9-12-03
Why?
Why is it that I constantly wind up having old men sit beside me at
festival screenings? And why is it that, more than 50% of the time,
it's old men who are in dire need of breath mints or a good bath?
No, seriously, WHY? 'Cause if I'm not there with a friend, or if I
leave for the washroom with a vacant seat next to mine, it's almost
ALWAYS filled with a smelly old guy by the time I get back? I'm not
exaggerating, either. I mean noticeably aromatic older gentlemen, and
not the good kind of aftershave-y aromatic. I mean, I know one tends to
get busy when one is seeing dozens and dozens of films back to back for
days on end, but SURELY one can spare five minutes in the morning or at
night to hop in the shower with a bar of Irish Spring... right??
I'm having this small bit of venting because I wound up elbow to elbow
with the aforementioned moviegoing type in back-to-back films today. So
I'm just saying.
Thankfully, I saw my first film of the day, Wonderland, with my
friend Angela, so *she* sat next to me. She did not smell, nor did she
need a Tic Tac. (Smelly old men, please take note.) The movie details
the Wonderland Murders of 1981, which involved washed-up porn star John
Holmes (a hideously coiffed Val Kilmer), a misguided robbery,
lots of drugs and Eric Bogosian in an unflattering pair of black
bikini briefs. The movie was all fine and good until the rather graphic
murder scene towards the end. The distinct and more than a little
grotesque sound of metal pipes smashing in human skulls isn't what one
would call subtle or delicate.
On the way out of the screening, Angela and I discussed the fact that
female characters peeing (on the toilet) seems to be the new motif of
choice for a growing number of filmmakers. At least half a dozen of the
films I've seen this year feature an actress dropping trou and having a
wee piddle whilst delivering her lines.
Moving on...
The confounding French drama Nathalie... was next. The story
finds a wife (Fanny Ardant) hiring a prostitute (Emmanuelle
Béart) to seduce her husband (Gérard Depardieu) when she
suspects him of being fidelity-challenged. Gradually, the two women
forge... they sort of become... well, you know, I'm not completely
certain what it is they're forging or what they actually become,
because their exchanges drift back and forth between heading towards a
platonic, maternal and/or romantic relationship. I'm not sure what kind
of direction director Anne Fontaine handed the actresses because
half the time they look like they're going to rip each other's clothes
off and start making out, and the rest of the time they have this
curious mother-daughter thing going on.
It was incredibly frustrating, especially since the two women have
fantastic chemistry onscreen and a romance would have made the entire
journey far more worthwhile for all involved, including me. Plus, the
constant waffling in terms of story direction made me want to shake
Anne Fontaine until she chose a side for her characters.
Equally frustrating, but for entirely different reasons, was
Testosterone, a weird drama (comedy?) about a scorned graphic
novelist (David Sutcliffe) desperately trying to find the Latin
lover (Antonio Sabato Jr.) who dumped him. He winds up tracking
his ex-flame to Buenos Aires, and it just goes downhill from there. The
film was met with a lukewarm reception and felt like it just dragged on
and on and on until it reached its anticlimactic conclusion. Antonio
Sabato Jr. actually attended the screening, though, which was sort of
unexpected and, ultimately, kind of pointless, since this film had the
shortest Q&A session I've ever witnessed. It was literally one
question, and then the moderator suddenly told us the time was up.
'Kay, thanks!
The funny thing was listening to the film's publicists and assorted
crew members after the screening was finished and they were
leaving the theatre. They were all trying to make excuses for why the
audience didn't respond better (were they expecting a standing
ovation???). Someone actually suggested that it was because we probably
didn't "get it." Riiiiiight. Hey, here's a crazy thought: maybe we didn't like
it because it wasn't all that good.
Proving the old adage that a great Q&A session can make up for an
otherwise average film was final screening of the day, actor Scott
Caan's stylish directorial debut, Dallas 362. The movie,
about a pair of L.A. pals (Caan and Shawn Hatosy) who get into
all sorts of trouble before they contemplate one final "job", was okay.
It was fine. But the Q&A afterwards was super! Scott Caan was there
and, although claiming he was very nervous, he took to the stage,
promptly sat his ass down upon it (leading the mildly perplexed
moderator to follow suit) and casually fielded questions. He proved
himself to be intelligent, funny and very well-spoken. This is only
surprising because he's best known for his roles as, typically,
muscle-bound meatheads with a propensity for violence.
And that was that. Tomorrow is the last day of the festival, and I
actually have a quartet of films lined up that I'm looking forward to
seeing. Normally, the last Saturday is spent using up tickets at
whatever screening remnants are left, but not this year.
Yay!
CELEBRITY SIGHTINGS: Antonio Sabato Jr. [An added note: Mr. Sabato's
bits and pieces are all on full display in his film, for anyone
inclined to care about such things.]
LINE BUZZ: You know, I wish I could remember.
— Vickie
