Gemini

Director Aaron Katz

 

GEMINI                     B+                                                      

US (92 mi) 2017  d:  Aaron Katz                   Official Facebook

Finally, a film playing at the film festival that is actually fun to watch.  Portland indie director Aaron Katz, the maker of COLD WEATHER (2010), seems to be amusing himself at the expense of the dreaded or perhaps hated Los Angeles (as viewed by everyone on the West coast that lives north of there), home of the nouveau riche with an arrogant, self-satisfied smugness, creating a film noir drama featuring women for a change, where it’s an absolute delight from start to finish, opening with upside down palm trees, mocking the southern California image and lifestyle.  Written, directed, and edited by Katz, which is his style, this is a beautifully conceived, well-written and gorgeous looking film, perhaps the director’s best effort yet. What’s interesting is that Katz as well as his musical composer Keegan DeWitt are both Oregonians transported to Los Angeles, where this film represents their first inkling of how it feels to live there, offering an impressionistic, neo-noir take that is irresistibly intoxicating, with a jazzy score underlying its stylish elegance.  Somewhere on the outskirts of LA as the sun is setting we find two friends in a car, actress Zoë Kravitz, alluring as always, playing Heather Anderson, a high-strung Hollywood actress who wants out of her latest project, while sitting alongside her is Lola Kirke as Jill LeBeau, her personal assistant, who receives an angry phone call from Heather’s ex-boyfriend, “Tell her I know what’s up.  Tell here to fuck off and I’m going to fucking murder her.”  Both tend to ignore this craziness as old news, instead focusing on the important matter at hand, as Heather wants Jill to do her dirty work for her, conveying her thoughts to the director, Greg (Nelson Franklin), who is waiting to meet her in an Italian restaurant to discuss the film.  While their personal banter is amusing, simply by the way they speak, almost in code, with Heather feeling especially vulnerable, but unable to deal with confrontation, and Jill resembling Greta Gerwig in her matter of fact style of delivery, where she plays the straight man to everyone else’s convoluted hysteria.  Greg, naturally, blows his top, but not before ordering two of every app (short for appetizer) on the menu, something this particular restaurant specializes in, but walks out in a huff before he has a chance to try it.  As if by design, Heather steps into his abandoned place at the table, joined by a rabidly interested fan (Jessica Parker Kennedy) who can’t get enough of Heather, gushing over her entire career, wanting to take selfies with her, which Heather, seemingly amused, has no problem with.  On their way out, the paparazzi descend upon them, especially Stan (James Ransone), a particularly obnoxious guy whose unethical practices match his scum personality. 

This little opening scene perfectly describes the world of celebrity, exposing the unique nature of friendships with assistants, where best friend and confidante only begins to describe their role, while also revealing a seedy side of Hollywood rarely portrayed in movies, showing a precarious relationship between stars and adoring, worshipping fans whose motives are entirely unclear.  As if to clear their heads, Jill and Heather are joined by Heather’s latest girlfriend, Tracy (Greta Lee), at some fashionable, late hour nightclub, with a color coded entrance reduced to slo-mo, where clearly visible is a “Gemini” zodiac tattoo on the back of Heather’s neck, all getting blitzed before the original two head back to Heather’s home, an immense, architecturally designed building that exudes a sleek, modern stylishness.  Strangely, the outdoor security motion detector light is triggered, but both are too tired and wasted, heading off to sleep.  Jill rises early, once again covering for Heather at planned reshoots, but before leaving, Heather confides that she feels unsafe and asks to borrow Jill’s handgun that she carries for protection, showing her how to use it before she goes, only to find Heather dead when she returns, shot five times with Jill’s gun, in a particularly gruesome scene.  The lead detective on the case, John Cho as Detective Ahn, is a savvy cop with a special charm, inviting her out for coffee where they can talk, then orders her a coffee even after she refuses and tells her to drink up, exhibiting more personality here than any other film, but he recognizes right away that Jill is the brains behind the operation, but also the lead suspect.  This unfortunate incident leads to a labrynthian journey to find the real killer and prove her innocence, as the cops are all over her home, leaving her no safe place of refuge, turning into an amateur sleuth on-the-run style of film, rounding up all the usual suspects while revisiting many of the familiar places of LA, including a ride through Mulholland Drive and the Hollywood hills, with that beautiful overlook of the city off in a distance glittering in lights.  Using his regular cinematographer, Andrew Reed, the city looks radiant on the surface, including an artfully designed color scheme, while highlighting a series of stunning architectural locations that accentuate a new, upscale Hollywood, interestingly filled with much younger clientele.  This actually has the feel of earlier Michael Mann films, as the artistic design fused with sophisticated jazz tones is striking, featuring the relaxed vibe of Southern California while accentuating the cool surface textures.  

What’s perhaps most remarkable is just how normal Jill seems, her adroit self-assurance, unbothered by all the pressure building up around her, as clearly she is an over achiever, yet prefers the anonymity of allowing someone else to shine, knowing they will be shown in the best possible light due to all the behind-the-scenes work that she puts in, taking care of all the little details, none of which are actually part of her job description.  At one point Detective Ahn asks where she’s from.  “Portland,” she responds, to which he inquires, “Maine or Oregon?”  These little asides are beautifully written and perfectly executed onscreen, with just the right timing and inflections.  Both Kirke and Cho give superb performances, always in balance as both ally and adversary, adding a contemporary demeanor for an updated, more laid back tribute to Raymond Chandler’s sleazy Los Angeles, where crime, betrayal and deception lurk around every corner, but instead of tough talk we get the common sense of a girl clever enough to figure things out.  While the first order of business is purchasing a disguise, Jill finds the most pretentiously cheap outfit imaginable, one that challenges anyone’s view of fashion sense, something of a knock on glamor in show business, bleaching her hair blonde (though it looks like a wig), adding a trench coat and silly hat, along with cheap sunglasses, looking pretty much as she did before in this surprisingly upbeat whodunit.  Humorously playing on character and identity, where Jill seems to be Heather’s other half, which hides her own persona, begging the question are things ever what they seem?  In this film, only Jill seems totally grounded in reality, while the world around her is a shape-shifter, constantly exchanging looks, discovering new identities with each new role, revealing yet another side to the media, exposing only what you want to expose, where charm is cynically scripted, hiding the real truth behind the scenes.  Similarly, there are baffling twists and turns ahead that may leave an audience perplexed and asking questions, yet following the clues, Jill’s persistence pays off, but not before her journey becomes a surprisingly fresh riff on hard-boiled detective capers, slyly subverting the genre, with Jill becoming the alter ego of the writer/director, where they seem to be in a running dialogue with each other in a kind of symbiotic relationship, literally matching wits with all the other characters.  At one point, decked out in black leather gear from head to toe, she seems to be the answer to a Russ Meyer fantasy.  Still, the pulsating rhythm and tone, along with the remarkable look of the film is attributable to the director in this brilliantly paced film, feeling electric at times, and always enjoyable, showing there’s no special tricks required for good filmmaking. 

Some Days Are Better Than Others

SOME DAYS ARE BETTER THAN OTHERS                      B

USA  (93 mi)  2010  d:  Matt McCormick 

Largely a mood piece on societal rootlessness and aimlessness, expressed by a theme of people in transit, economically on-the-fringe individuals who feel they are leading meaningless and indifferent lives, whose marginalized existence seems to stand for the new poverty in America, educated people who aren’t likely to ever reach the kind of economic security their own parents may have experienced.  Shot entirely in Portland, the visual design pays homage to Gus van Sant’s ELEPHANT (2003), especially the skyward shots of silhouetted telephone wires and lightposts, showing the unreachable vastness of the world above, which is certainly a contrast to the dilapidated buildings or worn out transient motels that dot the vicinity.  Portland and Seattle have been the center of various indie explosions, perhaps starting with Martin Bell’s documentary look at street kids in Seattle, STREETWISE (1984), shot entirely on location, followed two years later by van Sant’s MALA NOCHE (1986) or DRUGSTORE COWBOY (1989), both shot in Portland, where kids in droves flocked to these areas, soon to feature the grunge music revelations in Kurt Cobain and Nirvana in the late 80’s, not to mention the feminist, aggressively punk all girl band Sleater-Kinney from the 90’s, or even the Shins from the late 90’s.  Oddly enough, two of the three leads are from these eclectic bands, Carrie Brownstein, lead guitarist for Sleater-Kinney, and James Mercer, the lead singer/songwriter for the Shins.  This film is a reflection of this West coast state of mind, featuring a kind of perpetual restlessness akin to a nomadic existence, where no one wants to get pigeon-holed into being part of the establishment.  The worst sin apparently is contributing, in any shape or fashion, to the faceless scourge of inhumanity known as corporate excess.  In order to accomplish this task, one must literally drop out of mainstream society and find an alternative means of survival, which in this film means a neverending series of dead end temp jobs.       

Without ever resorting to the narrative contrivances of Alejandro González Iñárritu, whose criss-crossing storylines inevitably express his themes of global interconnectedness, this film seems to do the opposite, as the economic isolation of the individual leaves them vulnerable and exposed to sudden economic downturns, where their own persistence in pursuing a lifestyle of fringe outsiderism leaves them voiceless and unprotected.  These are people who typically avoid confrontation, but see their own lives in a state of friction with society at large, constantly victimized, where they simply walk away and move on, content with the small moments of freedom.  Brownstein sees herself as a somewhat confessional video diarist who thinks there may be a place for her on reality TV, that others may learn from her experiences, which at the moment is consumed with having her heart broken after being left by a callous guy who cheated on her.  She only discovered the truth by examining the contents of his e-mails.  Mercer is strictly a temp worker, a guy who routinely moves from job to job, always justifying his actions with an equal portion of complete disinterest in doing any real work.  In his eyes, work is meaningless, something one must resort to as little as possible, while following his steadfast routine of eating out for less than $6 dollars per day.  Renee Roman Nose has indigenous features, perhaps Hispanic or Native American, and rarely utters a word as she works in a thrift store collecting donated goods that people discard and have little use for any more.  But she becomes fixated when she discovers a child’s urn with her cremated ashes still intact.  Despite telling her boss, who has the name reported to the police, like an official lost and found, she can’t get her mind off of this dead child, as if her poor little restless soul is still wandering, never finding the peace of the hereafter.  Perhaps the strangest of the group is an 84-year old man (David Wodehouse) that Mercer visits regularly, mostly for the use of his car.  This distinguished gentleman has a video camera set up near a window where it can constantly take pictures of light reflected from a bowl of liquid soap, turning the screen into a rainbow kaleidoscope of constantly moving coagulating colors, something hard to imagine that takes on a life all its own.  Wodehouse is content to look at it from time to time, eventually adding a narration, exhilarated by the beauty of invention.

Oftentimes these indie projects get consumed by a certain indulgence, where for lack of a better word personal ambition seems to blind the artist from their own vision.  But that doesn’t happen here, as the writer/director has created a harmonious whole that has a poetic honesty about it, especially in the balance of the interior mood of the characters and what’s reflected by the original electronic sound design written by Matthew Cooper, from the band Eluvium, who can be heard on two YouTube videos shown here:  Eluvium - Under the Water It Glowed (8:26) and Eluvium - I Will Not Forget That I Have Forgotten (5:21), mirror images of one another, and a group whose music gets at the heart of the sad, lingering loneliness in these lives.  The film also does an excellent job expressing interior and exterior space, as it’s something these characters thrive on, yet have such difficulty fitting into pre-established societal molds that they must immediately reject, finding them tainted and artificial substitutes for what they’re really searching for.  One of the best sequences in the film is seeing Mercer alone in his room singing such a heartfelt version of “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” which accentuates to the core the inner soul of Brownstein, another character apparently unknown to him, but instead we see an ongoing montage of beautifully photographed foreclosed homes, each one representing lost and abandoned lives.  The film does not sink into contrivance or cheap sentiment and maintains a genuine concern for these lost souls, reflected by Mercer’s musical chairs of lost jobs, the abandoned dogs Brownstein works with at the animal shelter, the cremated remains of the missing girl, or even the impossibility for Wodehouse to enter into another serious relationship, having outlived the two loves of his life.  Like Aaron Katz in his recent COLD WEATHER (2010), this director makes excellent use of Cannon Beach, one of the most gorgeous locations in Oregon, located about 70 miles from Portland, which offers a kind of spiritual transcendence unreachable to these characters, who instead spend their lives moving from place to place, but mostly going nowhere. 

Kaboom

KABOOM                                         B+                  

USA  France  (86 mi)  2010  ‘Scope  d:  Gregg Araki 

Queer film fantasia at its finest, actually shot in ‘Scope, a first for Araki who returns to his filmmaking roots where he is constantly having a blast with this candy-colored material where he imagines being 18 again, set from the perspective of the New Order (not “the seminal band of the 80’s”) in the universe, where strange is the new normal.  The entire story revolves around a single character, Smith (Thomas Dekker), a bisexually curious college student whose dreams, everyday gay fantasies and thoughts are embellished onscreen with little left to the imagination, where constant blasts of lurid sexual imagery bombard the voyeuristic impulses from the audience and pretty much typifies how college life is portrayed.  It’s all about getting laid.  While most students may imagine this kind of lurid sensuality, most remain alienated and alone, isolated from the rest of the world in the worst way, even as they hang around in groups as a cover so that they at least entertain the possibility that they are social creatures.  Araki does wonders by turning that common perception upside down.  Smith has a best friend, the constantly-at-his-side lesbian companion Stella (Haley Bennett), the acid-tongued, highly sarcastic art student that invites him to a party where he immediately sees two women he’s never met before, but seen in a constantly recurring dream.  One, the voluptuously beautiful Lorelei (Roxanne Mesquida, from Catherine Breillat films), immediately goes home with Stella while Smith, who sees the other dreamgirl only instantly, the mysterious Red-haired girl (newcomer Nicole LaLiberte), is grabbed by London (yes she’s British, Juno Temple, daughter of documentary filmmaker Julien Temple), where both have near surreal sexual adventures, where Lorelei amusingly has supernatural powers where she casts a spell on her sexual partner to prolong the bliss in bed while London is simply every guy’s dream, as she won’t stop until her partner is completely satisfied.  This little montage of sexual satisfaction is hilarious, as at 18, that’s never the way it actually turns out, as kids are still way too self-conscious and end up blitzed on drugs or alcohol and can barely even remember what happened other than having to lie about it afterwards.    

Adding to the intrigue is Smith’s roommate Thor (Chris Zylka), seen in an opening dream montage, a blond surfer dude with marbles in his head for brains, exactly as Smith likes them, he fantasizes, but Thor insists he’s straight, while an amusing theme recurs throughout the film where this declaration is constantly in doubt.  Out of nowhere, Smith imagines he was attacked late one night along with the Red-haired girl by strange men in masks, where she might have been bludgeoned—cut to bright red jam in a scene at breakfast where Stella finds no evidence of any crime, but according to London, the Red-haired girl was in one of her classes and she has disappeared.  This musical chairs of missing persons, men in masks, hallucinations of perceived violence, all add to a creeping sense of paranoia that begins to spread like wildfires.  When cryptic messages are received, not to mention stealth computer sites that disappear in the night, Smith examines the source of these clues much like Aaron Katz uses a similar Sherlock Holmes subtext in search of a missing girl in his recent indie film COLD WEATHER (2010), both examining a different social strata.  Araki embellishes the gay world with bright colors and perfect physiques, with kids that are willing to hop into bed with one another, and a movie storyline that literally takes off on its own exaggerated sense of playfulness, where bad things continue to plague the world of these otherwise adorable teenagers who mysteriously continue to take an interest in one another.  Again, unlike the stagnant social lives of most teens who appear glum, moody, and continually down in the dumps, in this portrayal, someone’s always knocking on Smith’s door followed by an incessant barrage of cell phone calls of people constantly interested in seeing him.      

Smith’s investigations reveal cult-like symptoms in what is perceived as normal society, where an interesting family secret escalates to grotesque behavior, where the world is run by an L. Ron Hubbard style guru who seeks world domination, yet makes dire, apocalyptic proclamations that the end is near.  Poking fun at the acceptance of Scientology among the well-to-do in Hollywood circles, a movement known for its condemnation and abhorrence of homosexuality, yet accepted by a society where cult status becomes accepted as the norm, Araki uses this prevalent theme of a world falling off its axis.  While the story grows ever more ridiculous, reaching comic book proportions of conspiracy theory absurdity, this insanity is seen as a looming threat that is constantly menacing Smith and the world he knows, where men in masks run a secret campaign to round up innocent victims and make them disappear, much like the Ku Klux Klan once did, reigning terror against their intended victims, a lawless sect using fear tactics and violence that spread beyond the reach of the law, seen as a totalitarian threat intent upon annihilating gays, perhaps even willing to use the New Testament as a sign to fanatically bring about ultimate doom to the entire world, literally carrying out the wishes of a new Revelations.  Perhaps only in this manner can gays be eradicated from the earth.  But much like DOCTOR STRANGELOVE (1964), the director relishes each and every misstep, where there are more twists and turns in this film, all shown in humorous good fun, where the finale plays like the staging of a burlesque review, where the mad romp into the ever wackier world of the absurd is an irreverent dash to the finish line.  This is an insanely appealing film filled with clever twists and beautifully written dialogue that is so outrageously over the top that one can’t help but stand back and admire afterwards what a rollicking good time this was, and, like a Sirk film, that through the veneer of a film soaked in sarcasm and bright artificiality there is a glimpse of something serious lurking underneath.