ronald bronstein's "frownland"
what a jolt (and i needed that!)
http://www.ifccenter.com/event?eventid=999831
i really avoided the mumblecore features peddled by ifc this past month (it was nice until you see throngs of these charmingly limp pensive cassavetes-wannabes all over brooklyn, incestuously breeding films); and korean festival was a shame (squealing girls and muscle boys).
"frownland" was a welcome break. such an intense confusing experience. i can really identify with this obsessive desire to create such a monster. there is so much energy in this inability to communicate, so much direct violence - this inarticulate brute shot in closeups - right in your face, all this pent-up energy - compressed; like a drawn-out train crash that is played over and over again - you cannot look away, you are drawn to it, you enjoy the violence, you want more, but you are ashamed and feel empathy, and sadness - all of it at the same time.
you find yourself sympathizing with him, but at the same time enjoying this escalation of violence against him. there is so much raw intensity - like francis bacon paintings, it shows you how it feels, not how it looks (both to be him and to interact with him). this is a peculiar brand of realism - the feelings ring true, but the technique is not a tedious reconstruction.
there is such a confusing array of associations. take dogme, for instance. it is not "idioterne" - "frownland" is darker, but also kinder, and funnier, and more direct than trier. at times it might remind you of harmony korine - "gummo" or "julien donkey-boy", but there is less pathological fascination and absurdity. the final 20 minutes - the mad dash through the city and a fantastic party scene reminded me of denis lavant a bit - a wordless brute dancing in clair denis' "beau travail" or running through the streets in early carax. it is a tempting comparison.
there is also, of course, lodge kerrigan (who introduced the screening tonight) and frederick wiseman (the director mentioned him affectionately).
there are also early buster keaton/chaplin silents with abuse of the main character and preoccupation with the city, the machines, the dehumanization. there is quite a bit of slapstick humor in "frownland", often crossing the line into the painfully cringetastic territory (and even years of british sitcoms failed to steel me for that).
in fact this is very much a nyc theme that went through the whole movie - yearning to connect, pining for human touch, and inability to attain it - for him, and for us when we encounter something like this on the subway, instinctively backing away from it, brushing it off.
or it's like that outcast kid in school that everyone loved to hate and pick on, and felt exhilaratingly guilty at the same time, which only intensified the pleasure of abuse.
yes, there are slip-ups - the caricature of the high-school girl character, the music, the title, a bit of a gimmick with the ending (although one cannot deny its emotional appeal).
http://www.ifccenter.com/event?eventid=999831
i really avoided the mumblecore features peddled by ifc this past month (it was nice until you see throngs of these charmingly limp pensive cassavetes-wannabes all over brooklyn, incestuously breeding films); and korean festival was a shame (squealing girls and muscle boys).
"frownland" was a welcome break. such an intense confusing experience. i can really identify with this obsessive desire to create such a monster. there is so much energy in this inability to communicate, so much direct violence - this inarticulate brute shot in closeups - right in your face, all this pent-up energy - compressed; like a drawn-out train crash that is played over and over again - you cannot look away, you are drawn to it, you enjoy the violence, you want more, but you are ashamed and feel empathy, and sadness - all of it at the same time.
you find yourself sympathizing with him, but at the same time enjoying this escalation of violence against him. there is so much raw intensity - like francis bacon paintings, it shows you how it feels, not how it looks (both to be him and to interact with him). this is a peculiar brand of realism - the feelings ring true, but the technique is not a tedious reconstruction.
there is such a confusing array of associations. take dogme, for instance. it is not "idioterne" - "frownland" is darker, but also kinder, and funnier, and more direct than trier. at times it might remind you of harmony korine - "gummo" or "julien donkey-boy", but there is less pathological fascination and absurdity. the final 20 minutes - the mad dash through the city and a fantastic party scene reminded me of denis lavant a bit - a wordless brute dancing in clair denis' "beau travail" or running through the streets in early carax. it is a tempting comparison.
there is also, of course, lodge kerrigan (who introduced the screening tonight) and frederick wiseman (the director mentioned him affectionately).
there are also early buster keaton/chaplin silents with abuse of the main character and preoccupation with the city, the machines, the dehumanization. there is quite a bit of slapstick humor in "frownland", often crossing the line into the painfully cringetastic territory (and even years of british sitcoms failed to steel me for that).
in fact this is very much a nyc theme that went through the whole movie - yearning to connect, pining for human touch, and inability to attain it - for him, and for us when we encounter something like this on the subway, instinctively backing away from it, brushing it off.
or it's like that outcast kid in school that everyone loved to hate and pick on, and felt exhilaratingly guilty at the same time, which only intensified the pleasure of abuse.
yes, there are slip-ups - the caricature of the high-school girl character, the music, the title, a bit of a gimmick with the ending (although one cannot deny its emotional appeal).