Saturday Night at the Movies: SIFF 2012 --- Seattle Film Festival wrap party

Saturday Night at the Movies


SIFF 2012: Wrap party!


By Dennis Hartley


The 38th Seattle International Film Festival winds down this weekend, so this will be my wrap-up report. Hopefully, some of these will be coming soon to a theater near you…















I wish that I could tell you that writer/director/narrator Adam Curtis’ documentary All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace is as deep as its title (taken from a poem by Richard Brautigan), but I cannot. Ostensibly intended as an illustration of how mankind has become enslaved by its own technology (at least I think), Curtis opens his treatise with a portrait of Ayn Rand and an examination of what he alleges to be her influence on the cosmology of the Silicon Valley pioneers, and bookends it with theories about The Selfish Gene. In between, there’s Alan Greenspan, Dian Fossey, the ecosystem, gene theory, the internet, altruism, the global banking crisis, the Tutsis vs. the Hutus, the Man-machine… and a large orange soda. While Curtis does offer up a plethora of intriguing ideas over the course of his sprawling 180-minute film (edited from a 3-part BBC-TV series), ultimately he fails to connect them in any kind of satisfying (or cohesive) manner.












As an armchair cultural anthropologist, I’ve always found dinner parties to be a fascinating microcosm of human behavior. Ditto genre films; some of my favorites include The Anniversary Party, The Boys in the Band, and Don’s Party (my review). Unfortunately, White Camellias will be unable to join them this evening. Cybill Shepherd stars as a 60-ish artist, who has assembled a “perfect” Spanish-themed soiree. If all goes as planned, she hopes to rekindle a romance with a man she once had a fling with in Spain. All doesn’t go as planned, beginning with last-minute guest cancellations and heading downhill from there. I suspect that all didn’t go as planned for the filmmakers, either, because this attempt at romantic melodrama plays out as unintentional comedy instead. How bad is this film? One moment, our hostess recites poetry by Federico Garcia Loca to moon-eyed friends; in the next, a guest’s boyfriend loudly demands to know why his lover never tongues his ass. Destined to become the Showgirls of dinner party flicks.














Thale is an economical but highly imaginative sci-fi/horror thriller from Norwegian writer-director Aleksander Nordaas that plays like a mashup of The Island of Dr. Moreau and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. While on the job, two friends who work for a crime scene cleanup business stumble upon what appears to be a makeshift laboratory in a bunker beneath a remote farmhouse. Despite initial appearances, and the fact that the homeowner is most decidedly dead, it is not wholly “deserted”. Imagine their surprise. Not to mention what they discover in the freezer (*shudder*). Creepy, thrilling, generously tempered with deadpan humor and definitely not for the squeamish. This is the latest entry in what seems to be a burgeoning (and exclusively Scandinavian) horror subgenre: The Mythological Norse Creature Feature, which would include Beowulf & Grendel , the 2011 SIFF hit Trollhunter (my review), and Rare Exports (my review).









“Ginger Baker influenced me as a musician,” gushes an interviewee, who is quick to add “…but not as a person.” More than any other statement made in Beware of Mr. Baker, that one encapsulates the dichotomous nature of the man who many consider one of the greatest jazz-rock drummers of all time. Mixing archival footage with present-day chats with Baker, as well as observations from family members, admirers and former band mates, director Jay Bulger has assembled a compelling rockumentary that is as kinetic and unpredictably volatile as its subject. It’s probably a good thing that the filmmaker is a former boxer; in the opening scene, the ever-mercurial Baker punctuates his displeasure at some perceived slight by caning him on the nose. By his own admittance, interpersonal skills have never been his forte (he’s currently with the 4th Mrs. Baker). Still, what emerges is a portrait of an artist who literally lives for his art; he remains an absolute motherfucker on those drums because that is exactly what he was put on this earth to do.





OK, so I didn’t consciously set out to cover two docs about jazz drummers, but that’s how it worked out. Actually, I’m glad I caught Jeff Kaufman’s The Savoy King: Chick Webb and the Music That Changed America, because I learned quite a bit about a period of American music that I’m a bit rusty on-the Jazz Swing Era. Specifically, the story of a diminutive, hunch-backed drummer named Chick Webb, and the impact he made over the course of his relatively brief career (1927-1939). Crippled by TB of the spine (the result of a childhood injury), the self-taught drummer and band leader was not only a significant and respected player in his own right, but instrumental in fostering the career of one Ella Fitzgerald. With all due respect to the late Dick Clark, it turns out that his role in integrating America’s dance floors, while of significance, may have been overstated; it seems Webb was the true pioneer in that arena, thanks to the cross-cultural appeal of his music (years before American Bandstand). The archival footage is fabulous.

Previous 2012 SIFF coverage:
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Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
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