who cannot enjoy the beautiful New Mexico skies.

When the inevitable happens, Dorey’s painful ruminations (“Why don’t we cry when a flower dies?”) make for a heartbreaking scene. Some —even some Navajo— may shake their heads at this powerful expose. What can you do about a tragedy whose causes can be traced back to ethnic cleansing that started 150 years ago? You can learn about it. You can advocate for the type of government that won’t let things like this happen again. You can push for increased reparations for American Indians. You can learn about the history and culture of American Indians and teach your children and friends about it. You can contribute money to XP research. And you can watch this important documentary.

“Sun Kissed” will have its broadcast premiere tonight, 10PM ET on the PBS serieis, POV.  Check your local listings for details.  For more information, check the POV website.

A scene about one-third of the way into French director Olivier Assayas’ wonderful new film “Something in the Air” brings up a question that was central to film criticism and theory during the time in which the film is set, the early 1970s. It also amounts to something of an embedded self-criticism by the filmmaker. There is a screening of agitprop films for a group of young French and Italian revolutionaries. During a Q&A session someone remarks that the film shown may have political content but its form is not political; it’s simply a conventional document of political struggle.

The filmmaker, in the film’s defense, is that he doesn’t make films for “aesthetes,” he makes them for workers. Assayas can’t make the same excuse, of course; it’s unlikely his new film —or his last, the terrific made-for-French-TV mini-series “Carlos”— will be shown at any factories soon. But the simple binary of political film/film made politically has subsequently been shown to be insufficient to evaluate the political agency —or effectiveness— of a film.

The original title of the film, “Apres Mai (After May)”, is more fitting. The film follows high school student Gilles (Clément Métayer) and his friends as they participate in revolutionary activities a few years after the General Strike of May 1968. Gilles is dating an alluring poet named Laure (Carole Combes). She leaves for England and he becomes involved with a fellow revolutionary Christine (Lola Créton). While spraying graffitti on their high school they and their friend Alain (Félix Armand) cause a serious injury on a security guard and must flee to Italy to avoid arrest.

There they work with a group of activist filmmakers. Alain falls for a beautiful red-haired American (India Salvor Menuez). Gilles eventually leaves Christine to return to art school in France and discovers that Laure has become a serious drug addict. His brief tragic reunion with her is perhaps the film’s most lyrical sequence. Gilles’ screenwriter father urges him to give up his political activity and work with him in the film industry, eventually leading to a hilariously gaudy stint at England’s Pinewood movie studios.

The film has the same expert evocation of the look, fashion and music of the early 70s that made “Carlos” so visually striking. The young cast are all dazzling and, except for Créton, are newcomers to film. 19-year-old India Salvor Menuez is especially memorable as a sexually-forward, fearless hippie girl. (Menuez is also a fashion stylist and a member of a New York-based art collective called “Luck You.” Look for my interview with her here soon.)

Though Assayas is hesitant to describe the film as autobiographical, it is somewhat based on a period in his life addressed in his short 2005 memoir “A Post-May Adolescence: Letter to Alice Debord” (recently translated into English). Assayas says it was his interest in Guy Debord’s work that helped him to move forward as a filmmaker. And speaking of Debord, are these post-May students any different than the students critiqued by the Situationists in their 1966 essay “On the Poverty of Student Life?” They complained that students should reject their special status as student radicals, observing that “Any new youth revolt is presented as merely the eternal revolt of youth that recurs with each generation, only to fade away ‘when young people become engaged in the serious business of production…’”

“Something in the Air” doesn’t get released in the U.S. until March and I’ll be very interested to see what people who took part in Occupy Wall Street think of it. What will American audiences make of a film about high school-aged students risking jail time by taking part in radical and sometimes violent political protests in a time when we’ve seen even passive resistance by college students and other adults met with pepper spray and batons? Imagine U.S. students wearing helmets and carrying bats to fight a line of police like students do in an early scene of this film?

• • •

If you are a history buff like me, Oliver Stone’s Untold History of the United States (a ten-part documentary series made for Showtime) will be one of the highlights of the fall television season. Stone and co-author Peter Kuznick, a history professor at American University, spent four years telling what Stone calls “…the side of history we didn’t learn in school. Upsetting to some, but profound for those who think for themselves, from the outset I’ve looked at this project as a legacy to my children and a way to understand the times I’ve lived though.”

Even those who are suspicious of Stone’s biases and tolerance for conspiracy theories have to admit, the man knows how to make history interesting. I only got to see the first episode and there were no obvious fallacies presented, but I’ll still be interested to hear what other historians say once the show is televised. Two interesting threads from the first episode (on World War II): it was really the Soviet, not the American army, that contributed most heavily to the defeat of the German army. And FDR’s vice-president Henry Wallace was a fascinating person, a favorite of labor unions and champion of desegregation and anti-imperialism who was shut out of the 1944 ticket for some very disturbing reasons.

This leads to some “what-if” speculation: “What if Henry Wallace had succeeded FDR after his death instead of Truman? Would the cold war have been avoided? Would the Vietnam War have never happened?” The facts, footage and narration (spoken by Stone himself) are thrown at us very quickly. You may, like me, want to get the companion volume and take notes. The series premieres on Showtime at 8:00pm on Monday, November 12.

• • •

In brief: Christian Petzold’s “Barbara” tells the story of a doctor in East Germany balancing her own desire to defect with her duty to her patients. It has a strong performance by Petzold regular Nina Hoss… “Hyde Park on the Hudson” has fine performances by Bill Murray as FDR, Olivia Williams as Eleanor Roosevelt and Laura Linney as FDR’s cousin/paramour, beautiful sets and photography, but the script is silly pop history… The most original film I saw at NYFF is also the most controversial–”Leviathan.” I’ll be writing about it later… One film I regret missing is Leos Carax’s love-it-or-hate-it “Holy Motors” but fortunately it opens this week at the Film Forum.

The opening night film for this year’s New York Film Festival presented the world premiere of “Life of Pi“, Ang Lee’s adaptation of the beloved 2001 novel by Canadian writer Yann Martell. Introducing the press screening, Lee joked that this project violated all three of the things directors are warned against working with–children, animals, water–add a fourth one, he shot it in 3D. He also noted that it was a challenge for him to make a film about faith. “Life of Pi” is about a boy (Pi, short for Piscine) from India, played by 19-year-old newcomer Suraj Sharma, who is so curious about religion he practices three of them. His father owns the animals in a zoo,  and in one harrowing scene Pi’s father teaches the young boy why he should not be sentimental about animals. Bad times force the family to sail to Canada, along with their animals (which they’ve sold to North American buyers.) A shipwreck puts Pi and a fierce Bengal tiger (named Richard Parker) into a lifeboat together.

The bulk of the film is taken up by Pi’s 200-plus days adrift, trying to keep himself and the tiger alive. The difficulty filming these scenes is what made the novel seem un-adaptable for years but Lee and crew have succeeded brilliantly. Never, for one second–for example–did I believe that the Richard Parker on screen wasn’t a real tiger. (The tiger, in fact, turns in one of the best performances you will see this year!) I’m no fan of 3D, especially since I wear glasses and two pair of lenses make it difficult to watch 3D; the 3D is as good as it gets here but I think the film would be just as visually awe-inspiring in 2D. The scenes of Pi’s inventiveness as he figures out how to keep the tiger at bay and gradually establish a mutual existence are captivating. Occasional fantasy sequences illustrating Pi’s longing for others are poetic and visually stunning.

Unfortunately the weak wraparound story of a grown-up Pi recounting his adventure to a writer and Yartell’s theme of how faith is tested threaten to turn the adventure narrative into some kind of new age morality play. There is also a post-rescue bit about Pi presenting two versions of his story to Japanese insurance investigators that is almost a thematic cousin to the ending of Ford’s “The Man Who Killed Liberty Valence”: “Having to choose between the truth and legend, print the legend.”

In the end, no matter what Martel or Lee wants us to feel most strongly about in this film, I suspect that for many viewers, like me, it will be the interaction between Pi and Richard Parker. Not what it represents allegorically, but just the story itself as depicted here. It has something to do with the relationship between humans and other species: fear turned into respect and caution; the necessary imposition of hierarchy and territoriality in certain situations; and the ultimate acceptance of the impossibility of ever totally bridging the gap between us and other animals. If the subject of Werner Herzog’s “Grizzly Man” had seen this movie, he might still be alive today.

• • •

Rodney Ascher’s “Room 237” is the most entertaining documentary about a movie I’ve ever seen. I don’t recommend watching it unless you’ve already seen Stanley Kubrick’s “The Shining,” and not just because it will spoil the ending for you. “Room 237” is about the wealth of sometimes fascinating, othertimes kooky interpretations of Kubrick’s horror masterpiece. Five non-professional film scholars narrate (you never see their faces) as Ascher serves up scenes from the 1980 film and other material to illustrate their various theories: it’s about–among other things–the genocide of the American Indians, the Holocaust and even Kubrick’s rumored secret work for NASA faking the Apollo 11 landing. (The doc also features a fun musical soundtrack.)

Some observations drew laughs from the screening I attended, as viewers acknowledged that, no, they did not see the similarity between a skier in a poster to a minotaur, or notice a subliminal frame of Kubrick inter-cut into a shot of the sky. Most fascinating, though, are the close readings of the treatment of space in the film’s main location, the Overlook Hotel (built on a British sound stage). One theorist has created detailed maps of the hotel, based on the viewer’s experience of the film, not production sketches, that suggest that “The Shining” is as much a space odyssey as “2001” was. We know Kubrick was a total production design wonk, so clues based on patterns in the rugs and odd continuity errors do resonate. Meanwhile, a projection of the film simultaneously in forward and backwards motion (presented at Brooklyn’s own Spectacle Theater) is inspired madness. I’m sure Kubrick would have loved this–he encouraged the interpretation industry his great films inspired. “The Shining” is a fascinating maze to be lost in and “Room 237” is a good companion for your time spent there. Opens in theaters next March.

• • •

I’m a long time fan of Democracy Now! so I’m glad to report that “Harvest of Empire“, an important new documentary based on co-anchor Juan Gonzalez’s book of the same name, is currently playing at New York’s Quad Cinema until October 11. It dispels many myths about immigrant latinos by documenting the American foreign and economic policies which helped to force increasing numbers of Mexicans and Central Americans to flee their native countries. Narrated by Gonzalez and others, many of whom were “illegals” who went on to become citizens and give very much back to the U.S. Highly recommended.

• • •

Next time: more on De Palma’s “Passion” (I didn’t make it to a second screening and just as well–a digital projector malfunction cancelled it! I’ll try again next week); also, Miguel Gomes’ “Tabu,” Olivier Assayas’ “Something in the Airv,” Lee Daniels’ “The Paperboy” and Cristian Mungiu’s “Beyond The Hills.” If you like “Room 237” you’ll want to seek out the BBC 4 documentary “Stanley Kubrick’s Boxes,” a fascinating behind-the-scenes look at the production materials he saved. It’s not on DVD or Netflix yet but it sometimes pops up on the Sundance Channel or youtube.

Over the next few weeks I’ll be blogging about the 50th New York Film Festival, based on press screenings and films seen during the actual festival (September 28-March 14). In addition to the 33 main slate films, this year’s festival features many interesting sidebars, including a rich selection of episodes from the French TV series “Cinéastes de notre temps.” There are also gala tributes to Nicole Kidman (accompanied by the premiere of her new film “The Paperboy”) and to Richard Pena, who is leaving after 25 years as the head of the festival.

• • •

Noah Baumbach’s exhilarating new film “Frances Ha“, co-written with and starring Greta Gerwig, is stylistically a love letter to the cinema of early Truffaut and Godard and even ‘70s Woody Allen. The story is ultimately about a deep friendship between two women (played by Gerwig and Mickey Sumner) in their late twenties —actually a rare subject for an American film— as Gerwig pointed out herself during the Q&A immediately following a recent press screening. Gerwig plays the titular character Frances (you don’t learn why it’s called “Frances Ha” until the end), a 27-year-old dancer in New York whose financially poor, but emotionally rich life is turned upside down when her best friend and roommate Sophie (Sumner) moves out of their apartment and in with her yuppie boyfriend. A search for work and cheaper lodging follows; she moves in with two hipster guys (one played by Adam Driver, best known as Lena Dunham’s inattentive lover in “Girls”), flies home for a Christmas trip to Sacramento (Gerwig’s real birthplace), takes a ruinously spontaneous two-day trip to Paris, and endures a stint as a dorm counselor at Barnard College.

The film is shot in gorgeous black and white by Sam Levy, and composed of shots edited so tightly you feel you’re getting a three-hour movie in its 86-minute running time. This limber, elliptical editing by Jennifer Lame punches you, making it hard to think or speculate about the film as you’re watching (the way we often do during quiet moments in a film)–you can only react. Despite the new wave influence on the film there are no “Breathless”-style jump cuts; instead shots begin and end abruptly, without padding; narrative threads dissolve. When, while working at Barnard College, Frances sees a young coed crying outside her room, she joins her and then Baumbach cuts to a future scene. No bonding conversation with the coed; the scenes just accrete, showing us the emotional texture of her life. Sequences are sometimes prefaced by titles indicating Frances’ new mailing address. Maybe the famous opening sequence of “Jules and Jim” influenced this whirlwind strategy but here it goes on for an entire film, and to glorious effect. (I don’t think I’ve ever seen a film I wanted so badly to re-watch after it ended.)

The dialogue is delivered very quickly–there are rarely pauses between lines. (And following the method Woody Allen is famous for, actors were only given script pages for the scenes they were in.)  The language is playful and biting, full of inside jokes, droll pop culture references (“I was in Paris when Serge Gainsbourg died”), coded speech and keywords. “Undatable!” Frances’ roommate Ben (Michael Zegen) declares every time he makes a wry observation about her boy-scaring idiosyncrasies. At dinner with a new roommate (Mimi Gummer) and her married friends, Frances flabbergasts them with her goofy, tangential longueurs. Another time she delivers a hilarious example (the first I’ve ever seen in a film) of the adolescent practice of making first name references to friends amongst people who obviously wouldn’t know to whom you are referring. Much of this we’ve already seen in any number of bad hipster tie-ins (and one good one, the HBO show “Girls”), and usually it is irksome and has no shelf-life, but here it is effervescent. And you don’t have time to roll your eyes even if you wanted to.

After acting in a series of micro-budget features, Gerwig had a breakthrough role in Baumbach’s brilliant previous film, “Greenberg.” This film ought to make her a star and an icon amongst college-aged viewers. In Whit Stillman’s delightful comedy “Damsels in Distress” this year she played a coed who tried to cure depression by (among other things) teaching tap dancing. Her character here is a dancer who is not quite good enough to stay in the company of her choice, but whose love of spontaneous, expressive movement transports the film, especially in one running sequence set to David Bowie’s song “Modern Love.” (Baumbach admits that he lifted this from the Leos Carax film “Mauvais Sang.”) Mickey Sumner (daughter of musician Sting, by the way) is also terrific as her bespectacled bosom buddy.

P.S. The Truffaut connection is evidenced also by the use of many selections from Georges Delerue soundtracks originally used in Truffaut films. The soundtrack also features songs by Dean Wareham and Britta Phillips, both of whom also have cameo roles in the film. IFC is distributing the feature but no release date has been set.

• • •

Brian De Palma, wearing his trademark khaki jacket, was also in the audience at the “Frances Ha” press screening. (Baumbach is a huge De Palma fan and will be interviewing him for an HBO Dialogue session at the festival on October 7.) Unfortunately, he didn’t make it to the press conference for his own new feature, “Passion”. Too bad, because lots of questions were in the air. So many that I’m going to wait until I see it again next week before I review it. It’s very entertaining, visually fascinating and something of a return to form (although I’m hesitant to use that phrase after seeing the funny explanation of it in Sophia Takal’s recent film “Green”).

• • •

How often do you see articles about avant-garde American films in mainstream publications? That’s why I recommend reading Akiva Gottlieb’s review of films from the last Whitney Biennial that’s in the 8 October issue of “The Nation.” And in the same issue, a review of a biography of American experimentalist Bruce Conner… The current issue of “Film Comment” (September/October 2012) includes an excellent history of the 50 year-old New York Film Festival… I was one of the people who saw Michael Cimino’s “Heaven’s Gate” in a theater in 1980 and shook my head in disbelief at how self-indulgent it was. But I’m willing to give it another chance when Criterion releases a remastered blu-ray of it this November. The new DCP version will also be shown at the New York Film festival on October 5… Don’t miss the BAM screening of Onur Tukel’s “Richard’s Wedding,” Monday, September 24.  Full disclosure: my brother, Randy Gambill, is in it!)… I saw two great micro-budget features that were part of last week’s La Di Da Film Festival in Tribeca: Amy Seimetz’s “Sun Don’t Shine” and Stephen Gurewitz’s “Marvin, Seth and Stanley.” I’ll write more about them at a later time. Also: More on De Palma’s “Passion,” Christian Petzold’s “Barbara,” “Room 237″ (the documentary on wild theories about Kubrick’s “The Shining”), and more.

“Herman’s House,” directed by Angad Ballah, tells the story of New York artist Jackie Summell’s unique artistic response to Herman’s fate. She began writing and phoning Wallace and asked him to imagine the type of house he would like to live in instead of the six-by-nine-foot cell he has been in since 1972. This communication was the basis of an art installation she built, which included a life-sized model of his prison cell, plans and models of the dream house he imagined, and a timeline of his life. (You can see more documentation of the show at her website.) “The best activism,” Jackie says, “is equal parts love and equal parts anger.” Her outrage is matched by her rich friendship with Herman and her devotion to his cause extended after the installation (which she put on twelve times in various countries); she moved to New Orleans and began working to realize Herman’s dream of a house built to help troubled children.

Herman appears in the film mainly via phone recordings with Jackie (sometimes interrupted by automated messages reminding the listener that the call “originates from Angola prison and maybe be monitored”). He is surprisingly thoughtful and upbeat for one who has spent four decades in conditions closer to physical and mental torture than imprisonment. He insists, for example, that Jackie interrupt her work on his project to attend to her cancer-stricken mother. A younger white ex-prison mate tells the story of how —during a brief hiatus in which Herman was returned to the prison dormitories-— he was taught compassion by Herman. How much of this compassion is the result of Herman’s Black Panther indoctrination, a fellowship he still values, instructing Jackie to put a drawing of a panther at the bottom of the pool next to his dream house?

The film is also about Jackie’s own history of living spaces, from the Long Island home she grew up in (“This was a violent house,” she says revisiting it after her mother’s death) to her New York apartment and then later in the home she relocates to in New Orleans. Herman’s sister Vickie shows Jackie the “shotgun shack” (since combined with an adjacent house) she and Herman grew up in. “Herman’s House” excels at making you think about the connection between space and socialization. How does space define destiny? Various prison architects evaluate the house plans of Herman’s house: it seems claustrophobic and doesn’t take advantage of either sunrise or sunset. This plan reflects the mindset of a man who has been imprisoned for a long time, one says.

Herman’s House will have its New York premiere Wednesday, September 19, 9PM at the opening night of the Harlem International Film Festival.  Filmmaker Angad Bhalla will be in attendance for a post-screening Q&A.  Tickets available with this link.

The next scene is a wide shot of the couple arriving at a house in the country. The location is never identified but with some observation one notes that all the cars have Pennsylvania plates. Takal employs these long exterior wide shots several times in a similar, mysterious fashion: we have to scan the frame–”where’s Waldo” style–for the origin of the voices we hear. The sound design by Weston Fonger is supple and rich. Nature and ambient sounds are combined with Ernesto Carcamo‘s spooky, almost sci-fi soundtrack (think of the soundscapes Giovanni Fusco created for Antonioni). Partnered with the lush, sylvan exteriors the film almost feels at times like a trippy, environmental installation.

The story, even for a short feature, is minimal. The couple have rented a country house for several months while Sebastian works on a blog about sustainable gardening. A young local woman, Robin (played by director Takal), latches on to them for company. The couple are sometimes annoyed and other times charmed by the unsophisticated Robin. She has a dog named “Hamburger” and asks silly questions like “Is he [Sebastian] growing his hair out for a reason?” in a rural accent that is not entirely convincing. Small matter that, because Takal and the other two actors give splendid performances. The three of them take walks in the forest and talk like overripe children. Often there is very little drama or cleverness to the conversation; this is dialogue as bird songs, not just mumblecore ramblings. Takal has created something very special here. The film’s title refers to the envy Genevieve  embodies as she eventually worries that Robin (note the bird name) and Sebastian may be falling for each other.  The title also refers to the greenness of the natural setting, but also signals the impressionistic intent of a film in which the total visual and sound field is often more compelling than any individual being or event captured within.

When confronted, Sebastian says that other women are just “fuzzy blurs” to him. And blurring is a key visual trope here. In one shot, a blurred-out Sebastian is typing away in the foreground as Genevieve sits reading in the background. As she approaches there is a rack focus that only slightly brings her boyfriend back into focus. Cutaways to nature shots frequently alternate the focus from one plane to another–blurring the leaves, then blurring the leaves behind them. When Genevieve fantasizes that her lover and Robin are having sex these sex scenes go in and out of focus in edenic, outdoor settings. Robin and Genevieve look a bit like each other and the doppelganger theme —alluded to in the film’s poster— is at play here too, but the shifting planes angle is more interesting. Space is important to the narrative of this film in a way few conventional films are.

At one point Robin asks Genevieve what she is reading to which she responds “Just a book by George Bataille.” It’s a class joke; as if Robin would know the French creator of such perverse surrealist works as “Story of the Eye”! But it’s an apt name-check, too. Takal, especially in the film’s controversial ending —one sure to polarize audiences— is employing the kind of provocations usually associated with writers like Roth, Bataille and Mailer. And Levine and Takal are a couple in real life; Levine directed “Gabi on the Roof in July” and also acted in Onur Tukel’s very funny “Richard’s Wedding.” Let’s hope we see more features from these extraordinarily ambitious two. To paraphrase Sebastian on Roth, “Even as a technician, Takal’s already kind of amazing.”

Opens Friday, September 7th at Rerun Theater in DUMBO and at Facets in Chicago.

Ostensibly a thriller, the story is very simple. On a busy Friday night at an Ohio fast food restaurant called ChickWich, middle-aged manager Sandra (Ann Dowd) receives a call from a police officer telling her that one of her employees, Becky (Dreama Walker) is suspected of theft. Sandra diligently follows the policeman’s instructions, taking Becky to the back, questioning her, subjecting her to a strip search, even asking her construction worker fiance Van (Bill Camp) to help as she juggles the demands of the front counter and the man on the phone. We know the caller (Pat Healy) is a sadistic prankster, trying to see how far he can push people beyond their ethical boundaries. It’s easy to think we’d catch on quickly if this happened to us, yet this is inspired by a real incident, one of 70 such pranks that happened over a decade. (For a fascinating document of them, see the Wikipedia page on the “strip search prank call scam.”)

Actor Ann Dowd & Filmmaker Craig Zobel; photo credit: Adam Schartoff © 2012.

When “Compliance” premiered at Sundance earlier this year, some viewers walked out, questioning the authenticity of such an incident or Zobel’s intentions. Since it’s based very closely on one of the actual prank calls, the question should be: does the film make it seem believable? I think it does, because the writing and acting is so good; Dowd and Walker are both terrific. And despite requiring Dreama Walker to be nude in some scenes, the film is not exploitative. It is, however, about exploitation. The fake policeman (Pat Healy) uses the type of confusing, button-pushing discourse real policemen sometimes use to get you to say and do things your lawyer would advise against.

Zobel and Director of Photography Adam Stone instill what is almost a one-set film with a sense of uncanny tension. In an early interrogation scene, the camera moves up and down, perfectly parallel to the scene in a manner that suggests the emotional nausea Becky must be suffering. A shot of Sandra taking Becky’s clothes to her car in the parking lot is filmed in a single long shot, accompanied by cellist Heather McIntosh’s haunting score. A later scene of a real detective driving to the restaurant is done the same way, this time to reinforce the fact that all along the police station was only a half-mile away. Only his second feature (2007’s “Great Wall of Sound” was the first), this is impressive filmmaking.

Listen to Filmwax Radio show with Craig Zobel & Ann Dowd on bboxradio.com.

The timing of this release couldn’t be more fortuitous: on the eve of an election in which candidates boast of being “pro-business” (that often being code language for wanting to nullify the historic gains of the American labor movement); in a time when our civil liberties are being eroded and surveillance of our daily lives grows in the name of “home security”; when income disparity and poverty are at such historic levels that workers are more fearful than ever to assert their legal rights. Corporations often require employees to sign what’s called a “compliance agreement.” They ought to also have them watch this film. (Opens Friday, August 17)

The old technique of deathbed flashbacks is enlivened here by a wealth of narrative devices (live action mixed with numerous styles of animation, theatrical re-enactments and multiple film stock simulations) as well as some Oscar-worthy art direction and sound editing. The setting will also be novel for most audiences: Tehran in 1958, a time when Iran was more westernized than it is now. “Chicken with Plums” is adapted from co-director Marjane Satrapi’s graphic novel of the same name.  She and her co-director, Vincent Paronnaud —also a graphic novelist— made the acclaimed 2008 animated version of her graphic novel “Persepolis.”

Shot in a Berlin studio, the film moves effortlessly from interior sets to exterior sets with backdrops to miniatures and even trompe l’oeil effects. Satrapi and Paronnaud’s superb visual skills as cartoonists transfer beautifully to the screen. In one dazzling sequence a snowflake travels thousands of feet in the sky, finally landing in the mouth of Nasser-Ali’s daughter. A humorous flash-forward detailing the tacky American future of his son is shot with a lurid reality TV palette. A scene in a courtyard where Nasser-Ali has tea with his future wife opens with a stunning crane shot traveling from the surrounding trees to the table below.

Nasser-Ali is played by versatile French actor Mathieu Amalric (“Munich”). Amalric displays a fine range here, from egocentric genius to lackadaisical parent to frightened mortal confronting the angel of death to socially awkward courtier of the one true love of his life, Irâne. A clock-maker’s ravishing daughter, she’s played by Golshifteh Farahani, a 29-year old Iranian actress who starred opposite Leonardo DiCaprio in “Body of Lies”.  [By way of a footnote,  she has since been banned from returning to Iran after posing nude for a French magazine.] Maria de Medeiros, whom you may remember as Bruce Willis’ girlfriend in “Pulp Fiction”, plays his wife Faringuisse.  Ms. Medieiros is equally convincing as the stern breadwinner and Nasser-Ali’s resentful unloved wife; her performance is the most affecting here. In smaller roles, Isabella Rossellini plays the mother who goads Nasser-Ali into his cheerless marriage and Chiara Mastroianni is the grown up version of his daughter.

Though “Chicken with Plums” succeeds visually as a fairy tale, it never quite registers in emotional or dramatic terms. Is it because Nasser-Ali’s story is finally that of a somewhat foolish, selfish man whose death causes more pain to his survivors than himself? Meanwhile, though Olivier Bernet‘s original soundtrack is very good, the music Nasser-Ali plays on the violin his teacher gives him as a reward for finally capturing “the sigh of life” (and also as a substitute for Irâne) is actually unremarkable. (Satrapi says the uncle who inspired the story played the tar, a traditional Iranian percussion instrument.) This is a cautionary tale, not a tragedy–the joys of life are as fleeting as the smoke from the Lazare cigarettes Nasser-Ali’s mother smokes in her own deathbed. (Opens August 17 in New York)