An American Story: Norman Mineta and His Legacy traces the life and times of Norman Mineta, who amassed a startling number of “firsts” and other distinctions in America history:
The first Asian-American mayor of a major U.S. city.
The first Japanese American member of Congress elected from the 48 Continental states.
A Cabinet Secretary in both Democratic and Republican Administrations.
The nation’s longest-serving Transportation Secretary.
The achievements were even more remarkable given that, as a child, Mineta was imprisoned by his own US government in a WW II internment camp. And given that his political base had, during his career, an Asian-American population of far less than ten percent.
This didn’t happen by accident. Norm Mineta is a driven man. At the same time, his ambition and will is tempered by his buoyancy and ebullience.
Documentarians Dianne Fukumi (director and co-producer) and Debra Nakatomi (co-producer) embed the story of Japanese-Americans, from immigration through internment, and on to reparations.
AN AMERICAN STORY: NORMAN MINETA AND HIS LEGACY
The defining event for Mineta’s Nissei generation was the WW II internment of 120,000 Americans by their own government. The central thread in the Mineta story is that the injustice of Mineta’s internment informed George W. Bush’s resistance to treating American Muslims that same way in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks.
Mineta being sworn into the US House of Representatives by House Speaker Carl Albert in AN AMERICAN STORY: NORMAN MINETA AND HIS LEGACY
The film’s most delightful moment may be the octogenarian Mineta sunnily taking his luggage through security at Norman Y. Mineta San Jose International Airport.
[Full disclosure: I have known Norm since I served in his 1974 primary campaign and interned for him on Capitol Hill in the mid 70s.]
I saw An American Story: Norman Mineta and His Legacy at an October 2018 special screening with Norm Mineta, Fukumi and Nakatomi in San Jose. A brisk 60 minutes, it will be broadcast on PBS in May 20.
The romantic comedy Long Shot looked eminently skipable to me until I read Manohla Dargis’ NY Times review, which concluded that the unexpected pairing of Charlize Theron and Seth Rogen worked. We didn’t like it as much as Manohla did, but The Wife and I had a moderately good time.
Charlize Theron and Seth Rogen play folks who grew up next door to each other as kids. Twenty-five years later, he has gone on to become a talented muckraking journalist of minor note and uncertain employability. She has become the US Secretary of State and a presidential hopeful, a glamorous celebrity and the most powerful woman in the world. When their paths cross as adults, the Beauty and the Beast connect, sparks fly and comic stations ensue. The most biting gags send up Rupert Murdoch and Fox News.
The drop-dead-beautiful Theron, of course, won the Best Actress Oscar for playing the not-drop-dead-beautiful serial killer Aileen in Monster. She has also become cinema’s best action star (male or female) with Mad Max: Fury Road and Atomic Blonde. But she’s also made two of the smartest comedies of the century in Young Adult and Tully, both times bravely playing an unsympathetic character. Long Shot is easily within her range, and she’s predictably excellent.
Rogen is always good in a comedy, and he’s fine here, too. Director Jonathan Levine previously directed two even better comedies, 50/50 and Warm Bodies.
This isn’t cinema for the ages, but Long Shot contains plenty of chuckles and several hard guffaws.
A Bucket of Blood is a campy, minor horror film from 1959, but it’s most interesting as window into beatnik culture. Turner Classic Movies will air A Bucket of Blood on May 13.
In 1959, the Beat Movement had been alive for a decade, but had just begun to be recognized by the mainstream culture. Beatniks, before the usage of that word, had been glimpsed in the 1950 classic noir D.O.A. and in 1957’s Roman Holiday. The word “beatnik”, usually a pejorative used by squares, was resisted by the Beat generation artists and thinkers. According to Wikipedia, the term was coined by Herb Caen in his San Francisco Chronicle column of April 2, 1958. Of course, the popular stereotype of a Beatnik stems from the character of Maynard G. Krebs (played by Bob Denver of later Gilligan fame) on TV’s Dobie Gillis (1959-63).
By 1959, beatnik consciousness was ripe for exploitation by low-budget movie wizard Roger Corman, who produced and directed A Bucket of Blood. The story is about a loser who covers a dead cat with plaster of Paris and is acclaimed as a talented sculptor. He embraces the hoax and starts hunting victims to cast into human “sculptures”; hence the horror and the bucket of blood.
“Beatnik” conjures up 20-somethings adorned in black turtleneck sweaters (and black leotards for women), berets, goatees and dark glasses; they’re in coffee houses snapping their fingers to applaud poetry and jazz. And they’re conversing in hip cat patter. Watch A Bucket of Blood and you’ll get a dose.
Can you dig it?
[Ubiquitous game show host Burt Convy, as a young actor, played Lou in A Bucket of Blood.]
Meeting Gorbachev is Werner Herzog’s admiring biodoc of Mikhail Gorbachev, unquestionably one of the 20th century’s most pivotal figures. Herzog filmed three conversations with the then 87-year-old Gorbachev in 2018.
Gorbachev is revered in Germany – particularly by Werner Herzog – for allowing the peaceful, and startlingly quick, reunification of Germany. This biodoc is, to a fault, uncritical. At one point, Herzog even tells Gorbachev, “I love you”.
As the leader of the USSR, Gorbachev’s concepts of Perestroika and Glasnost transformed the political, economic and foreign policy of the Cold War superpower. More than any other individual, Gorbachev can claim credit for ending the Cold War, abolishing and destroying mid-range and short-range nuclear weapons, and the unchallenged independence of the Iron Curtain countries.
Gorbachev is also a tragic figure of Shakespearean proportions. He was intending to reform the USSR, not to destroy it. A coup by fossilized communists knocked him out of power but couldn’t be sustained, spinning out of control and leading to a chaos taken advantage of by the strong man Putin,.
Herzog’s film is excellent in its well-researched and well-told story of the rise of Gorbachev from a modest agricultural backwater – a talented achiever on the rise. Herzog’s irreverent sense of humors, as always, peeks through in the state funerals of Gorbachev’s predecessors, each more absurdly funny than the last.
The greatest gift of Meeting Gorbachev is, as the title suggests, is the unfiltered Gorbachev himself – now a grandfatherly raconteur. We get to appreciate his intellectual curiosity and his clarity of thought and direction. His charm and charisma, even at 87, help us understand how he rose to world leadership.
Werner Herzog and Mikhail Gorbachev in MEETING GORBACHEV
Herzog was a charismatic and innovative leader of German New Cinema. Between 1972 and 1982, he created the art house hits Aguirre:The Wrath of God, Strozek Nosferatu the Vampyre, and Fitzcarraldo.
In 1997, Herzog switched gears with the underrated documentary Little Dieter Needs to Fly and followed it with great docs like Grizzly Man and Encounters at the End of the World. Most remarkably, Herzog has also become one of the greatest narrators of English language documentaries; somehow, his German-accented narrations are hypnotic. (In 2007, Herzog slipped in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans with Nicholas Cage in the Klaus Kinski wild man role and cinema’s funniest iguana hallucination.)
Meeting Gorbachev played at the San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILM). I saw Meeting Gorbachev at Silicon Valley’s Cinema Club.
Jue Huang in a scene from Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Photo by Bai Linghai, courtesy Kino Lorber.
In the singular Chinese neo-noir Long Day’s Journey Into Night, Luo (Jue Huang) embarks on a search to find the mysterious woman he dallied with twenty years before. As he follows the clues, he plunges into an atmospheric underworld of dripping darkness and people who don’t want to talk. Along the way, he encounters the sultry, down-on-her-luck floozy Wan Qiwen (Wei Tang), whose lethal, fedora-adorned boyfriend does not want to relinquish her to Luo’s quest.
After a low burn beginning, Luo’s search reaches its climax in a spectacular ONE-HOUR single shot. It’s nighttime and both the exteriors and interiors are lit to evoke a surreal world stained by noirish danger. The shot requires the camera to follow Luo and Wan Qiwen, together and separately, inside and outside, between various levels and twice past a nervous horse, all while other characters interact with them. It’s right up there with the magnificent shots in Children of Men, Goodfellas, Touch of Evil, The Secret in Their Eyes, Atonement, Gun Crazy and the one-shot film Victoria.
Long Day’s Journey Into Night is the triumph of writer-director Bi Gan, who never forgets that he is telling his story in the medium of cinema. Long Day’s Journey Into Night is so atmospheric that sometime we feel the dankness of his set designs. Repeatedly, the richest of colors stand out against noirish backdrops. Wan Qiwen is unforgettable in her satiny emerald green dress, lit by Luo’s headlights as he tracks her by automobile in a dark tunnel. (Bi Gan has acknowledged his admiration for Wong Kar-wai, and Bi Gan has created a film as visually intoxicating as Wong Kar-wai’s.) Ban Gi used three directors of photography; the second cinematographer prepared the final shot for the third. There are recurring themes of spinning rooms, flooded floors and dripping ceilings, single flames and sparklers. The soundtrack centers on ambient sound, with very few musical cues.
Wei Tang, Yongzhong Chen in a scene from Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Photo by Liu Hongyu, courtesy Kino Lorber.
All of this enhances the story of Luo’s obsession with a doomed romance (and possibly more than one doomed romance). He can’t sure that what he hears is true – or even that what he sees is real. It’s a world filled with dissolute and murderous men and unreliable women. Luo asks a man, “Is that child yours?” and is answered, “She was a master story teller” (not a complement in this instance).
Bi Gan says, “It’s a film about memory”. Indeed, he has Luo say, “The difference between film and memories is that film is always false. They are composed of a series of scenes. But memories mix truth and lies. They appear and vanish before our eyes .”
That final shot is in 3D. Bi Gan says, “After the first part (in 2D), I wanted the film to take on a different texture. But I believe this three-dimensional feeling recalls that of our recollections of the past. Much more than 2D, anyway. 3D images are fake but they resemble our memories much more closely.”
Hong-Chi Lee in a scene from Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Photo by Liu Hongyu, courtesy Kino Lorber.
This film is entirely written by Bi Gan, with no apparent relationship to the identically-titled 1962 film of the Eugene O’Neill play, the famed four-hander with Katharine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson, Jason Robards and Dean Stockwell. The Mandarin title of Bi Gan’s film is literally Last Evenings On Earth, a title which came from a short story by Roberto Bolaño. Bi Gan just liked the title Long Day’s Journey into Night and thought that it fit the spirit of his film.
Long Day’s Journey Into Night is the biggest Chinese art house hit ever, and won an award at Cannes in 2018. It opens this weekend in the Bay Area.
Elisabeth Moss soars in Her Smell, a portrait of epic self-destruction. Moss plays a talented and charismatic rock star, her narcissism exponentially magnified by drugs. She is so deranged that we can’t tell if she is possessed by demons or is a demon herself. While the drugs make her a monster, we learn that they are not the only influence on her damaged psyche.
Moss’ performance as the volatile and feral Becky Something is terrifyingly unhinged and explosive. Becky immediately pivots (even mid-sentence) between charmer and predator. Moss is utterly committed to this role and left nothing on the sound stage. It’s the powerhouse performance of 2019.
We first grew to appreciate Elisabeth Moss as Peggy Olson, perhaps the Mad Men character with the greatest arc. Since then, she’s anchored The Handmaid’s Tale, and I recommend her less well-known turn as an Aussie cop in the Top of the Lake miniseries. But after people see Her Smell, they’ll start thinking that she can play ANYTHING – and anything compellingly .
Moss also sings well enough to make a credible rock star. As I wrote about Elle Fanning in Teen Spirit, given that Rami Malek just won an Oscar for lip-syncing, we should bestow a Nobel upon Moss.
Elisabeth Moss in HER SMELL
The Wife noticed that writer-director Alex Ross Perry’s choices of chaotic camera and discordant musical tones mirror the character’s inner chaos; later, he uses serenity and stillness to help us distill Becky’s persona. I also agree with The Wife that Her Smell is unnecessarily long at two hours and fourteen minutes; this would be a much more powerful film at 100 minutes. (Ross also wrote Listen Up Philip, a very funny dark comedy about another dysfunctional protagonist and one of the very few successful mumblecore films; Moss co-starred with Jason Schwartzman in that one.)
Her Smell’s supporting players are superb, especially Agnyess Deyn and Gayle Rankin as Becky’s bandmates, Dan Stevens (Downton Abbey) as her ex and art house vet Eric Stolz as her manager; in turn enabling Becky and being victimized by her, they are always walking on eggshells. Becky’s mom is played by the sublime Virginia Madsen. Former model Cara Delevingne was excellent in the teen film Paper Towns, and does well here as one of Becky’s bewildered acolytes.
Her Smell’s theatrical run is not likely to last long – try to find it. I’ll make a point of making it a Stream of the Week when it becomes available on video.
Ramen Shop is about a family’s reconciliation in light of troubled Singaporean-Japanese history. Masato (Taikumi Saito) is a young Japanese ramen chef who loses his father; his Singaporean mom had died when he was a young child. He heads to Singapore to probe his family’s past and encounters a smorgasbord of Singaporean cuisine, a helpful and comely food blogger and his relatives – some more welcoming than others.
The first thirty minutes – with the grief of the son, his memories of his saintly mother and the flashbacks of parental romance – are too schmalzy for me. On the other hand, the thread of family turmoil as the legacy of a specific trauma from the Japanese conquest of Singapore works well.
There’s a metaphorical foodie angle here, too, in Masato’s Holy Grail – fusion of Singaporean pork rib soup with Japanese ramen stock. The foodie scenes – especially the food exploration scenes in Singapore – are mouth-watering.
I saw Ramen Shop at the San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILM). It opens this week in the Bay Area.
The psychological suspense movie Una revolves around two twisted people, one of whom has been damaged by trauma. Here’s what the audience can be confident really happened: at age 14, Una (Rooney Mara) was seduced by a much older man, Ray (Ben Mendelsohn); she became infatuated with Ray and they carried on a sexual relationship for three months until he was caught and imprisoned for four years. Upon leaving prison, he changed his name and started a new life. It’s now fifteen years after the original crime and Una has tracked him down.
We can tell that Una is obsessed with Ray. What we don’t know is whether Una is seeking vengeance or whether she is in love with him – or both. She’s so messed up that even she may not know.
Lolita was a novel with a famously unreliable narrator. Una presents us with TWO unreliable narrators. Almost every statement made by Ray COULD be true, but probably isn’t. He was in love with her, he came back for her, she was his only underage lover, he’s not “one of them”, he’s told his wife about his past – we just can’t know for sure. Ben Mendelsohn delivers a performance that tries to conceal whatever Ray is thinking and feeling but allows his desperation to leak out.
The excellent actor Riz Ahmed (Four Lions, The Reluctant Terrorist) is very good as Ray’s work buddy, who must deal with one totally unforeseeable surprise after another.
Una really relies on Rooney Mara to portray a wholly unpredictable character in every scene, and she succeeds in carrying the movie. Mara’s face is particularly well-suited when she plays a haunting and/or haunted character, and it serves her well here.
I originally saw Una at Cinequest. You can stream it from Netflix Instant, Amazon, iTunes, Vudu, YouTube and Google Play.
Amazing Grace is, at once, the recovery of a lost film, the document of an extraordinary live recording and an immersive, spiritual experience.
At the height of her popular success in 1972, Aretha Franklin recorded a live album of gospel music. She brought her producer Jerry Wexler and her band to New Temple Missionary Baptist Church in Los Angeles, a large but modest church with a cheesy mural of Jesus emerging from the waters after his baptism by John the Baptist. Accompanied by James Cleveland and the Los Angeles Community Gospel Choir, she performed for two nights, and the recordings became Amazing Grace, the top-selling gospel album of all time.
The whole thing was filmed by director Sydney Pollack and his crew with five cameras. Having made his bones in live television, Pollack would seem to be a great choice, but he made a critical mistake – he neglected to use clappers, the equipment that allowed for synchronizing the filmed images with the recorded sound. Frustratingly worthless, the film sat in canisters until decades later when technology allowed the music to be synced to the 16mm film. Aretha, however, was notoriously prickly in business affairs, and the rights could not be secured until after her death. Alan Eliot is responsible for finding and assembling Pollack’s footage and turning it into a feature film that could be released for the rest of us to see; appropriately, Eliot’s credit is “Realized and produced by Alan Eliot”.
What brought Aretha get to this moment in 1972? Aretha had grown up in the Detroit church led by her formidable father, C.L. Franklin, immersed in gospel music until she launched a pop music career at age 18. When she was 25, she began working with Wexler, who “got” her, and she became a soul and crossover superstar with Respect, I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You), Do Right Woman, Do Right Man, Baby I Love You, (You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman, Chain of Fools, Ain’t No Way, Think, I Say a Little Prayer and Rock Steady. At 30, Aretha commanded the field of R&B and looked to return to her gospel roots.
When Aretha enters the church, the atmosphere is electric, and Aretha is ready from her very first note of Wholy Holy. The church audience knows their gospel music, appreciates what they are witnessing and is, to a person, thrilled. The audience becomes more and more emotionally involved.
Aretha’s version of What a Friend We Have in Jesus is unrecognizable (in the very best way). On Precious Memories, Aretha’s humming is internally intense, and then her voice soars. Completely committed, Aretha produces a prodigious amount of sweat.
The high point of the film is Aretha’s closing song on the first night, Amazing Grace. It’s a very long version of the song, and the choir doesn’t sing until the very end. As Aretha’s instrument wrings every drop of emotion from that most familiar song, we watch the choir members’ reactions, which range from admiration to inspiration, many moved to tears. The moment is one of genius for Aretha and one of epiphany for the choir and for the film audience.
One of the great pleasures of Amazing Grace is watching the choir leader, Alexander Hamilton, lead his choir with an expressiveness that is both elegant and funky. If there is a co-star in Amazing Grace, it’s Alexander Hamilton.
There are pauses for technical issues, which bring out the authenticity of the moment and reinforce that this was a live event. It’s easy to spot Mick Jagger and Charlie Watts in the crowd on the second night.
Where does Amazing Grace fit in the concert film canon along with Monterey Pop, The Last Waltz, Stop Making Sense, Woodstock and The T.A.M.I. Show? It’s in the conversation.
In the thought-provoking documentary We Believe in Dinosaurs, filmmakers Clayton Brown and Monica Long Ross introduce us to Ark Encounter, a Kentucky attraction with a full-size replica of Noah’s Ark. Explicitly pro-creationism and anti-evolution, Ark Encounter is filled with interpretive exhibits that illustrate the Biblical story of Noah as historical fact, kind of a fundamentalist, evangelical Smithsonian. Ark Encounter is 45 miles from its sister attraction, the Creation Museum.
There’s a lot to think about – and even marvel about – here. First of all, the Ark Encounter is an impressive spectacle. In Genesis, God directed Noah to build the ark to be 300 cubits long, 50 cubits wide, and 30 cubits high. That means that this thing is a football field-and-a-half long and over four stories high. We get to meet and observe the technicians and artists as they build the animatronic Noah family and the reproduced animals.
The bigger story here, though, is the massive investment in anti-science propaganda. To justify their literal acceptance of Biblical content that is inconsistent with scientific fact, these folks behind the Ark Encounter believe that they need to discredit science itself. And they’re not just defending the literal occurrence of every Bible story, but also the chronology of Bishop Ussher who, in the mid 1600s, calculated that the earth was created in 4004 B.C. That means that the Ark Encounter aggressively explains that the Earth and the human race, despite fossil evidence, are each 6,000 years old – and that dinosaurs lived alongside humans (and voyaged on the Ark). It also means that they seek to discredit the Theory of Evolution and the scientific method itself (while enjoying its byproducts – vaccines, for example).
When you distill their beliefs, these neo-creationists are essentially turbanless Taliban. Just for perspective, after suppressing Galileo’s 1615 discovery of the earth-centered solar system, the Catholic Church started backpedaling in 1718. That means that 300 years ago, even the reactionary Church decided not to double down on denying scientific discoveries.
And what about the scientists? And people of faith who accept science? We Believe in Dinosaurs brings us the perspectives of Ark Encounter opponents, most notably a geologist, and a former neo-creationist, both native Kentuckians. There’s also a local Baptist minister, who thinks that people of faith can also accept science.
One of the stunning aspects of We Believe in Dinosaurs is the unexpected David-and-Goliath story. We might expect the science-deniers to be outmatched. But the folks with most primitive beliefs are the creative masters. Anti creationists are the Goliath, supported by hordes of believers, massive private investment, capacity for technical wizardry and even state support. On the other hand, scientists are not often skilled in or equipped with tools for political persuasion and mass communications. The pro-science folks are, like John the Baptist, a lone voice in the wilderness, losing the optics battle.
Brown and Long Ross have a point of view (that science is good), but they don’t make the Ark Encounter people ridiculous. We directly hear the Ark Encounter leadership’s public pronouncements, and we meet the earnest and often sympathetic folks who are using their considerable talents to build and fill the attraction. Brown and Long Ross let us hear from both sides and let us connect our own dots. Watch the closing credits to the very end to get the subjects’ unfiltered view of the filmmakers. And wait for the film’s super-creepy money shot – that of an animatronic figure reflecting on the fate of others.
I saw We Believe in Dinosaurs at its world premiere at the San Francisco International Film Festival (SFFILM). While We Believe in Dinosaurs is just starting out on the festival circuit, this film is too compelling and audience-friendly to go very long without a distributor; I expect that you’ll be able to see it, too, this year.
