Social Distancing Journal: Week 5 (April 13-April 19, 2020)

Roger Ebert's Film Festival - Virginia Theatre - Champaign, Illinois
April 13, 2019 - Photo by Mark Pfeiffer

If these were typical times, I would have spent April 15-18, or some portion of it at least, in Champaign, Illinois for Roger Ebert’s Film Festival. I’ve been attending since 2001 and had been hoping to make it back for the full festival after having to miss part of the event three out of the last four years because I was taking graduate school classes. Work might have interfered this year, but I had a plan in mind to get me there for as much of the fest as possible.

Of course, requesting time off became a non-factor when the 2020 Ebertfest was canceled because all large gatherings were called off and we’re supposed to be staying home. As with a lot of things that would ordinarily be happening, initial news of the cancellation was felt more than the absence. For me this reaction is likely the product of being unusually busy. I clocked sixty hours of work from home this week. What time is there to dwell on what I’m missing if I barely have time to think about much of anything? Is that healthy? It probably is in that I have more purpose every day and probably isn’t in that I recognize I am working too much, even if plugging away for up to thirteen hours a day can be necessary to get the job done and is lucrative.

Bonneville Salt Flats - Tooele County, Utah - June 26, 2019
Photo by Mark Pfeiffer

A yearning to travel hasn’t emerged yet, but if staying at home, aside from essential trips to the grocery, becomes the smart choice for months, I imagine I’ll feel the allure of going somewhere else. Right now I’m especially glad that I made a 5,000-mile round trip drive from mid-June to early July last year that took me as far west as Boise, Idaho. I went on the journey because time was one thing I had in abundance, and I didn’t know when the opportunity to do something like it might be possible in the future. That’s also why I made a short trip to Annapolis, Maryland and northern Virginia about a month later and stopped for a night at Niagara Falls in Ontario before attending the Toronto International Film Festival. I didn’t know what employment I might have and how my time off might be limited, so I tried to take advantage of what was available. I think I needed to travel then and certainly don’t regret doing it, especially when I have no idea when this can be indulged next.

I have a hotel reservation for this fall’s TIFF, but if I’m being honest with myself, I have a hard time believing the film festival will be held. Even if it is, I doubt that attending would be a responsible decision regardless of how much I’d like to be there. I’m guessing that for most people one of the hard parts of social distancing is the growing imbalance between what makes sense and what we want. If we’re being rational, our internal scales are tilted toward knowing it is wise to reduce the risks for ourselves and others no matter how long it takes, yet as this goes on without a clear resolution, the desire for things to return to normal threatens to tip the scales. I’ve stayed focused on each day rather than thinking down the line, and I feel like doing this has kept me level. Will that be true if this situation endures through the summer and into the fall? I can’t say, but it works here and now.   

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Last night I realized that I’ve gone five weeks almost entirely free of in-person face-to-face interactions except for checking out at the grocery store. What a weird way to live. We recorded new episodes of the podcast this week via Webex. Previously we recorded Filmbound in a studio. I wasn’t sure how this would work remotely or if the technical qualities would be where I would like for them to be. Using the Webex recording for editing demonstrated that the tech is good enough but far from perfect as we probably sound at varying times like a vocoder effect has been applied to our voices. While editing I could tell that changing the medium of our discussion also altered how the discussion unfolded. Our dialogue overlapped less, something I was a thankful editor for, especially when I switched up to cutting this week’s episode from our separate phone recordings. (Episode 111 sounds much better than Episode 110.) Still, I think it does illustrate that while remote interactions are worthwhile, they are far from perfect replacements.

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Checkerboard Dishcloth - Photo by Mark Pfeiffer

Work on the podcast soaked up a good bit of my free time this week, but I managed to fit in some other activities. It’s been a long time since I knitted anything, but I was bound and determined to make something this week. A dishcloth was the ideal project, as it was something I could complete relatively quickly while relearning skills that have eroded from non-use. Years ago I took up knitting as a stress reducer. Making this useful item was a nice reminder of the relaxation that comes from engaging in the craft. I can say the same for spending time in the kitchen. Baking was also limited, but I whipped up some blueberry muffins so I would have something quick to pair with a smoothie for work day breakfasts. 

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Music-wise, I listened to a lot of the same stuff I’ve been spinning, so there isn’t really anything to say about that this week. Actually, there wasn’t much that I watched either, which strikes me as fairly strange when considering my viewing habits pre-social distancing. Going to a movie theater isn’t an option right now, but usually I went two to three times a week, with some of those trips including two or three movies. Since I’ve been staying at home, I’m watching a lot fewer films than I have in a long, long time. It’s mainly a time thing--I don’t have enough--but it still seems weird that in these circumstances that my viewing has reduced so dramatically.

In terms of films, the only one I saw this week was Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, which I watched for the podcast. (The episode is now available here and here, among other places.) My co-host had never seen it, much to my surprise, and I felt like the adventures of Harrison Ford’s archaeologist were sufficiently escapist to part ways with my intention to stick primarily to comedies. That’s not to say this movie lacks humor. In many regards it’s a looser, funnier film than a lot of today’s event movies. I don’t recall when I last saw this film, but I was stunned at how much of it came flooding back to me. It’s my least favorite of the Indiana Jones films of the 1980s, so I assume the over-the-top violence and gross-out humor in the form of disgusting delicacies and creepy crawlies made an impression when I saw this as a kid. Temple of Doom holds up better than I expected and than I think its reputation is, so it made for fun viewing in spite of the scenes of human sacrifice that helped spur the PG-13 rating’s creation.

In television, I watched the finale of Schitt’s Creek. Like a lot of people who found the sitcom, I caught up with early seasons on Netflix and watched the last two seasons as they aired after locating Pop in my cable channel guide. I’m still not sure that the show’s name was the best choice, as it suggests a cruder and broader show than this warm and generous comedy is, but ultimately it didn’t prove to be an impediment to success. It doesn’t hurt that Schitt’s Creek is highly meme-able and GIF-able, qualities that I feel have become critical for TV shows to catch on. I don’t really have anything of consequence to say about the series other than to give it a chance if you haven’t heard of it or if the name puts you off.

I’ve mentioned watching Survivor, and I just want to chime in about a part of this episode that producers must think is crucial and which I find very uninteresting. This week featured visits from the cast members’ loved ones, a segment that took up way more of the episode’s time than was necessary and had no visible influence on players’ strategies. I understand that taking part in this reality show/game show must take an emotional toll on people as trust is something inherently in flux, if not outright absent, while living with the other players. And yes, I suspect that reactions are amplified for the sake of cameras as much as the charged circumstances. Maybe it’s because right now so many of us are separated from people we would like to see--and for a longer time than this season’s Winners at War returning players have been away from their friends and families--that the segment hit such a wrong note. The situations are not comparable, obviously, but for a segment that has increasingly become a disposable one on the show, this one really was a clunker. 

Previous Social Distancing Journal Entries:
Pre-Social Distancing

Week 1 (March 16-22, 2020)

Week 2 (March 23-29, 2020)

Week 3 (March 30-April 5, 2020)

Week 4 (April 6-12, 2020)

Filmbound - Episode 17: I Feel Pretty

Although I FEEL PRETTY is too sluggishly paced and not funny enough to merit a positive review, I appreciate that co-writers/co-directors Abby Kohn and Marc Silverstein avoid one of the big pitfalls of romantic comedies, even if their film is more romantic-comedy-adjacent.  (It's primarily a self-empowerment film with a romantic comedy element.)

So many contemporary romantic comedies force relationships that I don't believe because the would-be lovers are constantly snipping at one another or contrive exaggerated conflicts to set up the inevitable climactic reconciliations.  In I FEEL PRETTY the relationship between a newly confident Renee (Amy Schumer) and Ethan (Rory Scovel) makes a lot of sense.  While the event that signals trouble for them as a couple is very much a movie mechanism--Renee's second head injury undoes the optimistic self-perception the first one gave her--it strikes a more familiar note in what can cause problems in real relationships: the internal hang-ups and self-questioning of one or both people.  It would be nice if more screenwriters see that this common, relatable quality can be as, if not more, effective than the idiot plot trope of a simple misunderstanding that regular people would easily reconcile.



In the recommendations segment I praise--and hopefully pull off a credible title pronunciation of--Jacques Rivette's LA BELLE NOISEUSE, which is now available in a fantastic 2-disk Blu-ray set.  (It's also out on DVD and can be streamed in HD.)  At times the film evokes Henri-Georges Clouzot's THE MYSTERY OF PICASSO (LE MYSTÈRE PICASSO).  The similarity is not in the technique but in access to the process involved as a work of art takes shape.  I realize that a nearly four-hour French film with significant stretches in which the camera observes an artist's strokes of charcoal or a brush as he tries to get his visions on the page or canvas is not the easiest sell, but the experience of watching it is quite absorbing.  Inspiration isn't a flash that produces something in an instant, and I was fascinated in watching Rivette try to capture what it is like to make the intangible tangible.

Why make one recommendation when I can make two?  I also give the proverbial thumbs up to Roger Ebert's Film Festival and provide an overview of the event's 20th year.  (If you want more in-depth coverage of Ebertfest, click here.)

Upcoming episodes:

-May 23: YOU WERE NEVER REALLY HERE and a discussion about who are the biggest new movie stars of the last twenty years and what defines a star in today's Hollywood
-May 30: AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR and our recommendations segment
-June 6: TULLY and a discussion about sequels, cinematic universes, and crossovers we'd like to see
-June 13: LIFE OF THE PARTY and our recommendations segment

2018 Roger Ebert's Film Festival: Day 2

If the first day of the 20th annual Roger Ebert's Film Festival inspired looking at the past, the second day pointed thoughts about the past and present toward the future.  Whether this emerging structure was intended or it's simply what stood out because of where my head is at currently, I like the balance of noticing what used to be and not allowing it to dictate how things should remain.  One can appreciate and respect the past without believing that today and tomorrow must be defined on yesterday's terms.  Don't misunderstand me, I'm not suggesting throwing out everything that has preceded.  That knowledge should be built upon, not permanently fixed.

The present in INTERSTELLAR looks bleak as blight is bringing the last harvests of specific crops, which will inevitably lead to the planet being incapable of growing food at some date.  Dust storms seem likely to bring about all sorts of respiratory issues for the population, especially in the youngest generation.  In Christopher Nolan's 2014 film, the world is no longer at war, perhaps the lone positive byproduct of the perilous environmental situation, but fear of what is ahead has made thinking regressive, something manifested in educators now teaching that space exploration was all a massive constructed lie to gain an edge in the Cold War.

Matthew McConaughey's Cooper understands the practical need to be a farmer, yet he's frustrated how society is essentially barricading itself in its home and embraced denial of reality instead of believing in and working toward a future that could be better.  He becomes involved with a secret outpost of NASA that seeks a new home for humankind in a different galaxy.  While participating means a tremendous personal sacrifice--if he ever returns, he will have missed decades with his children--the alternative is waiting for doomsday to come.  Cooper chooses the more hopeful option, even though it means making the tough choice to leave behind the son and daughter he loves dearly.

INTERSTELLAR is a film of staggering visual wonder that serves as a kind of amusement park ride through a wormhole and into a black hole, yet the father-daughter connection bridging space and time make the greatest impact. Although Nolan can be characterized as a cold, logical filmmaker, here he searches for the unquantifiable in love of family and awe at the universe. The mission into the stars becomes a journey into the heart.

Although the film is just four years old, in the current political atmosphere it plays much differently.  The retrograde developments and fatalistic thinking seem all the more plausible in this pessimistic time.  If only we can have faith that a small, renegade group is still striving to stave off the worst possible outcome for everyone, although the film mitigates the investment we should put into some secret resistance delivering salvation.  Some people may be more qualified to make things better, but in the end everyone needs to pitch in.  It all comes back to the idea that parents make preparations to assist their children even if the full realization of those actions don't arrive until after they are gone.  The past should set the table for the future, not marginalize it.

Ebertfest showed INTERSTELLAR in a 70mm print, which made this one of the potential high points of the festival for me.  I'd seen it in 70mm before but was underwhelmed by the visual result in a better source.  Splashed across the huge screen at the Virginia Theatre, I expected this presentation to deliver what I hoped to see that first time.  While this print was pristine, my experience was the same.  INTERSTELLAR in 70mm lacks the sharpness and clarity that I expect.  Some of the farm scenes, especially in the house, seem dark and lower in detail.  This is not the case with 70mm prints of DUNKIRK, so I'm not sure what the difference is.

Monica Castillo, Selena director Gregory Nava, and Claudia Puig

Gregory Nava's SELENA, a biopic about the Tejano singer Selena Quintanilla-Perez, is the only film to play here in the first two days that I hadn't already seen.  While the film's arc is more about the rise and tragic end of the pop star's life, one of the tensions extends from her father Abraham (Edward James Olmos) resisting the desire of his children, particularly Selena (Rebecca Lee Meza as a child, Jennifer Lopez as a teen and adult), to do things according to their tastes, not his.  As a frustrated former musician, Abraham has certain ideas of how things should be done based on when he was growing up.  While some of his objections, such as his dislike for Selena's more revealing fashions, emanates from a paternal impulse, many of them are rooted in believing that all the answers exist in the past.

SELENA gave a big boost to Lopez's career, and her strong technical performance makes it easy to understand why, although she's limited by a screenplay that doesn't give the character much of an interior life.  My primary criticism of the film is that the writing leaves a lot to be desired, whether it's the information dumps of dialogue or the progression of events that don't fully convey how much Selena's professional status is changing.  As biopics tend to do, SELENA features a greatest hits of anecdotes on her rise to fame, but these scenes feel strangely disconnected until someone unloads some clunky talk to fill in some of the gaps.

I appreciate, though, that Nava doesn't define Selena through her death.  When the film opened, for much of the American public their greatest awareness of her would have been about her murder.  I suspect most filmmakers would have opened SELENA with the tragedy and flashed back to tell the story, but doing so would implicitly say that being killed is why she should be of interest to people, not her talent or accomplishments.  Nava doesn't foreshadow the murder unless you recall who was responsible, which has the weird effect of Selena's fate hanging over the film like the sword of Damocles for those who know it or seeming like a shocking turn virtually out of nowhere for those who are unfamiliar with the outcome.

Nava also does a nice job of depicting the struggle in being Mexican-American, which complicates Selena's professional life by being perceived as not fully either nationality.  There can be a tendency to assume that those with hyphenated identities favor the part that is not American, yet here we see that doing so is often not fair.  Selena's native tongue is English, and she wants to sing in that language.  The system, however, pushes her toward where it thinks she best fits, which mirrors her father's experience of wanting to sing with a doo wop group but facing opposition by the majority culture and his own because of his heritage.

Rebecca Theodore-Vachon, Belle director Amma Asante, and Chaz Ebert

Heritage is also the prism through which Gugu Mbatha-Raw is viewed and treated as Dido Elizabeth Belle in Amma Asante's BELLE.  Based on a true story, Dido has a British father and a slave mother, and her father wishes to have his parents care for her according to the status he gives her while he is away in the Royal Navy.  Her great-uncle and great-aunt, Lord and Lady Mansfield (Tom Wilkinson and Emily Watson), raise Dido much the same way they do her cousin Elizabeth Murray (Sarah Gadon), yet there remain some customs that have her occupy in which her place is above the servants but below the rest of the family.

Dido's young adulthood coincides with an important case regarding the crew of a slave ship disposing of its human cargo and seeking recompense from the insurer.  Lord Mansfield is adjudicating it, and Dido's awareness of the matter shapes her understanding of who she is and how society observes her.

Asante excels at bringing out the economic, social, and political questions in a costume drama and tying their relevance to today.  Race is certainly an important component of what BELLE is examining, but the film also explores the worth and expectations of women in a culture that does not fully value them and actively seeks to bind them to a way of moving through society that limits their potential.  The phrase judicial activism gets lobbed as an accusation nowadays, yet is a strict adherence to the past beneficial?  Lord Mansfield's decision in the Zong case could be interpreted as activism--I suspect any verdict departing from the observer's opinion qualifies as such--even though it seems like the evolution of thought in applying the law.  Again, blanket denial of the past is not the goal, but making the future beholden to what preceded should not be either.

2018 Roger Ebert's Film Festival: Opening Night

The Fugitive director Andrew Davis introduces his film

Without going into details, it's been a trying year--and one that I anticipate will continue to test me, even if there's nothing life-threatening--so I arrived in Champaign, Illinois for the 20th annual Roger Ebert's Film Festival with the hope of taking a breather, if just for a few days.  Granted, simply by being here I'm potentially stressing myself out more as there's work to be done for final projects due in my MBA classes next week.  That's what mornings are for, or so I'm telling myself, and I did work ahead a fair bit to feel as though I could attend this festival yet again and not feel like I'm being irresponsible.  Yes, the brand bible and diagnostic and my portions of a group research project about introducing a mid-size electric vehicle to the Chinese market are not one hundred percent finished, but if I'm being fair with myself, I've made enough progress that I this trip should be guilt-free.

This is my eighteenth consecutive Ebertfest, although it's the first since 2015 that I will be here for every day.  (Those pesky graduate school courses kept me from the first two days in 2016 and opening night last year, sacrifices that I knew were sensible but gnawed at me nevertheless as I sat in those classrooms.)  Truth be told, other festivals that I attend have surpassed this one on the list of my favorites, but it's still near and dear to me because it was the first festival I attended and one that does a lot very well--and differently--to make it worthwhile.

When I reflect on the fact that this is my eighteenth year here, the reality of it is almost impossible to believe.  It doesn't seem that long ago that I first stepped into the Virginia Theatre to see a 70mm print of 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY smelling like barbecue because I sat downwind from the local vendor grilling outside the theater for hungry festivalgoers.  The hotel where I stayed during my first time here was torn down many years ago, the Virginia has undergone many renovations to restore its beauty and enhance its comfort, and the Neil Street corridor and downtown Champaign has transformed through a lot of development.  Of course, the festival itself has witnessed dramatic changes, especially as its namesake is no longer here in physical form, although his spirit remains evident in the tone the event sets.

I imagine that if you go to one place or one event year after year after year, it takes on some greater significance because you gradually observe the changes and come to realize that the same things are happening to you.  Blink and there's a corner teeming with restaurants when last you looked there were none.  Wait a minute, I've owned how many cars in that time?  (The answer is four, although one never had the chance to make the trip because it was prematurely terminated by a driver who rear-ended me without braking when I was stopped on the highway.)

I think Ebertfest invites reminiscing, in part because it's not built around new films and also because it possesses a strong nostalgic or sentimental quality.  Moviegoing as a communal experience gets derided for how often it fails us now--or how the rude fail the respectful majority--and it may be diminishing as consumer tastes change, be it because of price, convenience, or whatever factor you wish to blame.  Ebertfest occurs in a single theater and doesn't require pass holders to select between screening options unless there are films they don't want to see.  In that regard it is one big shared experience.  In the early days "overlooked" was in the festival's name.  Oddly enough, the act of seeing a film with a crowd is the sort of thing that may now be overlooked, or undervalued, that it could have a rightful place in the fest's name again.

Richard Roeper, Matt Zoller Seitz, director Andrew Davis, and Scott Mantz

THE FUGITIVE, director Andrew Davis's 1993 thriller based on an old TV show, kicked off the 20th edition of Ebertfest with enough affection for and exploration of Chicago to win over what seems to be an audience dominated by Illinoisans.  (At the fest's attendance peak, people from the Land of Lincoln probably still made up more than half of the crowd, but my impression is that Ebertfest has slowly become more of a local festival in terms of who comes.)  I don't know that I'd seen THE FUGITIVE since its original theatrical run, and aside from a couple of Tommy Lee Jones's highly quoted lines on pre-screening trivia slides in the 1990s, I didn't remember much about it.  If that seems damning, those lines are more than I recall about the sequel U.S. MARSHALS.

While the opening packs a lot of information about the murder of Dr. Richard Kimble's wife and the aftermath into a relatively short period of time, I felt restless waiting for THE FUGITIVE to finish the wind-up and get to the chase.  The practical effects of the train crash that frees Harrison Ford's wrongly accused character impresses and earned appreciative applause from the festival audience.  What sort of shocked me in revisiting the film is how much of it is a process movie, with the character elements kept to a minimum.  I doubt that what thrilled me about THE FUGITIVE in 1993 was how it functions as a tour of various parts of the city and the diverse people encountered along the way, but its time capsule quality, especially if the Chicago accent is disappearing, and the shoe leather beats with the hunter and the hunted are what pulled me in the most now.  Maybe that's also why long stretches of the film play to me as TV, although that may be more reflective of TV now than then.

One of the pleasures of rewatching older films for the first time in a long time is discovering people in bit parts who wouldn't have stood out then but have been there all along. THE FUGITIVE is populated with plenty of faces you'll likely recognize today even if you can't put a name to them.  Just as visiting places once a year over many years facilitates a form of time travel, so too do the movies provide a temporal transport, and a more accessible one at that.  I don't know what journeys await over the next four days at Ebertfest, but I eagerly look forward to taking them.

2017 Roger Ebert's Film Festival recap

I would prefer to attend Ebertfest in its entirety, which I did from 2001 until I started taking classes toward a Master’s degree in 2016, but being at most of it is certainly better than not being able to go. For the 2017 edition of Roger Ebert’s Film Festival I only missed opening night, which was aggravating insofar as HAIR counts among the six of this year’s twelve features I hadn’t already seen. Comme ci, comme ça.

I’ve been reviewing new films regularly since 1997, so the longer I’ve been coming to Ebertfest, the more likely it is that I’ve seen a substantial portion of what screens at the event. Still, with the number of films being made these days, it stands to reason that fewer of the smaller ones that pepper the Ebertfest schedule--the documentaries and indie features that get modest or meager theatrical releases--will have passed before my eyes. So, unlike many of the folks filling the seats at the Virginia Theatre trusting in what’s been curated for them, I’m ordinarily familiar with about half of the lineup. In that regard, I tend to divide the festival picks into three groups: films to reconsider, films I’ve been meaning to catch up with, and films to discover.

Among those in the reconsideration category were HYSTERIA, THE HANDMAIDEN, ELLE, PLEASANTVILLE, BEING THERE, and DE-LOVELY.  I'd seen ELLE and THE HANDMAIDEN within the last seven months, so I was most interested in observing how the Ebertfest crowd, which tends to be older, would react to these provocative films than in reassessing them.  Paul Verhoeven and Park Chan-wook are filmmakers who delight in shocking viewers, but as far as I could tell, the audiences at these screenings were willing to go to the dark and lurid places they were being taken.  I liked both about the same as I did on initial viewing, although ELLE played more as a redemption story, just a very twisted one, than I noticed before.  I've seen the great French actress Isabelle Huppert at a screening before, but it was no less fun to see her politely shoot down audience theories and questions that would make the work and her process easier to explain.

HYSTERIA, a historical comedy about the invention of the vibrator, demonstrated the benefit of seeing a funny film with a large crowd.  I like the movie but don't know that my opinion moved any on it this time, but it played better in a huge room consistently filled with laughter.  With ease of access to films virtually anywhere you want, I think that theatrical experience is less valued by the average moviegoer today, but this screening, and Ebertfest overall, show why seeing films on the big screen mattes, even for a "small" movie that is often characterized as something that can wait to be seen at home.

If I were to dig up my 1998 Top 10 list, I'm pretty sure PLEASANTVILLE was on it toward the bottom half.  I may not have seen it since it was in theaters, and this revisit was a nice reminder of a film with a clever concept that may works even if it might be a tad too earnest.  BEING THERE, on the other hand, made much more sense to me than when I saw it from a grocery-store rented VHS tape as an early teen.  That it represents to some degree the political reality that we're living in continues to lend potency to the film's humor.  As for DE-LOVELY, a second go-round with it didn't change my opinion of a nice-looking but not terribly compelling biopic.

Those with the potential for discovery included the documentaries THEY CALL US MONSTERS, MIND/GAME: THE UNQUIET JOURNEY OF CHAMIQUE HOLDSCLAW, and NORMAN LEAR: JUST ANOTHER VISION OF YOU.  I wouldn't characterize even the best of the bunch as a previously unknown gem, but the Norman Lear profile was as lively and pointed as the 94-year-old subject in his post-film participation in the Q&A.  Lear has been celebrated for a long time, but one thing this festival does well is shine the spotlight on people who have drifted out of it.  Donald O'Connor's 2003 Ebertfest appearance will probably be hard for the event to top, but the opportunity to see and hear an industry legend like Lear can be as valuable to attendees as the film that brought him there.  Norman Lear's son Ben was at Ebertfest as director of THEY CALL US MONSTERS, a documentary about juvenile offenders that feels like three films in one, none exactly satisfactory.  MIND/GAME focuses on a basketball star's difficulties and plays more like a TV special, which doesn't make it bad, just not the sort of thing I'd devote one of the few Ebertfest slots to.  (Of course, it's not my festival to program.)

TO SLEEP WITH ANGER and VARIETÉ are the best fits for films I’ve been meaning to catch up with, although neither were exactly on my radar and both are now on it.  Of all of the films at Ebertfest, I was perhaps most interested in seeing Charles Burnett's 1990 drama.  The festival dropped "overlooked" from its name years ago, but this film fits what I still think of as its mission: to bring attention to movies that didn't get the credit they deserved at the time and may be harder to see.  Burnett's excellent TV movie NIGHTJOHN would have been a terrific alternative pick.  Unfortunately for me, TO SLEEP WITH ANGER played at a perilous late afternoon time during which I struggled to stay awake after rolling into Champaign, Illinois around 1:30 a.m. and having to put up with a noisy hotel neighbor.  I faced a similar challenge with keeping my eyes open at the screening of VARIETÉ, which filled the almost annual spot provided to a silent film accompanied by Alloy Orchestra.

I may have been a little cooler on this year's lineup overall--and wished I'd been more awake at my two most eagerly anticipated films--but Ebertfest remains a highly enjoyable festival and is certainly worth the trip for those in the Midwest who don't have access to the films that play here or events that bring out the filmmakers.  I look forward to returning for its twentieth year in 2018.

2016 Roger Ebert's Film Festival recap

Having started classes toward a Master of Business Administration degree, it was necessary for me to miss opening night and the first full day of the 2016 Roger Ebert’s Film Festival. This was no small sacrifice for me, as I have attended every film at Ebertfest since 2001 and really enjoy the experience of being at it as part of each year at the movies.

As it turned out, I had already seen the first four films to play at the Virginia Theatre this year. Even though I yearned to be there, at least my familiarity with what was being shown meant that I didn’t need to feel like I was missing out. It would have been fun to see CRIMSON PEAK and THE THIRD MAN on the massive Virginia screen. I was less conflicted about missing GRANDMA and NORTHFORK, neither which I liked when watching them during their original runs, although I wouldn’t have minded revisiting the latter. Ebertfest has provided the space for reassessing films--some of which I did come around on after a second viewing--and as NORTHFORK was one Ebert championed, this would have been as good of a place and time as any to do so.

Ebertfest has a vibe akin to summer camp. Returning every mid-April provides the chance to reconnect with people you met there and may not have seen since the previous fest. That happens at other film festivals, but unlike the frenzied pace maintained in racing to one of multiple simultaneous options across a few square miles of a major metropolitan area, as with the Toronto International Film Festival, Ebertfest moves comparatively slowly, with screenings occurring at a common time and location for all in attendance in Champaign, Illinois. This allows for a relatively unhurried pace, aside from the free-for-all when the doors first open and passholders scramble to acquire their preferred seats for the day’s slate. I love the largeness and urgency of TIFF, but Ebertfest’s more deliberate state of being has its benefits. Attendees may be watching twelve feature films in five days, which would qualify as cinematic gorging for most people, yet here there is more time to digest them than the typical festival grants. The downtime between films is more likely to breed conversations among attendees and build the sense of community that clings to this festival.

As a longtime visitor to Ebertfest, I’ve wondered if the festival will be able to sustain itself without its namesake. Although my observations are anecdotal, I noticed that Ebert himself tended to be the biggest attraction regardless of what directors or actors were guests. Based on casual interactions with other passholders, his curation of and seal of approval for the selected films seemed to be of the utmost importance to those who bought passes and tickets. The crowds aren’t what they were when the festival was selling out passes quickly after going on-sale, but attendance appears to have stabilized to a healthy number that can support the annual event while not requiring one to be extraordinarily quick to ensure admission.

Ebert leaves a body of work that could easily serve as a guide to program a few decades worth of festivals. Co-founder and host Chaz Ebert and festival director Nate Kohn have always been involved with picking the films, so the task now falling to them, plus any directions left to them, is not as big of a shift in process as it might seem. Still, the difficult decisions surround what to play at the festival, especially if pass and ticket purchasers are accustomed to them having the critic’s endorsement. By my count, Ebert saw four of the films in this year’s line-up, with the two silent entries being ones he possibly screened during his life. At worst that’s a quarter of the selections; at best it’s half. Is that sufficient?

Clearly there has been a conscious choice for Ebertfest not to lock itself into being a purely repertory festival. Personally, I would prefer Ebert’s voice were a bit more prominent in the films chosen for this year. Assuming that rights issues aren’t a problem, it would be great if his old, pertinent TV reviews could play after each screening. Doing so would enhance the sense of his presence even in his physical absence. (It was a nice bonus when done this year.) Nevertheless, I also think they’re right not to keep the festival limited to films he reviewed or saw during his lifetime. If anyone has a right to surmise what new films he might have liked, it’s the two people in position to do so. Bringing in new films and talents keeps Ebertfest as an evolving thing rather than a museum piece, a quality that I intuit is important for this particular festival. Ebertfest has welcomed emerging filmmakers and critics rather than limiting those guests to a narrow group from one generation. If that is part of its mission, then it stands to reason that new films must play a significant role.

The highlights in this year’s line-up were BLOW OUT screened in a magnificent 35mm print and discussed in a post-film Q&A with star Nancy Allen; L’INHUMAINE with accompaniment by Alloy Orchestra; and EVE’S BAYOU with director Kasi Lemmons in attendance. At least where I live, Brian De Palma’s films tend to be harder to come by in revival screenings than other filmmakers of his generation, so seeing BLOW OUT like this was a treat. The Alloy Orchestra is an annual highlight of Ebertfest, and this year was no different. EVE’S BAYOU epitomizes the kind of film Ebertfest does well in showcasing. Ebert was a notable supporter of it, which makes it a good pick, but more importantly, it’s a film that may have slipped off the radar of cinephiles in the nineteen years since its debut. “Overlooked” was plucked out of the festival’s name many years ago because of its amorphous definition, but I think “overlooked” remains a valuable quality in what shows here. In a film culture increasingly driven by whatever’s newest, with canon titles getting the greatest attention for old films, there’s worth in shining the light on yesterday’s well-regarded films that have slipped through the cracks somewhat.

While I would prefer not to miss any days of Ebertfest, doing that this year permitted me to appreciate the respite it can be from everything else. Coming at the end of an academic term when I’ve been overwhelmed with homework, not to mention the day job, a few days of Ebertfest reminded that the movies can be an edifying escape.

Ebertfest 2015: Opening Night

Ebertfest holds a special place in my moviegoing life because it was the first film festival I attended. The experience could not have been better. The 2001 festival, it’s third edition, featured an exceptional mix of good to great films, was hosted by a film writer I admired and aspired to be, and was down to earth in a way that felt identifiably Midwestern. This was not an industry event but a populist celebration of cinema in a university town. I was hooked, and It’s why I’ve come to Champaign, Illinois every April for fifteen years now.

It may seem strange to see a movie before going to opening night of the 2015 Roger Ebert’s Film Festival, but the Art Theater, a short walk from festival central at the Virginia Theatre, was playing GREY GARDENS, which I hadn’t seen. Ebert mentioned the Art as being important to him , and he certainly encouraged locals at the festival to patronize it those weeks when Ebertfest wasn’t co-opting their moviegoing time. Inside the lobby over the entrance is a mural with the hometown critic sitting in the front row to the side next to Groucho Marx. The seating location isn’t where you were likely to find Ebert when he was at the movies, but it seems right for him to have such a place of prominence, if not the best viewing angle, in a picture featuring stars of the screen. When he attended his own festival, Ebert was always the biggest star in the room no matter what Hollywood performer or filmmaker was present.

Perhaps it was my own reservations about this year’s festival lineup--I’ll explain those feelings on another day--but opening night felt more muted than any other year I can recall. It could be that the lack of a “big” film or guest tamped down some of the excitement in the crowd. Maybe it was that I knew what was coming. To start things off, a 3-D film was being shown for the first time in the festival’s history. Not just any 3-D film, mind you, was beginning the 17th festival but Jean-Luc Godard’s GOODBYE TO LANGUAGE (ADIEU AU LANGAGE). Unlikely as it seems to me, I’d seen it twice before. While I have enjoyed it primarily as an aesthetic experience, GOODBYE TO LANGUAGE struck me as a uniquely terrible choice to start the festival. Late Godard can be hard to penetrate intellectually. Playful as it can be, this rigorous cinematic essay fits the description of a difficult film to a tee. I did not expect GOODBYE TO LANGUAGE to go over well with this audience, which isn’t to say that I doubt their tastes but that this is no one’s idea of a widely appealing film that might ordinarily fill the first slot on the festival schedule.

On viewing GOODBYE TO LANGUAGE a second time I found it extremely helpful to have read David Bordwell’s unpacking of the dense film. Knowing how to watch can make a huge difference in appreciating it. My third viewing didn’t yield any major revelations, but it confirmed that Godard captures images of exceptional beauty. The shot of one hand washing another looks clearer than reality. During a shot of a boat going away from the dock the undulating water looks so blue and welcoming. The doubling and overlapping of images and use and locations of sound make for a thrilling cinematic experience even if I have a hard time making heads or tails of it. To the Ebertfest crowd’s credit, I noticed just a few walkouts from my vantage point in the balcony. Opinions may be voiced more strongly against it while folks wait in line to enter the theater over the next few days, but on this evening my impression is that people wrestled with the challenging work rather than dismissing it outright. Could it be my doubts about the film's reception were unfounded?

Todd Rendleman, Peter Sobczynski, Goodbye to Language's Héloise Godet, and Matt Zoller Seitz

The night’s second session was also something unprecedented at Ebertfest. Instead of showing a film, a Harold Ramis tribute took place. Clips were shown from ANIMAL HOUSE, CADDYSHACK, STRIPES, NATIONAL LAMPOON’S VACATION, BACK TO SCHOOL, CLUB PARADISE, GHOSTBUSTERS, and GHOSTBUSTERS 2. Ramis’ widow Erica Ramis and producer Trevor Albert then joined Chaz Ebert and critics Glenn Kenny and Susan Wloszczyna to discuss his work from the earlier half of his career. Following the conversation were clips from GROUNDHOG DAY, STUART SAVES HIS FAMILY, ANALYZE THIS, MULTIPLICITY, THE ICE HARVEST, BEDAZZLED, ORANGE COUNTY, AS GOOD AS IT GETS, KNOCKED UP, WALK HARD: THE DEWEY COX STORY, and YEAR ONE. This portion was capped by a clip of Ebert and Gene Siskel reviewing GROUNDHOG DAY on their television show. The same people returned to the stage to talk about this part of Ramis’ filmography.

Context-free clips don’t exactly serve the work well, so I could have done without them even though I realize why they were incorporated into the program. I would have been content to listen to those Ramis knew and those who appreciated his talents talk about him. I really enjoyed seeing the Siskel and Ebert clip and would suggest knitting them into the festival when possible. How great would it be to watch the films at Ebertfest and follow them with pertinent reviews from the long-running TV show? Granted, these won’t exist with every film selected, and if there was a disagreement between the critics, some of the reviews might make for uncomfortable situations with a festival guest. Still, if done with care, this seems like a natural way of keeping Ebert’s voice in the festival.