It Felt Like Love

IT FELT LIKE LOVE              B+           
USA  (82 mi)  2013  d:  Eliza Hittman               Official site

If you happen to know a brave fifteen-year-old, that’s not too embarrassed to act in an emotional teenage role, that deals with things teenagers deal with — please have her contact me.  Most of the kids I’ve been seeing can only handle a part that’s an idealized version of how they want to be perceived.  It’s kind of incredible that parents would let their children perform in some totally exploitative slasher movie, but tense up at the opportunity to be a part of a fictional yet emotionally truthful coming-of-age film.     

—Eliza Hittman, director post on the Tumbler blog while searching to cast her lead character, June 7, 2012

This is a heavily stylized American indie film that offers a different take on a 14-year old girl’s sexual awakening, shot in the edgy, off kilter manner of Matthew Porterfield’s Putty Hill (2010), becoming more of a fragmented, lyrical abstraction than a straightforward coming-of-age tale, told in a kaleidoscope style of shifting images where the narrative is supplanted by the sensuality of the imagery.  First time writer/director Eliza Hittman grew up in central Brooklyn in a neighborhood called Flatbush, now given a fancy real estate name called Ditmas Park, and teaches graduate level directing classes at Columbia University’s School of the Arts.  Her film premiered at Sundance nearly a year ago where it was voted (#7) by Laura Kern as one of the Top 10 Films from Sundance 2013 | Film Comment.  What separates this film from others is the slowly building sensuous undertone that continues to create sexual tension throughout, where because of the starkly realistic discussion of teen sexuality, the viewer’s expectations are subverted by the degree of the lead character’s extreme alienation, becoming a darker, more introverted film.  While the tendency of male directors is to show plenty of nudity in highly acclaimed coming-of-age films like the Cannes Palme d’Or winner Blue Is the Warmest Color (La Vie d'Adèle, Chapitres 1 et 2) (2013) and Ozon’s Young & Beautiful (Jeune & Jolie) (2013), to name two of the select twenty films at Cannes playing in competition, but Hittman’s film allows for a feminist interpretation that has historically been viewed through a misogynist lens.  Lila (Gina Piersanti) is an alienated girl on the outside who has just lost her mom, while her father (Kevin Anthony Ryan) is still a basket case of frazzled nerves.  But our introduction to the character is a wordless opening sequence at the beach, where Lila’s face has a peculiar white mask effect, caked perhaps by an excess of sunscreen, but it gives her the theatrical look of a Kabuki style face, a stand-in for the artificial face teens often show to others in public while hiding their true self.  Already we can tell she’s different, accompanied by another couple, her best friend Chiara (Giovanna Salimeni), more sexually experienced, seen openly kissing and flirting with her boyfriend Patrick (Jesse Cordasco) in Lila’s presence.  Not only does she not seem to mind, but she can also be seen observing them, as a certain voyeurism comes into play, where underneath it all she craves that same kind of attention. 

Shortly afterwards, Lila can be seen hanging out in her backyard with a younger neighbor boy, Nate (Case Prime), repeating to him Chiara’s sexual experiences as if they were her own, pretending to be more sexually active, as if this is the path to popularity and respect.  This schism between what’s imagined and what’s real seems to define what takes place inside a teenager’s head, where they always want things to be better than they are.  This obsession with sexuality follows Lila throughout the film, where she literally leads a double life, spending her time pretending to be something that she’s not.  Watching Chiara move from boy to boy with seeming ease, often rubbing her nose in it, while she continually watches from the sidelines only makes her feel worse, forced to wonder what’s wrong with her, where her self-esteem hits rock bottom.  Driven for her own emotional connection, she catches a glance on the beach from an older guy in a tanktop with a tattooed physique, where she overhears someone describe him as a skanky college guy horny enough to fuck anything that moves, a “douchebag who’ll sleep with anyone.”  The next day, Lila’s at the pool hall where Sammy (Ronen Rubinstein) works claiming she just happened to be in the neighborhood.  While she continually places herself in his path, which lends itself to a certain threat of danger, the viewer is familiar with any number of possibilities, not all of them good, as Sammy toys with her, but keeps his distance, while Lila is led to believe that having sex will reveal an ultimate truth and suddenly catapult her into friendships she otherwise doesn’t have.  While treading in dark territory, the film also has its lighter side, like Chiara’s 16th birthday party, which turns into a Bat Mitzvah-style candle-lighting ceremony featuring plenty of food and dancing, while a melancholic Lila sits alone, pretty much avoided by everybody else, which perfectly describes her life. 

Lila convinces Chiara to crash a drinking party at Sammy’s house and his macho friends, where the language of misogynist hip-hop music is blaring all around them, where it’s impossible not to be drowned out by the prevailing lyrics of incessant fucking.  Despite the fact this is an older crowd downing shots by the second, Lila is entranced by what she sees all around her, wandering through the rooms in slow motion, given an impressionistic feel, quickly becoming intoxicated herself, as Chiara leaves her heaving in the bathroom, spending much of the evening on the floor.  By the time she comes to her senses, she climbs into bed and switches places with someone who earlier slept with Sammy, pretending he slept with her when he wakes in the morning and that he was too drunk to notice.  This little scheme reveals the depth of depravity in this young woman’s soul, as her yearning to be touched and appreciated, to be part of “the world” around her overrides everything else, convincing herself that this alternate world is her reality.  When she tells Chiara that she’s finally sexually active, her friend insists upon making her an appointment for birth control, an examination that borders on the surreal.  When Lila returns to the scene of the crime, she is only humiliated even more by Sammy’s debase treatment, which is juxtaposed by a backdrop of ESPN sports playing in the background, making the deplorable experience even more banal.  As it finally sinks in that she’s fooling herself, or so it seems to the viewer, thoughts of suicide are everpresent, as her singular existence is all she can feel, finding herself more alone than ever, ultimately alienated even from herself, where her path feels desperate.  At such a dour moment, there’s an interesting cut to an up-tempo school dance quartet that bumps and grinds to explicitly foul rap lyrics, which is literally an assault of the F-word, where practices progress to performing before the public, where the graphic sexual rhythm couldn’t feel more out of place, but none more than Lila, who can’t keep up with the others and is always a bit out of synch.  The soft focus cinematography by Sean Porter creates an experimental mosaic, using plenty of close ups, where the anxiety of the camera matches the restless inner spirit, told almost subliminally, where the aesthetic is more about reaching what’s underneath the surface.  The film recalls German director Valeska Grisebach’s first feature BE MY STAR (2001), another film that associates teenage sexual attraction with an inability to communicate, where the films by both female directors (likely influenced by Claire Denis) emphasize textures, duplicating teenage isolation with a meticulous precision, becoming more about what isn’t shown onscreen, creating a mysterious ambiguity about the existing emptiness within and the pressures to want sex in order to finally be accepted.            

Blue Ruin

BLUE RUIN                B                     

USA  (92 mi)  2013  ‘Scope  d:  Jeremy Saulnier

Jeremy Saulnier was the superb cinematographer in Matthew Porterfield’s experimental films HAMILTON (2006) and Putty Hill (2010), while making his first feature MURDER PARTY (2007, which could easily be the title of this film as well), a kind of comic Halloween bloodbath, while still holding onto a career in advertising, creating product videos for Kraft Foods, IBM, Viacom, and the NHL.  This second film was the winner of the Director’s Fortnight FIPRESCI Award at Cannes 2013, a marked upgrade in critical acclaim, an ultra stylish revenge thriller made on the cheap, featuring the director’s childhood best friend as the lead actor and executive producer, Macon Blair as Dwight, a homeless man living in his rusted out blue Pontiac on the beach, where the opening sequence replicates Morris Engel’s often overlooked American indie film Little Fugitive (1953), where Dwight similarly hides out under protective cover at the local amusement park, also picking up disposable bottles left laying about and returning them to recycling centers for cash, where immediately we get the feel this is an eccentric and possibly creepy guy living on the fringes.  The cops pick him up not for anything he’s done, but to warn him that the convicted dual murderer of his mother and father is being released from jail soon, which sets a series of events in motion, such as an ominous visit to the local gun shop.  Saulnier does a good job playing with the audience’s expectations, always throwing them a bit off kilter, using plenty of odd humor throughout.  What this really comes down to is watching a geeky loner who has spent his life avoiding people, who barely talks to anyone, suddenly going after the Cleland family, savagely gruesome, grindhouse B-movie characters in the mold of Rob Zombie’s THE DEVIL’S REJECTS (2005), a film that took sadistic trailer trash and elevated it to an art form. 

The audience knows Dwight is in over his head, and every conceivable plan he comes up with goes haywire, but Saulnier amps up the suspense throughout, knowing full well that the audience can’t take their eyes off this foolhardy attempt to exact revenge for his family.  Why he feels the need to pull this off, we’ll never know, as this writer/director confidently leaves out plenty of back story, luring us right into the middle of the action, which at times is fast and fierce, while at other times there’s a lull between the storms, where like a cat, Dwight disappears and licks his wounds.  Acting against type, Dwight surprises us with is ingenuity, though it’s sheer damn luck that seems to get him out of situations, certainly not forethought, as most of the time he responds to pure kneejerk reactions, such as the moment of truth when he springs upon his prey like a man possessed, an unflinching moment of violence reminiscent of a similar moment in Jacques Audiard’s 2010 Top Ten Films of the Year: #10 A Prophet ....  Once he crosses the line, there’s no turning back, as neither he nor the audience have a clue what’s in store for him.  The things that catch his eye are often weirdly amusing, or just plain odd, but he has the good sense to rely upon the help of others, starting out with his sister Sam (Amy Hargreaves), who nearly busts his chops for reviving this blood feud, as she’s now with two children and a home, making her a convenient target.  From that point on, the film seems to take on a life of its own, as it’s Jamie Lee Curtis preparing to meet the bogeyman in HALLOWEEN (1978).  

Tracking down another friend is inspired by a scan through Dwight’s high school yearbook, where Devin Ratray as local war veteran Ben is the best thing in the picture, as he steals every scene he’s in.  Ben isn’t sure what to make of Dwight’s situation at all, and since he’s the one usually perceived as having a screw loose, Dwight must be in sick trouble, but he tries his best to help him out, only sensing what deep shit he must be in.  But Dwight, being who he is, continues to fuck up, but he’s a lovable loser who’s forced to turn into some kind of super sleuth and RAMBO-like warrior on the loose.  Vigilante justice is a genre unto itself, and this director seems to enjoy changing the rules of the game, shifting genres, and putting his lead character into ever more increasing danger, adding dark noirish elements throughout, anything to heighten the atmospheric mood.  The film is fraught with tension, but takes a predictable turn by the end, where the story simply runs out of options, though seeing Eve Plumb from The Brady Bunch (1969-74) as the redneck mama urging her boys to kill this son-of-a-bitch has a charm all its own.  It gets a little dicey, where family secrets are finally revealed, but this plays out like mafia families who vow revenge, refusing to back down under any circumstances, as if it’s a matter of honor.  Well, there’s little honor to speak of, and the moral grounds crossed by all participants keeps the audience guessing what will happen next.  It’s a taut thriller, dark and highly entertaining, continually atmospheric, well written and well directed, with a refreshing take on familiar themes.      

Pavilion

PAVILION                  C-                               

USA  (70 mi)  2012  d:  Tim Sutton                  Official site

If this film had not been screened in a movie theater charging tickets for admission and had instead had been viewed online, for instance, or behind the scenes as something recommended by a friend asking for input, I’d be hard pressed to come up with something all that original, as despite the length, my impression is that this is an extended product placement commercial for BMX mountain bikes (BMX bike), where the audio portion of the commercial, namely the selling points, had yet to be added, or were purposefully deleted, creating a more abstract effect.  Perhaps this was something to be played at a bike convention, running continuously on a large-sized wall as bikes were being showcased in a warehouse-sized, open-area main floor.  As a commercial, the film would be cutting edge as it doesn’t continuously display the product, but instead creates images of young kids as they occasionally appear in real life, getting together one on one, or in smaller groups, where riding bikes is the common denominator in their daily life activities, much like a car would be the focus of attention in a gathering of adults.  In this presentation, adults are all but absent, and the few that appear don’t stick around long, as kids spend as little time with them as possible.  Bikes allow the kids freedom and mobility, whether riding alone or in groups, as it becomes an extension of their personalities.  There’s a hierarchy attainable from BMX social status, as a few of the kids can easily perform various tricks on their bikes, and can constantly be seen practicing, elevating their skills, attaining a kind of cult status that separates them from other bike riders who simply travel from point A to point B, where their cool, disaffected manner can be viewed as sex appeal at this young pubescent age.    

Seeing the film in a theater, however, one has to alter one’s perceptions, as cinematically it stands outside most people’s comfort zones, as there’s little to no story to speak of.  While the film is reminiscent of Matthew Porterfield’s Baltimore films, HAMILTON (2006) and Putty Hill (2010), two minimalist, non-narrative mood pieces, the opening fireworks sequence is easily the best thing in the film, shooting off flares, holding sparklers, all illuminating an otherwise blackened night.  After that, a teenage boy Max moves from living with his mother in an exclusive, tree-lined suburb of upstate New York to living in a cramped hotel room with his father in a somewhat undeveloped suburb in Arizona where there’s plenty of empty space in the desert landscape.  Bored and without any real friends, Max drifts around, hanging out alone and in small gatherings with other kids.  An abstract portrait of aimless teenage kids, what the audience sees are conversations and friendships that never really develop or materialize, as the kids remain aloof and detached from one another, afraid to ever show their feelings or offer their friendship, so instead they just drift from day to day, occasionally connecting, more often not, where Max can often be seen just staring outside his hotel window.  While the film is distinguished by having such an indefinite shape, kind of a make of it what you will, it’s largely a mood piece without any dramatic thrust to it at all.  The point of the film is as ambiguous as the characters themselves, none of whom stand out, where some may be drawn to the colors and shapes that appear onscreen, the movement of the bikeriders or the skateboarders, or people hiking through the woods.  There is some awkward party footage of a drunken guy staple-gunning his face, or later electrocuting himself, egged on by a few other drunken misfits, but the overall impression is incredibly pathetic.  With no character really drawn to another, it suggests kids simply drift through their childhood in a kind of timeless state, mostly isolated and withdrawn from each other, even in one another’s company.  While the disinterested tone is unsentimentalized, resembling real life, without any real conflict there’s simply no drama to speak of, making it a chore to tag along with 70 minutes of teenage indifference.    

Putty Hill

PUTTY HILL                          B                     

USA  (85 mi)  2010 d:  Matthew Porterfield

This is what you might call spur-of-the-moment filmmaking, because as the filmmaker was set to begin filming one movie called METAL GODS, the financing from grants for that project fell through at the last minute.  But since a camera crew and a group of non-professional actors were ready to go, they instead shot this film on the fly from a hastily put together 5-page script, costing $20,000, shot on HD Cam in less than two weeks in Baltimore in August of 2009.  It’s taken nearly two years following a year on the festival circuit for this project to find the public, and even then, opens on very few screens.  Porterfield’s first film, HAMILTON (2006), ran just slightly over one hour and felt like a minimalist, non-narrative mood piece, a near wordless, slice of life mosaic that was interesting in the abstract, where the story was secondary to the rich construction of character and place, where the artful beauty was in lyrical observation.  Once more, offering few embellishments and only a scant narrative, this film offers a window into a lower-middle class fabric, feeling almost like eavesdropping, offering a rare authenticity into the world of the people inhabiting this neighborhood.  But in an unusual twist, the director himself from behind the camera asks random questions to kids on the street that have a connection to a young twenty-year old who recently died of an overdose, asking if they knew him, for how long, and if they’re going to the funeral service.  This is reminiscent of THE BIG CHILL (1983) or RETURN OF THE SEACAUCUS SEVEN (1979), but it’s a much more scattered approach, as many of the friends barely know one another, and are connected to only one small piece of the puzzle, while his neighbors may have known him his entire lifetime. 

This approach offers a broader range of social fabric, including kids coming in from out of town who fit right into their little cliques that they were a part of when they left.  Unlike the spoiled brat rich kids seen on TV shows or in Hollywood comedies, these kids lead more modest lives, where a large part of it is sitting around and doing nothing, feeling bored and alienated not only from the adults, but the world around them.  Many of their conversations together don’t really lead anywhere, as feeling disconnected and not having anything to say is what they’re used to.  The offscreen questions have a way of bringing people together by a common purpose, but the viewer never gets the impression this group is a cohesive whole, more like a collection of various parts, where the camera observes their behavior one piece at a time, like a finely observed character study.  There is an exquisite scene where a bunch of kids go swimming in the natural flora of a local creek, and another where the camera finds a lone soul at a bike and skate park, where the commonality of age and interest begins to represent a social strata, but more often than not we observe these characters one at a time as they interact with family or friends.  Unlike HAMILTON however, here it feels important to know the myriad of relationships, such as who’s related to the family of the deceased.  With many of the kids feeling like interchangeable parts, this gets lost in the maze, which is a troubling factor.  The film simply doesn’t provide much help in identifying the relevant players.  Instead, it prefers to mix them all together while insisting upon its own structural ambiguity, which doesn’t really work with a documentary style questioner.

Nonetheless, much like Portland indie director Gus van Sant, this film offers a unique portrait into adolescence just by allowing kids to be kids in their natural habitat.  The cluttered interior rooms where they hang out are especially insightful, having a much more anarchistic look of rage and alienation, offering few signs of the typical look of teenage conformity.  The young high school girls, however, all look like hippie chicks, where in that respect, this could just as easily be a West coast van Sant production.  Gone are the copycat mall reproductions, each kid an Abercrombie & Fitch assembly line copy of the next, including that mile-a-minute mode of Valley girl speech.  These kids speak naturally, even quietly, without the incessant use of cell phones and without forcing their opinions on others, where none of them seems to spew a political agenda.  But despite the window into youth culture, which certainly feels authentic, one wonders if that is enough, especially as it’s all leading to a funeral service which has a noticeably quicker editing scheme, where people are cut off abruptly, which doesn’t happen anywhere else in the film.  As a viewer, one might have preferred to keep the cameras rolling, continuing the theme of feeling like an observer at a real event, such as the rambling but unforgettable bar sequences with Gene Hackman doing a striptease from Jerry Schatzberg’s SCARECROW (1973) or Cassavetes’ classic imperfections in the roundtable bar tributes to the deceased from HUSBANDS (1970).  Instead, perhaps due to lack of time, this sequence feels hastily put together, where we’re only seeing the edited highlights, like a greatest hits montage.  Still, despite the quibbles, the film extols a natural sound design where cars passing and dogs barking are every bit as important as words getting lost in various conversations, where like Altman, the director can change the focus not just with the lens but with the use of sound.  The final sequence returns to an exquisite lyrical abstraction, a free-ranging experimental design of music and light that inventively goes out in style.