Introducing “Present Tense,” my column at Film Comment

So yes it’s been an eventful month. Nicolas Rapold, editor-in-chief at Film Comment, asked me to write a regular column for them. It is a huge honor. It’s going to be focused on … whatever I want to focus on, basically. I already have an editorial calendar set up for myself of stuff I’ve been wanting to write about. I am so thrilled Film Comment would want something like this from me!

The inaugural essay just went up, and it’s something I’ve been wanting to write for years: an essay on New York-School poet Frank O’Hara and his passionate love of the movies.

Present Tense: Frank O’Hara at the Movies

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April 2019 Viewing Diary

I have had an extremely challenging month. Things got slightly spooky. This looks INSANE when written out like this. And believe it or not, I was super busy this month. I wrote like 5 gigantic pieces, and somehow managed to do … this as well. And I promise I sleep 8 hours a night. Doctor’s orders. If you are not a Supernatural fan, you may find this extremely alienating. That’s okay. I haven’t seen Endgame and I don’t watch Game of Thrones, so now it’s my turn to dominate my own airwaves with … my God, look at this.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 11 “Scarecrow” (2006; d. Kim Manners)
I will do my best to not bitch about how the show de-railed itself in the last 2 years. I will keep focused on the GOOD. Re-watching Season 1 – it’s been a long while – was a wonderful way to re-discover the show, its underpinnings, its overall structure, and the strength of the set-up. I love how Meg just “appears” on the road in “Scarecrow” (back turned: it’s such a creepy image) and Sam doesn’t question it. He’s not like, “Where the hell did you come from?” Also, Manners is in fine form. The lighting is chilly and autumnal. Harvest-time. Literally. Here’s my re-cap.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 12 “Faith” (2006; d. Allan Kroeker)
One of the best episodes in the whole entire series. Plus: the only episode directed by Kroeker, which is astonishing, considering the look of the episode. You aren’t really an “auteur” in television directing, but there is something about those revival tent scenes that is unique, a vibe with the footage and how it was put together that was never seen again. So I’m giving Kroeker the credit. Here’s my re-cap.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 13 “Route 666” (2006; d. Paul Shapiro)
One word: TEAPOTS.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 15 “The Benders” (2006; d. Peter Ellis)
One of the Great Mysteries of our age is why on earth I didn’t like this one on first viewing. I try to imagine myself back into the dim reaches of the past to remember my initial reaction. I think I was like, “Why are they suddenly doing an episode of Criminal Minds?” In other words, I did not get it. I did not understand the disturbing connections being made about families and siblings. My bad. The episode is TRULY creepy, even creepier than some of the monster episodes, because we all know monsters aren’t real, but we all know that there are indeed Benders out there. Dean and Sam being truly freaked out by humans – in a way they are NOT freaked out by monsters – is also eloquent.

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960; d. Karel Reisz)
Watched this for a long-percolating – as in over-a-decade percolating – piece which I finally freakin’ wrote. I don’t know when it will be out but long-timers will go, “Jesus, FINALLY.” And Supernatural people will recognize it, since I’ve basically mentioned the piece’s theme constantly in my re-caps of the show, as well as in commentary in the comments about current episodes. I’m a broken record. This is a tough and gritty film, sparked with a kind of movement and propulsion and maybe even danger which makes post-war England look like it’s about to crack apart into a million pieces. New energy rising, chaotic, young. Albert Finney is sexy, vital, angry, and slightly … off. Or, you feel like he COULD go “off” if pressed too hard. The rooms are cramped, the pubs are full, the roads may be dead ends, but something else seems to be trying to burst through. The whole thing’s on Youtube, by the way.

Diane (2019; d. Kent Jones)
So far, this is on my Top 10 of the year. Directed by Kent Jones, famous critic and programmer at Film Society of Lincoln Center (speaking of the Gala I went to on Monday) – he wrote Diane about his mother, his aunts, all of the older and old women he knew growing up as a child. Starring Mary Kay Place, four little words I never thought I’d ever get to say, which I’ve been wanting to say since I first saw The Big Chill, really. She’s always been there, she’s always good. Here, she’s central. This is my kinda film.

Supernatural, Season 14, episode 17 “Game Night” (2019; d. John F. Showalter)
Welcome to the new Supernatural, where the story ISN’T about Sam and Dean. Oops. I said I wouldn’t do that. There’s just far too much going on in every single episode. Oops. I did it again.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 17 “Hell House” (2006; d. Chris Long)
Ghost Facers! Plus an excellent scene of Gross Things in Jars(TM).

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 18 “Something Wicked” (2006; d. Whitney Ransick)
I had almost forgotten how mournful, how deeply sad this episode is. Down to the final moment. The ache of what these two men experienced, AND how much Dean bore all by himself. Sam really had no idea. Or, he KNEW, but he can barely remember it. The monster-thingie is one of the most horrifying creations in the history of the series. It’s terrible when grownup Sam succumbs to that gaping mouth. Ugh. So upsetting. And then there’s:

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 19 “Provenance” (2006; d. Philip Sgriccia)
One of the things that most amazes me about “Provenance” is that Taylor Cole and Jared Padalecki EVER were able to complete a take. Every single moment of their time together I can now see – because of the out-takes – just how much these two actors are hanging on for dear life. The non-stop hysteria these two found together off-screen is … hot? There’s nothing worse though than hysterically laughing and then trying desperately to get it together to do a scene seriously. Also, forgive me but I can’t remember who said this – it was somewhere here – maybe in my “how I found Supernatural” post: someone said that this scene, with Dean saying “You’re both consenting adults” etc. – really struck her at the time, pulling her in deeper to the story and the relationship. I had the same experience. It was something new we hadn’t seen before. It was beautifully written, too, I think, with sensitivity to character and added depth, in general, to Sam’s ongoing grieving process. (I could live without “That’s muh boy” though.)

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 20 “Dead Man’s Blood” (2006; d. Tony Wharmby)
Jensen back-of-hand eye-rub, one of my favorites of his habitual gestures. It’s so childlike. Plus: VAMPIRES. In all their biker-gang glory.

Fosse Verdon, Season 1, episode 1 “Life Is a Cabaret” (2019; d. Thomas Kail)
I am really enjoying the series so far! A member of the O’Malley tribe did the set decoration, just FYI. I love the opening scene, which perfectly shows the nature of this important collaboration, how they worked together, how they had mind-melded their styles, what they wanted, how things should look.

Rukus (2018; d. Brett Hanover)
We gave Rukus the Hometowners prize at Indie Memphis (I wrote about it here). It was a unanimous decision. Brett Hanover is a phenom. A young director with a unique vision. I can’t wait until Rukus is available to be seen by others (coming soon).

Raging Bull (1980; d. Martin Scorsese)
Although De Niro’s weight gain has, unfortunately, become “the bar” to which all actors now aspire – something I’ve complained about often – it is an extraordinary performance, mainly because Jake La Motta has no real inner life. He is all impulse, animal instincts, predator-prey – there’s no thought, no self-reflection, no awareness. I had forgotten. I had forgotten just how deep he goes into his jealous paranoia, and how tenaciously he holds onto his suspicions, how he trashes his whole entire life because of it. Joe Pesci has never been better. It’s a gorgeous-looking film. It’s deeply depressing. You’re glad you never knew Jake La Motta. What a bore.

Wild Nights with Emily (2019; d. Madeleine Olnek)
I loved this movie so much. I reviewed for Ebert.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 21 “Salvation” (2006; d. Robert Singer)
Poor Meg.

Supernatural, Season 1, episode 22 “Devil’s Trap” (2006; d. Kim Manners)
The way John is – as Demon – is soooooooo nasty. I was completely shocked by this whole entire episode the first time I saw it.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 1 “In My Time of Dying” (2006; d. Kim Manners)
Jesus, Lord, look at his expression.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 2 “Everybody Loves a Clown” (2006; d. Philip Sgriccia)
The henley. Dear God in heaven, the henley.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 3 “Bloodlust” (2006; d. Robert Singer)
Iconic lens flare, as far as I’m concerned.

The Cult of JT Leroy (2014; d. Marjorie Sturm)
A fascinating documentary about how JT Leroy swept the nation (or, at least, credulous Hollywood). It’s also about how one journalist smelled a rat, and went against the zeitgeist to ask some tough questions, bringing the house of cards down revealing the hoax. Nobody likes to be duped. (See Oprah interrogating James Frey on her TV show after HIS “hoax” was revealed. My deal is though: ask yourself why you’re so in love with stories about other people’s trauma. Take some responsibility for your own credulity. #sorrynotsorry) Seeing the hushed-atmosphere of the JT Leroy readings, with celebrities reading excerpts (apparently because JT was far too shy and traumatized to subject himself to such a thing) is so through the looking glass.

Jeremiah Terminator LeRoy (2019; d. Justin Kelly)
Laura Dern and Kristen Stewart are wonderful in this story of the literary “hoax” or whatever you want to call it, which … you really had to be there to know what a huge deal it was. Laura Albert’s now being re-framed a bit, as someone who expressed the fluidity of gender long before it blah blah blah … and also her prescience about the use of “avatars” … now ubiquitous … but … I’m too cynical for that. The fluidity of gender is definitely one of the key aspects about this story, and about the supposed JT’s public appearances. Is he, is she, what, help, and etc. (But maybe because I’ve always run with a crowd – since high school – where gender norms weren’t really in play? like, at all? Butch, femme, drag queens, girls with mohawks and leather or girls wearing girlie Laura Ashley gowns, boys wearing tulle prom dresses, girls in motorcycle boots. Or vice versa. Whatever, I run with a show biz crowd, did then, still do, I grew up with punk and grunge and part of that whole time was to bust a lot of those assumptions. Kurt Cobain wearing a skirt and nail polish, to use just one example.) So. I think a lot of that “Laura Albert saw the future” stuff is hot air, and I’m sure she would be happy to hire you as her publicist if you think that way. What is far more interesting to me (and I’m not saying it’s the only thing to be interested in – obviously that’s not the case – but to ME what’s the most interesting …) is the con aspect of it, and the fantasy aspect of it, how this author hired someone to BE JT Leroy at functions … and how this person bamboozled all of these gaa celebrities … mainly because the story of “trauma” is so compelling, and also you’re not allowed to question it. You’re not allowed to say, “There’s something very fishy about your supposedly lived-experience.” Laura Albert’s later comments like “I had a bad childhood too, I grew up in a group home” show what she’s up to, what she was after. Trauma as entertainment, trauma as currency. Needless to say, this all is a topic which interests me greatly, and I love both Laura Dern and Kristen Stewart in this. You’re sympathetic to both characters, even though Laura is just … one of those people who sucks up the oxygen in a room. And Stewart is, as always, riveting, even when she’s just sitting there. It’s fascinating and I’m really glad it exists. I’d like to see it again.

Supernatural, Season 14, episode 18 “Absence” (2019; d. Nina Lopez-Corrado)
Okay. This is moving. But why all of these things are shown in flashback, as opposed to being established all along over the last 3 years, is … amateur hour. Seriously. This is not how you tell a story.

M (1931; d. Fritz Lang)
Another thing I re-watched in preparation for something I’m working on. This is a great film. Any serial-killer movie worth its salt imitates it. They may think they’re imitating something else, but all of the tropes are established here.

The American Meme (2018; d. Bert Marcus)
This is such a disturbing film I almost couldn’t make it all the way through. Allison made me stick it out, though. It’s so depressing. It makes me think that the Internet has literally ruined our world. We have transformed as a human race into something even more monstrous because of it. My God. These people. What we all do. I participate in it too. This documentary made me want to move to a lighthouse on a remote island where there is no internet.

The Inventor: Out for Blood in Silicon Valley (2019; d. Alex Gibney)
I cannot get enough about this famous baritone. I read the book, I watched the 20/20, I watched the Dateline, I watched Youtube clips, and then I watched this. There’s a JT Leroy aspect to people like this: total fabrication and people get swept away in the bubble, in their FOMO, in their WILLFUL closing-off of their critical thinking skills. I’m totally fascinated. Especially by her fake voice.

All About Nina (2018; d. Eva Vives)
Allison made me watch American Meme and I made her watch All About Nina. (I reviewed the film for Ebert. It’s on Netflix now. You should see it if you haven’t yet.)

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 4 “Children Shouldn’t Play With Dead Things” (2006; d. Kim Manners)
The Kim Manners look. It’s to die for. I winced at the setup though which I had forgotten: going to visit Mary’s grave. What they have done to Mary – and how she operates in the story – is unforgivable. I’ll get over it someday.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 5 “Simon Said” (2006; d. Tim Iacofano)
If they were doing this episode now – which they kind of did during the last season, with all the “wayward” eps – these other psychic kids would all be around 20 years old, with “issues” you can see from a mile away, but no sense of humanity. I love all the psychic kids (although I wasn’t crazy about the arc itself; I found it all a little too “wonder twin-y” at the time (and still do). But these people were all … weirdos, unique, SPECIFIC. They didn’t all LOOK alike, the way the Wayward sisters did (sooooo much makeup) … they also weren’t de-sexed, like the Wayward girls were, as though 18-19 year old girls have no hormones or sex drives. And who fight like ninjas, even with no training. Ugh. Boring. Not “empowering.” But Andy was a weirdo. Andy smoked pot and seduced half the town. Andy was great.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 6 “No Exit” (2006; d. Kim Manners)
I am unable to stop complaining. Forgive me. But I was made so aware, in a new way, of how much the show has fallen in interest, character development, humor. Jo! Jo wasn’t smeared with pancake makeup. Jo was allowed to be human, to WANT to be a hunter, but to be in over her head (in our current climate, that just won’t fly). I said on Twitter that I far prefer the vague sense of sexism in these former episodes – with Jo calling him on it – but Jo still needing a little help from these guys – because they, after all, are THE LEADS … to this new vibe of “let’s pacify all our woke Twitter fans” which is just tiresome and pandering. It ruined Mary. It’s close to ruining Jody. Let’s stop it RIGHT NOW.

Taxi Driver (1976; d. Martin Scorsese)
It never ever loses its power. It’s so disturbing.

American Gigolo (1980; d. Paul Schrader)
Such a chilly dissociated film, with a great performance from Gere in its center. Destabilizing to gender norms in a way which still feels radical. Bleak. Wonderful.

Purple Noon (1960; d. Rene Clement)
A re-watch for that thing I mentioned that I was working on. I got a little bogged down because it’s been a decade since it started bouncing around my head. Like I said, old-timers and Supernatural readers may guess what it’s about. Purple Noon is so decadent Eurotrash-y, with Delon at his chilly blank best.

The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999; d. Anthony Minghella)
Just to compare and contrast with the above.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 18 “Metafiction” (2014; d. Thomas J. Wright)
The opening sequence.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 23 “Do You Believe in Miracles” (2014; d. Thomas J. Wright)
Now THAT’S a finale.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 11 “There’s No Place Like Home” (2015; d. Philip Sgriccia)
A devastating final scene. I’m skipping around because of that, er, project I keep mentioning.

Supernatural, Season 12, episode 11 “Regarding Dean” (2017; d. John Badham)
Again, skipping around because of … you know. There is a theme emerging. The only good episode in Season 12, even though, of course, it had to include Rowena. Good thing they have the most Powerful Being in the Universe on speed dial to race in with some Abracadabra bullshit, as opposed to getting to see Sam figure it out on his own, like he used to do for 10 damn seasons before she showed up. Sorry. Ackles is superb here. I also love the small moment where the waitress gets horrified at herself that she had basically molested a person who had been roofied, and Dean smiles at her like, “No problem, I’m sure I had a blast.” Lol.

Waiting for the Miracle to Come (2019; d. Lian Lunson)
A gorgeous new film by a director I love, starring Willie Nelson and Charlotte Rampling. It’s now available on iTunes. I interviewed Lian about the film.

Fosse Verdon, Season 1, episode 2 “Who’s Got the Pain?” (2019; d. Thomas Kail)
We see how they met. How the sparks flew at that first “audition”/rehearsal. I think they’re both doing a superb job – in parTICular Michelle Williams. She’s (obviously) not the dancer Verdon was, but her entire characterization is very different for her, actress-y (which makes sense), with a kind of side-eye at things, a humorous “take” on the world – essential to understanding why Verdon was such an enormous star (and far bigger a star than he was when they hooked up).

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 7 “The Usual Suspects” (2006; d. Mike Rohl)
I like this episode more with each re-watch. It’s because we are suddenly outside of their POV and we see them as Linda Blair sees them. I love her murmuring “These guys …”

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 8 “Crossroad Blues” (2006; d. Steve Boyum)
Such an important episode for so many reasons. It introduces the concept of the crossroads demon. They will get a lot of mileage out of it. They will get Crowley out of it. Sam and Dean will both make bad deals. I love that they held this one back, they didn’t introduce it in Season 1 where it might get lost in the shuffle. No, they introduce it in Season 2 – early on – before Dean confesses what John whispered to him before dying. (Dean will confess it to Sam in the next episode.) And of course, Season 2 ends with Dean making his deal – which then leads us all the way through the glorious Season 3. So the crossroads are important and it’s placed very strategically. Also: Robert Johnson, ladies and gentlemen. Listen to his songs. It’s basically the premise of Supernatural.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 9 “Croatoan” (2006; d. Robert Singer)
I hadn’t watched this one in a long long time. It’s fantastic. Talk about a long arc. “Croatoan” is dropped in Season 2, and it returns in Season 4. They really knew what the hell they were doing back then. This, without a guarantee of being picked up again. They took a lot of risks.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 10 “Hunted” (2007; d. Rachel Talalay)
What I refer to as “The Glass Menagerie episode”, which, if you remember my re-cap, will make … sense?

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 11 “Playthings” (2007; d. Charles Beeson)
This moment. This, in general, is one of my favorite episodes in the whole thing. It’s perfect.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 12 “Nightshifter” (2007; d. Philip Sgriccia)
AGENT HENRIKSEN. I said recently that the real-life worries about Agent Henriksen and Dean’s murder rap in St. Louis generated more tension and anxiety in me than in Season 12 and 13 put together. Who’s ruling Hell? Who GIVES a shit! But AGENT HENRIKSEN? Nothing will stop that man and he is almost more of a threat to Sam and Dean than anything supernatural. Plus, he’s awesome. As is Ronald, and Sam and Dean’s differing reactions to Ronald. Subtlety, sensitivity to details, focus: this is what Supernatural used to do so well, even in a one-off character like Ronald.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 14 “Born Under a Bad Sign” (2007; d. J. Miller Tobin)
Kind of a weird episode but I really liked it because it “broke up” the brothers, and it fucked with Sam in a way I found EXTREMELY upsetting my first time watching it. It also made me realize that Jared Padalecki, in an alternate career, could have played ONLY psychos. He’s so good at it.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 15 “Tall Tales” (2007; d. Bradford May)
Classic episode of television.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 16 “Roadkill” (2007; d. Charles Beeson)
It’s been years since I’ve seen this one. I have to go back and look at my re-cap to see what I said. I forget. This one packs a huge punch. And the look of it – it’s almost totally monochromatic. Stunning. Plus the fact that they’re outside practically the whole time. There’s such a sadness here. I do remember saying that since we the audience are left in the dark, Sam and Dean don’t take us into their confidence (the way they do in other cases, where we know what’s happening and why) … we’re left to piece it together, and we’re placed in a position as vulnerable and confusing as hers. It works really really well and there’s some true feeling generated in this ep.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 17 “Heart” (2007; d. Kim Manners)
Member when the guys got to have sex and we got to see it sometime? No, but seriously folks: she is a fantastic actress, and it’s amazing how much they were able to get done in a mere 43 minutes. I mean, think of the journey from first shot to devastating final shot. It’s really masterfully done. Plus this:

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 18 “Hollywood Babylon” (2007; d. Philip Sgriccia)
“Oh, they’re aWARE …” One of my favorite lines in the whole damn show.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 19 “Folsom Prison Blues” (2007; d. Mike Rohl)
The one-two punch of “Hollywood Babylon” and “Folsom Prison Blues” is such a gorgeous entrenchment of Dean’s malleability and suggestibility – the words I use for him. Like, it’s great he can adapt to any situation but … people in CULTS can adapt to any situation. Should we be … worried about this tendency? (And then of course, seeing as what comes next in the lineup … it all beautifully makes sense. Season 2 is so well-constructed.)

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 20 “What Is and What Should Never Be” (2007; d. Eric Kripke)
Straight talk here: my relationship to this episode has been negatively impacted by what they did to Mary in bringing her back. I didn’t really get the damage that has been done, not really, until I went back and watched this episode. Its swoon of sadness, its sense of loss, of what happens when you lose a parent – especially young – of the PRICE Sam and Dean have paid for being “heroes” – none of this empty lip service where they actually seem to BUY the bullshit they’re spouting (as in the last 2 seasons) … it’s a fucking TRAGEDY, their lives. Great great episode but I truly mourn what has been done to this story. The damage has been retro-active and I’m pissed.

Supernatural, Season 2, episode 21 “All Hell Breaks Loose: Part 1” (2007; d. Robert Singer)
I’m glad they got rid of the psychic-kids arc. It’s like it never happened. They realized “huh, okay, this is not a show like other shows. This is a show about two brothers, keep it simple” and were able to course-correct. But I do love each one of these actors, they all bring something fresh to the table.

Supernatural, Season 14, episode 19 “Jack in the Box” (2019; d. Robert Singer)
I have so many mixed feelings. I have so many mixed feelings about “what’s going on with Jack” being the main arc, and how it has put Sam and Dean in the adversarial position. I just … this is not the show. And I hated the hunter’s funeral, but then again, I hated everything having to do with Mary. This, though? Dean crying by himself? Aces.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 2 “Devil May Care” (2013; d. Guy Norman Bee)
I decided to skip ahead and go from Season 9 to Season 11, which I have yet to do in a total chronological re-watch. Looking at this insane month it may seem like all I do is sit around and watch shit. I’m feeling slightly batshit looking at this month when it’s listed out. I had a couple of enormous writing gigs this month, along my other regular gigs at Ebert, a couple big ones that haven’t come out yet, and a couple other irons in the fire. It was a weird month though. I called up my friend David at one point and said, “You have got to come over. I haven’t spoken to anyone in 5 days.” Bless him, he did. He came bearing vodka. I have some shit I want to write about Season 9 of Supernatural because it struck me so hard again why it’s such a superb season. I have a soft spot for it because it’s when I started watching the show. So my perspective may be different than those watching in real-time from the jump. I think it is an extremely strong, albeit bleak, season – with real courage of its convictions. I am super impressed they even had the nerve to go there. They play it so safe now. Imagine having an entire season where Sam and Dean actually interrogate the tenets of their relationship? Imagine Sam digging his heels in and not just being concerned-dude-reading-a-book but a man who knows his own mind and has HAD it. I mean, it’s BOLD. These guys were in such a sweet spot in Season 9. Also, I love Gadreel. I love that actor.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 3 “I’m No Angel” (2013; d. Kevin Hooks)
It was hilarious watching this because – as I wrote in my TOME about how and when I started watching Supernatural – it was because of the Destiel crowd’s unhinged response to this episode. I had no idea what they were even TALKING about but I finally was like, “That’s it. Enough watching from the sidelines.” And then look at me, I got totally hooked too.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 4 “Slumber Party” (2013; d. Robert Singer)
I have been bitching about the bunker for 3 years straight now. I am sure you’re all sick of me. I’m sick of myself. But it’s wild to go back and remember the bunker when it was new, when Dean bustled around like a homebody, when Sam threw the piece of paper on Dean’s floor, all these interesting details having to do with the concept of HOME, which – of course – had been surging around in the series since the first season. Member what a landmine it is when they went back to their house with Missouri? And they crash at Bobby’s occasionally. The bunker was so new and so exciting. Member how much we all loved the bunker here? I believe one of us wanted to host a writing retreat there. Lol. Those days are done. Still: it was fun to go back and remember a time before my heart was filled with bitterness.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 5 “Dog Dean Afternoon” (2013; d. Tim Andrew)
Now, listen, it’s got some issues. Okay. But there are so many funny moments – yes, with the situation itself – Dean barking at the mailman, fetching the balled-up paper, etc., but it’s the small moments that make me howl. Sam: “Why are you yelling at the dog …about Styx?” I am laughing as I type this.

Carmine Street Guitars (2019; d. Ron Mann)
I reviewed this documentary about Carmine Street Guitars, a West Village staple, for Rogerebert.com.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 6 “Heaven Can’t Wait” (2013; d. Rob Spera)
There were some interesting ideas in here, about pain, and about angels who couldn’t distinguish between suicidal pain and angsty-teen pain. I have issues with Castiel when he is useless and feeling helpless or self-pitying. It became a “thing” around … when did it start happening? Post Leviathans. I far prefer the early Castiel, Season 4 and Season 5, when he is truly a strange being, and unpredictable, and you never doubt for a second that he could vaporize you into dust. Why on earth they demoted him to having recurring bouts of tuberculosis for 4 seasons on end, I will never know. I get that he has a passionate fan base, but … does his sickly self-pity coughing-up-a-lung arcs really satisfy them? I’d be pissed.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 7 “Bad Boys” (2013; d. Kevin Parks)
One of my favorite episodes in the whole series. Out of Season 9, this and “The Purge” are the ones I’ve watched the most. “Bad Boys” is definitely a go-to. God, it was such a revelation at the time. I LOVED where they went with it, I LOVED young Dean, but most of all I loved the feeling I got that there was still so much to learn about these characters!


Supernatural, Season 9, episode 8 “Rock and a Hard Place” (2013; d. John MacCarthy)
The main issue with this episode is why they cast all of those girls to look alike. That being said, it has a goofy X-rated charm that soothes at least THIS savage beast, and I challenge any actor to make that “the thing you did with the tacos” sound like the most romantic memory ever, and MEAN it. Seriously. What he pulls off in that scene is a miracle. This is why he is great. Also, his line reading of “He ain’t lyin'” at the chastity meaning makes me laugh out loud every single time I see it.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 9 “Holy Terror” (2013; d. Thomas J. Wright)
I had forgotten how mean Dean is to Kevin. Like, frustrated, impatient, downright rude. It’s pretty brutal to watch, and I think it’s a great choice. Dean is starting to lose it. He’s not in control of himself he’s so flipped out about Sam. He isn’t “mindful” in re: Kevin. “Yesterday, Cinderella”. I mean, it’s brutal. Dean fans don’t like when I criticize him. It’s so silly. This is a story with complex characters. I love the complexity. And it makes that much more excruciating when Kevin is killed.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 10 “Road Trip” (2014; d. Robert Singer)
Sometimes I watch this scene and I think, “What even IS this show …”

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 11 “First Born” (2014; d. John Badham)
Go, John Badham! This is an excellent episode. Crowley. I miss Crowley. Honest to Lucifer, I do.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 12 “Sharp Teeth” (2014; d. John F. Showalter)
An episode with an excruciatingly long monster-monologue at the end. Not the longest, but still, it’s up there. Nice final moment between Dean and Garth, with the hug and all. I don’t even remember the episodes now where Garth has returned in the last couple of years. “Look what they’ve done to my show, Ma …”

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 13 “The Purge” (2014; d. Philip Sgriccia)
This is one of my favorite episodes in the series, and the final scene is one of my favorite scenes. I know, I know, it sucks that Dean and Sam aren’t getting along, I hate it when they don’t get along, blah blah, go write some fanfic, seriously that’s what fanfic is FOR. I’m interested in CONFLICT which REVEALS, and this is such a great example. You could cut the tension between these two with a knife. Seeing Dean depressed – not angsty, not upset, not angry – but just … flat-line, hurting but expressionless, so so upset he doesn’t even know which end is up … You want to know why Jensen Ackles is so damn good? Well, there are many many reasons, but his ability to evoke depression – with its brief flashes of anger, so sharp it’s meant to hurt – Dean is literally totally out of control … I mean, here it is. This is why he gets the big bucks, this is WHY he is so good. Also Dean roofies himself, and that’s always entertaining.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 14 “Captives” (2014; d. Jerry Wanek)
Again, this episode is the show when it had courage. Kevin’s sappy advice to the guys … I have a feeling that sappy advice would be accompanied with swelling Winchester music now and no WAY would you have the quick cut to Sam already walking away. Brutal. I love Season 9.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 15 “#thinman” (2014; d. Jeannot Szwarc)
I remember not being crazy about this one when it first aired, as much as I love the Ghostfacers. I think it holds up very well, though. I like it a lot more now. Yes, it’s “on the nose” but that doesn’t seem as much of a problem in a binge-watch. It’s all blending into the same arc, about people who love each other and the lies they tell. That great scene when Dean starts reminiscing about Sam breaking his arm … it’s so AWKWARD and you just YEARN for them to take Kevin’s sappy advice, and yet … it’s so much better dramatically when they DON’T. Draw that shit out. Dean’s misery is like buzzing white noise that would probably be picked up by an EMF meter.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 16 “Blade Runners” (2014; d. Serge Ladouceur)
This is when I got excited about the First Blade. Look at him.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 17 “Mother’s Little Helper” (2014; d. Misha Collins)
Dean drinking by himself, and then going out on a secret date with Crowley. It’s begun. It’s full-on seduction mode, and Dean is already halfway there. I love Sam’s scenes with the former nun – Jenny O’Hara, who I think does an awesome job.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 19 “Alex Annie Alexis Ann” (2014; d. Stefan Pleszczynski)
This is as deeply sick as this show has ever gotten. Best of all: they make no explicit connections between Alex/Alexis/etc. and Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean don’t make the connection. Nobody does. It’s brilliant. It’s queasy-making, because it’s so clear to US and it’s not clear to THEM.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 20 “Bloodlines” (2014; d. Robert Singer)
Yes. I re-watched it. It now looks like … Oh, so this is the show Dabb wanted to make all along. Gorgeous nondescript envelope-thin characters, huge ensemble, sketched-in drama. Not the deep dive of two brothers played by brilliant actors – which he clearly has not been able to handle. Member watching this in real-time? I remember mainly being infuriated that the shape-shifters were suddenly magically able to change, without the gloopy sloughing-off of skin. This actor here though is good. He actually seemed to know how to act.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 21 “King of the Damned” (2014; d. P.J. Pesce)
I actually had forgotten a lot of this. This was hot.

Supernatural, Season 9, episode 22 “Stairway to Heaven” (2014; d. Guy Norman Bee)
I start to lose track of what’s going on here, mainly because I don’t have interest in Castiel becoming a Cult Leader, I have interest in Dean slowly succumbing to the Mark. Unfortunately, those things do dovetail. And in the process, Tessa the reaper is suddenly … wait, what? A rogue angel ready to blow up an entire community theatre production, killing a bunch of innocent people in the process? What the fuck happened? I loved Tessa.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 1 “Black” (2014; d. Robert Singer)
Dean as demonic karaoke-singing bar-fly. I remember all of us speculating here during the hiatus what was to come. Many of us were hoping for a jolly demon Dean. Well, we got it! I also love the damaged waitress – beautifully cast, and beautifully played. It’s a small role, but you really can see what’s going on. Crowley can too. And look out. Here comes COLE. COMMANDO COLE.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 2 “Reichenbach” (2014; d. Thomas J. Wright)
Oh, Cole. I actually thought it was pretty cool bringing in this completely random outsider who was looking for revenge. It was something we HADN’T seen, right? It was something NEW. Similar to Agent Hendriksen, it was a real world threat, and I found that fascinating. I couldn’t stand how he called them both by nicknames, but that was a “character” thing. It was how Cole – a small man – felt bigger. Dominant. It was quite insightful. I’m not in this thing to hang around with likable characters. However, the actor in question behaved like a douchebag at a convenion, and appears to be an all-around weirdo, so … bye bye Cole.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 3 “Soul Survivor” (2014; d. Jensen Ackles)
Let me say just one thing about this. Jensen Ackles knows what he looks like and knows how to highlight it. He took care with how he was framed here, and the lighting highlights his coloring, how pale he is, almost delicate-looking, with light eyes. Surrounding himself with blackness, and also wearing a red shirt … these were not accidents. I am mentioning this because he was the director. I love the self-awareness with which he treated himself – as an actor. This couldn’t have been easy, to wear two different hats with THIS episode.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 4 “Paper Moon” (2014; d. Jeannot Szwarc)
My memory of watching this in real-time is basically me going: “I wish Dean had been a demon longer. I don’t like the flashbacks to her life. Too many monologues.” Now, going back, I think I was out of my mind. It’s fun to compare/contrast. The episode has yet another set of siblings, one who has gone dark side, one who has to make the tough choice, etc. I wished Kate had looked grubbier. Her hair was too nice. She’s been living in barns. Come on. BUT. I think there are FOUR emotional conversations in the Impala? Like, the brothers literally cannot stop having dreamy lengthy emotional conversations in the Impala. I was in heaven watching this damn episode, especially since the Advent of the Bunker, and Season 12 without almost no brother-scenes in the Impala, and even now … it’s just not a part of the show anymore. Not really. Because, yeah, taking away the Impala scenes – EXPLICITLY REFERENCED in “Fan Fiction” – and in “French Mistake” – is super smart! I am just baffled. At any rate, I’ve experienced a turn-around on this episode. I love it now.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 5 “Fan Fiction” (2014; d. Philip Sgriccia)
This moment. Like “What Is and What Should Never Be”, though, its power is greatly diminished by what has been done to this family mythology in the last three years.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 6 “Ask Jeeves” (2014; d. John MacCarthy)
My love for this episode grows with each re-watching. It’s a go-to. It always works. It’s not often that you get cast as a one-off character and get to be part of an ensemble like THAT. I adore it. Clown College Colette. Flowers in the Attic. Dean’s beautiful “legs” moment in the empty hallway. Sam getting pawed on the couch. It’s all too much.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 7 “Girls, Girls, Girls” (2014; d. Robert Singer)
I have a maelstrom of memories about this not-very-good episode. One, the commercial aired, and a certain group of the fans flipped out because it was offensive, or rape culture-y or … I don’t know. It was a big shitshow, but nothing says “You’ll forgive me if I don’t take you seriously” if you’re commenting on something before it even airs. The whole set-up doesn’t really work, having Dean suddenly be on a dating App, and then, oh, whaddya know she’s a … prostitute (or “fancy lady”, speaking of which, same actress), and then Rowena gets involved, and uh-oh Rowena starts dominating her own story-lines. I was fine with her as foil for Crowley but now that I’m into Season 11 I’m realizing yet again the catastrophic effect this character has had on the show. I guess she has a fan base, though? I don’t get it. Why the hell keep her on? But most importantly: I had completely blocked out this scene in the Gif. What. The. Ever-loving. FUCK were they thinking? What were they even GOING for? Someone please help me understand. I was literally cringing into the corner of my couch with embarrassment watching it.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 8 “Hibbing 911” (2014; d. Tim Andrew)
A favorite of mine. “Jodio!” Plus this whole sexually charged relationship.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 9 “The Things We Left Behind” (2014; d. Guy Norman Bee)
Lots going on here. Castiel stepping in to take care of Claire. A pretty sick and twisted situation in that house with “Randy.” GROSS. And the look on Dean’s face after he slaughters five people. This was when not killing humans still mattered, before they started engaging in shootouts with other human beings on a regular basis in Season 12. I seem to recall some of the Destiel Tumblrs I frequented flipping out about the curtains in the restaurant forming a “ship” behind Dean and Castiel. Just reporting the news. You decide.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 10 “The Hunter Games ” (2014; d. John Badham)
The Claire arc doesn’t … quite work. I have no idea what was going on but I think sometimes they are desperate to give Castiel something to do, something where he’s not in every episode. I feel that later on in 11 with Metatron, and then much later with Lucifer. Castiel is a problem. He wasn’t to start with. Or, he came with problems attached (we have to be careful about how much we use him, since he’s so powerful). But having Castiel be in this ABC Afterschool Special type situation with a rebellious teen? I don’t know. It’s pretty weak. However: the episode does include this stunner. You may recognize a pattern in this monthly viewing diary.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 12 “About a Boy” (2015; d. Serge Ladouceur)
This kid just NAILS it. I love this episode.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 13 “Halt & Catch Fire” (2015; d. John F. Showalter)
Dean horn-dogging all over the college girls made me feel like it was the good old days. It’s funny, it’s like Supernatural all of a suddenly decided to deal with social media. “I just Liked what you posted.” “I just Liked what you posted.” “Selfie!” and etc. Also: Dean’s on Facebook, poking people? Sam already knows how to poke people on Facebook? Why can I not picture this? Is this a harbinger of the dreaded Words With Friends, which ruined my life in 2 seasons?

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 14 “The Executioner’s Song” (2015; d. Philip Sgriccia)
This is getting insanely long. Okay, real quick: The show has an issue with … fist fights. Two angels meet. Fist fights. A demon and a human meet. Fist fight. They can’t seem to get themselves out of that trap. So you knew that when Dean went to go battle Cain, it was going to be yet another fist fight. HOWEVER. The way Jensen Ackles played it – and the way Timothy Omundson played it – gave it a weightiness, a depth, a darkness, where it was truly believable that Dean would come out of it forever altered. Something was happening to him besides getting punched and thrown around. Yes, a couple of music cues helped, but trust me: the effect of Dean being destroyed emotionally, stripped bare, is all Ackles. Hard to do, man. It’s not just another fist fight.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 15 “The Things They Carried” (2015; d. John Badham)
Well, isn’t Dean a tall glass of water. No. He really is. Maybe one of the most explicit homoerotic things they’ve ever done – that horrifying desert woman going mouth to mouth – I never ever need to see that again. Thank God it didn’t come out … the other way, ya know what I’m saying. And Cole drooling at the sight of Dean’s … water. I know fans hated Cole and I know knowledge of what he did at cons taints him forever – but if I hadn’t known any of that stuff, and I actually didn’t know much of it- by design – this is a pretty interesting arc. Because in the real world, Cole is the toughtest (albeit shortest) guy in any room. He is clearly a Macho Man, and clearly is the Platonic Ideal of “overcompensation.” It’s written that way. Just as Dean never really developed past the age of 4 – Cole never really developed past the age of 10. These two would never be friends, clearly – two alpha dogs don’t mix – but that’s why it’s interesting. It’s interesting to see a character who doesn’t immediately bow down to the Winchester’s greater expertise. Who isn’t submissive to them. Like Agent Henriksen. Like the dreaded Amelia, whom I love – for the very reasons I’m saying here. These characters are revealed through CONFLICT, not just sitting around sharing feelings. When someone comes into their circle who doesn’t play by their rules – think of Bela, think of Garth – it’s fantastic, sparks fly. Imagine the stink in that smokehouse cabin. Naaaaaasty.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 17 “Inside Man” (2015; d. Rashaad Ernesto Green)
The whole conversation about French movies and film criticism cracks me up.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 18 “Book of the Damned” (2015; d. P.J. Pesce)
And now I’m starting to get angry.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 19 “The Werther Project” (2015; d. Stefan Pleszczynski)
BENNY.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 20 “Angel Heart” (2015; d. Steve Boyum)
This is the only scene that matters.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 21 “Dark Dynasty” (2015; d. Robert Singer)
Nope. Also, I hate that family. It’s supposed to be “Stein” as in “Frankenstein” but it’s a little too close to an anti-Semitic stereotype for my taste (I would guess they threw in “they helped the Nazis get to power” just to stave off criticisms like this). But still. I’m pissed about Charlie still. I blame Rowena. And Castiel who couldn’t handle the situation even though he’s so powerful he can literally yank a human from out of the depths of hell. And they suddenly make Charlie dumb enough to sit in front of an open window at the motel? No cover? Even though she knows she’s being tracked? Nope.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 22 “The Prisoner” (2015; d. Thomas J. Wright)
This is a good scene. I’d be pissed at Castiel too. He was a babysitter who failed and someone got killed.

Supernatural, Season 10, episode 23 “Brother’s Keeper” (2015; d. Philip Sgriccia)
This moment.

Ask Dr. Ruth (2019; d. Ryan White)
New documentary. I am reviewing for Ebert.

Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile (2019; d. Joe Berlinger)
New Netflix movie about Ted Bundy, starring Zac Efron. I am reviewing for Ebert.

The Red Line Season 1, episode 1 and 2 (2019; d. Victoria Mahoney, Kevin Hooks)
A new series on CBS, starring Noah Wylie. It takes place in Chicago. It is based on a play by Caitlin Parrish and Erica Weiss, and it is executive produced by Ava DuVernay. But most importantly, my dear friend Mitchell Fain is in it. He plays one of Noah Wylie’s best friends. He’s only been in one scene so far, at a big gala fund raiser for Noah’s husband, who was killed by a cop. As Noah makes this tear-filled speech (and Wylie is phenomenal), there’s a shot of Mitchell, listening to him, and his heart is in his face, his care for his hurting friend in his face, and I basically burst into tears with pride. Go, Mitchell!

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R.I.P. John Singleton

What a tremendous loss. He was only 51 years old. He was the first African-American to be nominated for a Best Director Oscar for Boyz n the Hood. He is also, to date, the youngest person to ever be nominated Best Director. He was only 23 years old. Astonishing.

My friend Odie Henderson’s emotional tribute over on Rogerebert.com is the one to read. Odie was the man for the job. Please go read his piece: John Singleton 1968-2019.

The contributors at Ebert also put together a tribute post, where each one us shared our thoughts about this singular artist, and what his work meant to us. I wrote about one small scene in Boyz n the Hood, which has stayed with me all these years. Breaking Barriers: Goodbye to John Singleton.

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May-June 2019 Film Comment: on Joanna Hogg’s The Souvenir

It was such a pleasure writing about Joanna Hogg’s latest film The Souvenir for Film Comment (I hadn’t realized it would be the cover story! I’m thrilled, not just for myself, but for the film, which I hope everyone sees). My feature essay is also online, so do check it out: On Joanna Hogg’s The Souvenir.

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Stuff I’ve Been Reading

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. Here are some of the things I’ve read recently – or am in the process of reading.

— I love Imogen Sara Smith’s writing, and I’m not just saying that because I know her. I look forward to everything she writes. Her latest for Film Comment is an insightful review of The White Crow (directed by Ralph Fiennes). I haven’t seen the film yet but now I am very much looking forward to it. It’s about Rudolf Nureyev’s defection from Russia, while performing with the Kirov in Paris. Imogen also reviews a documentary from last year about Nureyev, which I now have to catch up with. I love how she loops in a critique of biopics and their normal failings (I agree with her completely), as well as her critique of how dance scenes are filmed nowadays, with all those frustrating quick cuts. At any rate, it’s a wonderful piece, putting two films on my radar which weren’t there before. Ghost Dance: The White Crow and Nureyev

— I have had David Foster Wallace’s gigantic tome, Infinite Jest, on my shelf for literally years. I haven’t cracked it until now. I “came to” David Foster Wallace through his journalism, much of which I read as it came out, in real time (in Premiere, and other places). His “diary” of visiting the set of David Lynch’s Lost Highway is, in my opinion, one of the greatest pieces of film criticism ever written. I go back to it again and again, especially if I’m feeling “stuck.” It helps me get un-stuck. If you haven’t read it, all I can say is … DO YOURSELF A FAVOR AND READ IT IMMEDIATELY. So I have always loved his journalism, but never really thrilled to his short fiction. Just not my thing. However, Infinite Jest has always been a horse of a different color. Like many other great TOMES of literature, I keep them on a list in my head, as “stuff I must read one day.” I am well-read, obviously, but it’s important to remember that I was not an English major, I did not study literature, I have no background in academic reading. My love of books came from my parents, and then I had a couple of great English teachers in high school. That’s it. Outside of the “canon” books I read in high school (Catcher, Moby Dick, Wuthering Heights, The Scarlet Letter), any other book I’ve read since then has been because of my own self-imposed ever-expanding reading list. For example: Russian literature. I caught up with that all on my own. You could call me an iconoclast. So Infinite Jest sat on the shelf. And finally, about 5 months ago, I started it. It’s so highly absorbing I can only do a couple pages at a time. I had somehow managed to avoid all critique of it, so I am coming to it fresh (or at least sort of fresh: I recognize his style and love his style from his journalism and his personal-ish essays, like “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again” and other classics). I knew it was about tennis and AA. Because that makes sense. But other than that: tabula rasa. There are sections I love so much I am laughing out loud, not because they are funny but because of his pure AUDACITY. (Like the lengthy “catalog” in the footnotes of James Incandenza’s entire filmography. It is completely dazzling.) His long section on what AA is like, what Boston AA is like in particular, is a masterpiece. I’m not an alcoholic, although I’ve been to a couple of AA meetings with friends in recovery, and so their commentary on AA is my only real context. The long section on the made-up tennis-war-game Eschaton is one of the funniest things I’ve ever read and it goes on for 20 pages. It gets funnier and funnier with each accumulating detail. I am so glad I’m finally reading it, even though it’s taking me forever.

— God, how I love Dan Callahan’s essay on Jack Benny in Ernst Lubitsch’s To Be or Not to Be, a film that has to be seen to be believed. How does Lubitsch pull it off?? You’ll have to read the piece to grok what I’m talking about. Callahan gives good context for Jack Benny, and why his role here is so surprising and effective. Love in Bloom: Jack Benny in To Be or Not to Be

— The fact that a book about grammar and spelling is on the New York Times Bestseller List gives me hope for humanity. Benjamin Dreyer is the copyediting chief at Random House. I follow him on Twitter. And he follows me, but that’s neither here nor there. He has one of the most entertaining Twitter feeds around. His book, Dreyer’s English: An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style, was published a couple of months ago. I had read an excerpt somewhere and it was so compulsively readable I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a copy. This is an indispensable book for writers, although regular people – not just “grammar Nazis” (ugh, terrible terrible phrase) – will enjoy it too. Clarity in writing is more important than ever now. This is even more true since newspapers/magazines have been laying off their copyediting desks en masse.

— Another piece by Imogen Sara Smith, this time for Criterion. She writes about Harry Dean Morgan’s performance in Frank Borzage’s haunting film Moonrise (I saw it MoMA last year: it’s very difficult to see, so when it was screened there I made sure to go). Morgan is mostly known for playing Colonel Potter on M*A*S*H, of course, but his career goes way back and is a perfect example of what it means to be a good and reliable character actor (the bread-and-butter of the industry, as I’ve often said). Morgan is so touching in Moonrise. If you have TCM, keep your eyes peeled for a screening of this one. Here’s Imogen on Morgan’s performance: Least Wanted—Film Noir’s Character Actors: Harry Morgan

— Anna Burns’ novel Milkman: A Novel won the Man Booker Prize in 2018, and rightly so. It’s one of the best political novels I’ve ever read. This continues my theme that women are kicking male writers’ asses in taking on Important Topics right now. Think of Hilary Mantel, and her Thomas Cromwell trilogy (still waiting on the third installment!). There isn’t a male novelist right now who can top what Mantel is doing. Or Rachel Kushner’s astonishing novel The Flamethrowers, about … so many things, but also about political upheaval and the rise of homegrown terrorist groups in Italy in the 1970s. I only frame it this way because I get very frustrated in the narrative of “men write about politics and Important Things” and “women write novels about romance and domestic life”. I mean, maybe there’s some truth in that cliche? And I love books about love too. But someone like Don De Lillo has never accomplished what Mantel has accomplished. And I get frustrated on how he is perceived as this important pontificator. He WISHES he has written something as urgently relevant as Stephen King’s 11/22/63. (Yes, King is a man, but still: that’s the book Don De Lillo has been TRYING to write for 30 years. Sorry, I know De Lillo is adored. I am not part of his fan club, though, except for the first 52 pages of Underworld, which I think is his masterpiece. But that’s it.) Much of Milkman‘s power is in its first-person narration. The voice is distinct. You’ve never heard a voice like it. Trust me. Or … don’t trust me. Just read the book. Without ever mentioning Belfast, this is one of the greatest books about The Troubles ever written. The situation in Northern Ireland can be so confusing for an outsider. I am aware of all of the subtleties because … well, I’m Irish and I grew up in a household where these things were talked about constantly, and we would light candles in church for Bobby Sands, back in the day. (I was in Ireland as a child during the hunger strikes. I absorbed the fear of that time through family osmosis. We were very very aware of what was going on. And clearly I’m biased. Welcome to the freakin’ club. I also have good friends who live in Belfast, one of whom is ex-IRA, and spent 18 years in prison, and is now a dissident republican. When I visited my friends in Belfast, he took us to Bobby Sands’ grave, in that hugely politicized cemetery, an extraordinary experience. I linked to Anthony’s stuff recently in my post about Lyra McKee, who was just shot and killed at a riot in Derry.) But what Anna Burns does is give a feeling of the atmosphere of total paranoia, of rigid ideological thinking, particularly in the “republican” side of the conflict. But remember: she never says Ireland, or IRA, or Belfast or Derry. She never names anything. In so doing, she helps universalize this conflict. It reads like a bat out of hell, too. I TORE through it. I couldn’t put it down. Hats off.

— Second from Dan Callahan: I was so pleased to see he had written about Theresa Russell in Bad Timing. I had just immersed myself in Nicolas Roeg’s work for the tribute piece I wrote for Film Comment and part of the pleasure in that project was digging into Theresa Russell’s extraordinary gift as an actress. She’s wild. She’s in the realm of Gena Rowlands, Anna Magnani, Bibi Andersson – actresses who LIVE on the razor’s edge. If you have not seen Bad Timing (Dan’s piece is about that film), you really MUST. Dan is one of our greatest analyzers of acting and performance, and here, he turns his gaze onto Russell. Not to be missed: Too Close for Comfort: Theresa Russell in Bad Timing

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50th Anniversary Gala of the Film Society at Lincoln Center

The Film Society at Lincoln Center had its 50th Anniversary Gala on Monday night at Alice Tully Hall, and I was invited because of my involvement with writing for Film Comment (the house magazine of the Film Society, now re-named Film at Lincoln Center). The New York Film Festival is hosted by the Film Society every year, and as a festival it stands out (and has done so from the jump): it’s not a competition, there are no prizes, it’s not an industry-rush, it’s not about getting the next Shiny New Thing (as Sundance has become). It’s a festival showing films carefully chosen by the Film Society representing the best in international (and national) film. And so there’s an “art for art’s sake” feeling to the NYFF that is unmistakable. It’s an essential contribution to cinema – and NECESSARY, especially as “cinema” gets more and more corporatized, as superhero-franchises dominate the multiplexes, as smaller films vanish from the screen. I saw Melancholia at the NYFF. I saw Jafar Panahi’s This Is Not a Film at NYFF. I saw Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation at the NYFF. I am pleased to have even a small part in this organization, writing for a magazine Martin Scorsese called at the Gala “indispensable.”

The line-up of speakers all had personal connections with Film at Lincoln Center, and their speeches were broken up by a beautiful ongoing documentary about the history of the organization through the years, since its inception. Interviews with board members, with Kent Jones, with people I know from Film Comment.


Left to right: Michael Moore, John Waters, Tilda Swinton, Paul Dano, Zoe Kazan, Pedro Almodóvar, Dee Rees, and Martin Scorsese

John Waters gave the speech of the night which involved the words “and he took the pig … and then he fucked it …” First time for Alice Tully Hall? He opened his speech saying, “Thank you Film Society for 50 years of feel-bad films.” Hilarious, in the middle of a mostly reverent night. He spoke in a sarcastic voice, and yet his long-running relationship with Film Society – both as a filmmaker and sometimes curator – shone through. He looked fabulous, too.

Tilda Swinton’s speech was incredible, all about beacons and lighthouses, and darkness and light. Her wording was so specific and unexpected (she’s an amazing writer). Small dovetail: I wrote about Joanna Hogg’s new film The Souvenir for the May-June issue of Film Comment (out today). The film stars Honor Swinton Byrne (Tilda Swinton’s daughter), and Tilda is also in it. Joanna Hogg and Tilda Swinton started out together in the mid-80s (Tilda starred Caprice, Hogg’s thesis film for grad school in 1986.) So I had a couple of weird wonderful moments of feeling a PART of this whole thing – not just a spectator at the Gala.

Paul Dano and Zoe Kazan, whose beautiful film Wild Life played at NYFF, spoke together, about their history with the place. I loved Kazan’s memory of her childhood, with her parents showing her Pre-Code movies on VHS, and pausing it to point out editing choices, and then rewinding it so Zoe could watch the moment again). Because of course Elia Kazan’s granddaughter would have such an upbringing.

It was great to see Pedro Almodóvar, whose history with the NYFF goes way way back. Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown was not really taken seriously “because it is a comedy” (Ugh, this attitude drives me insane) and yet NYFF chose it for the festival. These are the moments that change artists’ lives. I remember going to see that film in a little arthouse joint in Philadelphia, and I was absolutely blown away. I had never seen anything like it.

Martin Scorsese closed out the night. He remembered the triumphant moment when Mean Streets opened at NYFF, and the audience had gone totally berserk. He was there with his parents, neither of whom had seen the film before (even though his mother plays a tiny role in it). Scorsese’s parents were both shocked by the film, its violence and nudity and Catholic iconography, the whole thing. Scorsese said he looked at his father during the lengthy ovation, and he said his dad’s face was “ashen.” The three of them came out into the lobby into a madhouse of press. One reporter asked Mrs. Scorsese what she thought and she replied, “We don’t use THAT WORD at home. He didn’t learn it THERE.” But he went on to discuss all of the ways he was involved with the Film Society, and what it really meant, particularly in 1970s New York, a pretty grim time in the life of the city.


Martin Scorsese

I was happy and proud to be there. I even curled my hair. Here’s to more than 50 more years. We need places like Film at Lincoln Center more than ever now.

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50 Best Albums, by Brendan O’Malley, #37. They Might Be Giants, No!

My talented brother Brendan O’Malley is an amazing writer and actor. He’s wonderful in the recent You & Me, directed by Alexander Baack. (I interviewed Baack about the film here.) His most recent gig was story editor/writer on the hit series Survivor’s Remorse. Brendan hasn’t blogged in years, but the “content” (dreaded word) is so good I asked if I could import some of it to my blog. He did series on books he loved, and albums he loved. I thought it would be fun to put up some of the stuff here. So we’ll start with his list of 50 Best Albums. I’ll put up one every Monday.

Brendan’s list of 50 Best Albums is part music-critique and part memoir and part cultural snapshot.

I have always loved these essays, because I love to hear my brother talk. I am happy to share them with you!

50 Best Albums, by Brendan O’Malley

37. They Might Be Giants – No!

This is my favorite They Might Be Giants album and not just because John Linnell was working on it while renting out my ex-wife’s basement in the condo I barely lived in but bought with her.

Late ’90’s Brooklyn. Prospect Park is quickly becoming Baby Central and I am helping it along. My son is almost two and the light of my life. Which is dark otherwise.

We’d signed the papers on the condo simultaneously discussing divorce. When we were getting ready to move in, I packed my things separately and almost got my own place. After a few fitful unhappy months in the condo, I got a basement apartment right around the corner and started the new deal.

Her family are notorious for buying property and then completely redoing it. This first floor brownstone had a gigantic unfinished basement which her brother, father, and mother transformed into a nicely lit railroad apartment, only with no kitchen or shower.

She put out a hand-written cardboard sign on her front stoop advertising a studio for rent for an artist. I was skeptical. When I am skeptical of her, she is usually right. And vice versa. Which is why we are much better off divorced. A mere 15 minutes later a nice guy stopped by and inquired after the space. It was John Linnell.

He lived in the building next door and needed a work space. He was installed within a week and the lovely sounds of They Might Be Giants and John Linnell would often waft up into the kitchen as I made my son a PBJ while waiting for his mom to get back from work. Then I’d trudge over to my own basement and record some strange concoction of my own.

The songs on No! are right for kids because they seem as if they were written by kids. Most kids’ music is heinous, almost like religious music that is only intended for the choir. The makers of most kid music seem to think that if they sing really slow and over-enunciate then kids will fall all over themselves with enjoyment. I’ve rarely found this to be the case.

No! is scary at times. It is angry. It is confused. It is hilarious. It is sad. In other words, No! sounds like what it FEELS like to be a kid.

— Brendan O’Malley

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Visiting “The Beautiful Place”: An Interview with Lian Lunson, director of Waiting for the Miracle to Come (2019)

“If only our parents were born at the same moment we were. How much heartache would be spared. But parents and children can go only go after each other, not with each other. And the distance always lies between us, which nothing but love can change.” – Waiting for the Miracle to Come

Director and producer Lian Lunson has made a number of piercing and poignant documentaries/concert films featuring legendary singer-songwriters, like Willie Nelson: Down Time (1997), Leonard Cohen I’m Your Man (2005), and the gorgeous concert film Sing Me the Songs That Say I Love You: A Concert for Kate McGarrigle (2012), where Lunson filmed the tribute concert for Kate McGarrigle at Town Hall in New York, hosted by McGarrigle’s children, Rufus and Martha Wainwright. (I wrote about Sing Me the Songs for my site.) Lunson’s style is meditative and dreamy, passionate and gentle. She allows space for the audience to enter into the music, the words, the experience. Lian has just directed her first feature film, Waiting for the Miracle to Come, starring Willie Nelson and Charlotte Rampling, to be released on April 29th (which also happens to be Nelson’s 86th birthday). Lunson’s connection to Nelson goes back decades (her 1997 documentary was her first directing job). Waiting for the Miracle to Come was filmed on Willie Nelson’s ranch in Texas, a place steeped in history, his and ours. The film, too, is soaked in that history. You can feel it in every frame.

Waiting for the Miracle to Come is a dream-like story, literally sprinkled with gold dust, shimmering across the screen. A young woman named Adeline (Sophie Lowe) follows the instructions in a letter from her dead father to go to a town called Ransom and find The Beautiful Place. The Beautiful Place is a “museum” in the middle of nowhere, a small oasis where a pink house and a little blue trailer sit, twined around with Christmas lights. Off to the side is a small barn which has been transformed into an old-timey “dance hall.” A neon WELCOME sign perches on the roof. Living there are Jimmy (Willie Nelson) and Dixie (Charlotte Rampling) Webb, who take in horses, welcome people who show up wanting to look around (as they do to Adeline) and who appear to exist in a state of tense waiting, staring down the dusty drive for someone they long to see again. Dixie lives her life as Marilyn Monroe, giving occasional performances in the dance hall, where people drive in from all over to see the show.

Like Alice in Wonderland, Adeline steps through the iron gates into The Beautiful Place, a world where time has stood still, where Jimmy and Dixie wait. Adeline doesn’t know why her father sent her to this place. Jimmy and Dixie both say they don’t recognize her father’s name. Waiting for the Miracle to Come casts a spell, where you feel like you have stepped through the Beautiful Place gates into a space where past and present co-exist, where the barrier between life and death is porous. For some people, like Adeline’s anguished mother Betty (Sile Birmingham), pain is ruinous, contracting all possibility. For Jimmy and Dixie, pain has resulted in total stasis: they are afraid to move forward because only by standing still in the same spot will their “miracle” happen. They look at the gleaming-eyed Adeline, who shows up out of nowhere, with wonder.

Lunson, as a director, is drawn to lights. Every frame glimmers and twinkles. She’s sensitive to the way air moves, lifting hair up, ruffling bird feathers. There’s space in her work. There’s breath. When gold dust shimmers across the screen, you step into the dream with Adeline, with the audience at Dixie’s show, with the onlookers watching Adeline soar by on the trapeze in the air. Dreams can have more reality than reality. Dreams can literally keep us going. Dixie dresses up like Marilyn Monroe because in so doing she enters a dream of light, a dream of being someone else.

Comfort like this is not to be mocked. Tennessee Williams’ heroines understand this well, clinging to their “illusions”, insisting the world can still be beautiful, even with all its pain, unfairness, and cruelty. Such people are called delusional, silly, childish – then and now. Waiting for the Miracle to Come is extremely delicate material, and Lunson proceeds with the perfect touch. There’s a sweetness here, but it’s sweetness pierced by loss, compromise, suffering. When Adeline climbs the ladder to the trapeze, her hair whipping in the night wind, her torso wrapped with a string of blinking white Chirstmas lights, she is a figure from a fairy-tale, a myth, a legend … filled with power, touched by grace.

There’s magic in Waiting for the Miracle to Come. Not manufactured magic, not trite magic. But the real deal.

It’s in Charlotte Rampling’s eyes, deep pools of torment gleaming over her gracious smile. It’s in Willie Nelson’s eyes, too, big and haunted, just like Rampling’s, big sad eyes sparked with hard-won humor and kindness. The magic is in Sophie Lowe, too, standing between these two icons, vibrating with openness to them, alert with natural curiosity. The magic comes from Lian Lunson’s sensibility and her ability to translate it to the screen, her care with the details, her love for these characters.

I’ve been a fan of Lian’s work for a long time. She came into my personal orbit through my writing on Elvis. She is the biggest Elvis fan I know, so her support of what I was trying to do and say in my Elvis essays meant a whole lot!

It was a great pleasure to talk with Lian about Waiting for the Miracle to Come.

Your film is like going into a dream. There’s something very magical about it but at the same time it is very very grounded. The way dreams can be. I want to ask you about the genesis of this project, but first, could you talk a little bit about the dream-like quality?

I think that when you’re dealing with subjects that are difficult, it’s easier to do so through a fantasy dream-like world. There’s a lot of Me in this film. My father left when I was 2. I didn’t contact him until I was an adult. There is such a terrible terrible fear, like “What if he says no to me? What if he rejects me?” It’s paralyzing. When I used to fantasize about my father, when I wondered what he was like and where he was, it was always in a beautiful place. And so The Beautiful Place in the film is that place when you dream about something that you want. When we dream about something we want, it’s always beautiful. People are broken inside of the beautiful place, but it’s where dreams go.

For me, the two men in the film sacrifice themselves subconsciously – by choice – to bring these women together. Charlotte’s character looks at it that way as well. I do believe that when somebody passes, someone you really love, if you can get past the grief, you can almost see an avenue line up that is new and different. It’s almost like some people can do only a certain amount here as a soul, but they can do more on the other side. My father died not long after I met him. I felt him very much in my life then.

I love the moment where Willie sees Adeline walking and talking with her father. She thought she was the only one who could see her father.

Let me say something about Willie and that moment: The other dimension is that Jimmy is seeing into his future. He’s seeing her father because he’s getting close to that point himself.

The veil.

Yes. He sees through it on his last day.

We must talk about Willie Nelson and the fact that you filmed it on his ranch.

I shot a documentary with Willie in the mid-90s (Willie Nelson: Down Home) and I filmed it all there. I was a huge fan of Red Headed Stranger and that set was built for Red Headed Stranger on his property, and rather than burn it down when the film was over, Willie said, “Leave it.” It’s so beautiful to be in that world, with so much history. He created his own little town on his ranch. I really wanted to shoot the film there and I didn’t think I could, for tax breaks or other financial reasons. One of our investors was from Texas, though, and everything sort of lined up so I could shoot there. It’s such a magical place. To drive through those gates every day was such a gift. I remember Charlotte on her last day just walking around the property and taking it all in before she left. There’s just some sort of energy there. It’s Willie, it’s the history of what they tried to do in Red Headed Stranger, the movie and the album are there. We built the pink house in Willie’s field, but we did the interior house in one of the Red Headed Stranger buildings. I am so happy we got to do that. It’s very personal to Willie as well.

That little town is also on his ranch?

Yes!

With the chandeliers as streetlamps?

Well, I added the chandeliers.

You love light.

I love light so much! I have to have lights wherever I go. My house is lit like a circus.

Tell me about bringing Charlotte Rampling on to play Dixie. She was magnificent.

I have been a huge fan of Charlotte Rampling’s since Georgy Girl. I fell in love with her as a little kid, and I followed her career as I grew up. Charlotte is such a brave brave actor and I think she is under-appreciated in America in that way. She’s appreciated in Europe. She’s gotten every award there is to get. To see a woman like this, who was such a beauty, let herself age – and of course she’s still beautiful – but it’s such a great example to women. What I love about Charlotte is she’s brave and she supports filmmakers like me. This was my first feature, and she said Yes. This was something different for her. The idea of playing Willie Nelson’s wife, or that she would get to dress up like Marilyn Monroe – that was so different for her, and she really wanted to do it. That’s the beauty of Charlotte. It’s not about her career. She doesn’t try to maneuver her career. If you look at her movies, it’s about the work and taking risks and experimentation. That’s what’s so wonderful about her.

I imagine you had no rehearsal.

I had no rehearsal and also I had to shoot the film in 18 days. I only had time for 1 or 2 takes. What I did was I let the actors do what they instinctively felt they should do. I wanted them to be authentic. I kept saying, “Just do this the way you feel you should do it.” I didn’t want it to feel like it’s a performance in any way. And that’s all I really said. I didn’t really direct them at all.

The second you see Willie and Charlotte together, you know they have been together forever. They almost looked alike, too, with their big sad beautiful eyes. When he would say the word “We” – it was never “I” – it felt so natural. They were totally a “we”.

The weird thing was, that just happened. They had such incredible chemistry right away. I felt that it would happen but I didn’t know it would happen like that, that they would be so comfortable with each other. They were able to connect to this love between the characters, they created it in a way that was very authentic. They were very natural together. It felt like they had known each other forever.

And how did you find Sophie Lowe, your wonderful young ingenue.

I had seen Sophie in a brilliant Australian movie directed by Rachel Ward called Beautiful Kate and it stars Ben Mendelsohn and Sophie. Ben was living in my guest house at the time and I asked him if he could reach out to Sophie Lowe, because I thought I wanted her for my movie. He emailed Sophie and we set up a Skype call, and that was it for me. She was perfect. Also, she had done gymnastics. She could do trapeze! I was sort of pressured to put a star in the role but I needed someone who didn’t have anything in their face, no other associations. What is so wonderful about Sophie is – she’s such an innocent girl, and when she acts, there’s no judgment. She’s this vessel who keeps taking everything in, but she’s very strong about it at the same time. I wanted her to be strong because the character had to overcome things. But I also wanted her to be innocent and vulnerable and open. Accepting.

And Sile Birmingham was amazing. In the character of Betty, you see what life can do to people, how it can destroy. You have the innocence of Adeline, and the open faces of Jimmy and Dixie, but then you have Betty, this raw nerve walking around …

Sile really fought for the role. She heard about it, heard I was casting it out of LA, and reached out to me on Facebook. She kept sending me tapes, and then one day, I was coming out of Trader Joe’s and I saw her driving into the Trader Joe’s parking lot, and I recognized her from all the tapes she sent. I was like, “Okay. It’s meant to be. I have to talk to this person.” She really came after the role. She did a wonderful job.

There was such a poignant quality to the scenes at The Beautiful Place, Dixie’s Marilyn Monroe act, Adeline on the trapeze, and something about it made me think of Tennessee Williams’ characters. His characters are often tormented by the past, but there are precious things in the past, too. You managed to capture that feeling.

What Betty goes through is exactly what you go through when you go to face a parent who has left you. Most adoption stories are very happy but a lot of them aren’t. The rejection you feel at an early age is very deep and the fear of reaching out is so traumatic. Sile’s portrayal of that – I mean, that’s what it’s like. You’re so scared. What I wanted for Willie and Charlotte was that the characters’ real-ness and authenticity and faith worked together to bring this reunion about. I think magical things can happen like that, and they do happen in a strange way, and you think “How did I get myself here?” And you realize it’s the thoughts and energies of different people all around who have guided you to this place.

Everyone in the film – even the smaller characters – all feel very real. The people who show up for Dixie’s show, the boy Adeline talks to in town, they all had a very human quality, but they were part of the magic, too. They were inside the dream.

It’s really hard these days to get actors not to act. That’s how I tried to cast it as well because I knew I wouldn’t have time to break any bad acting habits. Actors learn all these bad habits and when they get nervous in front of the camera, those habits really show themselves, and I didn’t have time to deal with it. When I was casting, I kept that in mind the whole time. Everyone was very authentic and I was very grateful for that.

I realize I have a one-track mind, but there was something about the opening of the gate, and the little hearts lining the drive, and the lights everywhere – that made me think of Graceland.

Well, you got that right!

People who call Graceland “tacky” don’t understand.

They don’t at all. If you are bonded to Elvis, like we are, it comes through everything. It just does.

Could you talk to me about Wim Wenders’ and Bono’s involvement as exec. producers?

Wim has always been my mentor. He’s been involved in all of my films. He came on board and he was really helpful. He helped me reach out to actors. He didn’t have anything to do with the shoot, but he was very encouraging. Bono didn’t have a really big role, but he introduced me to Mark Rodgers, who’s this beautiful man who pulled the financing together for the film. Rodgers worked on The Hill for 16 years, and now he’s all about raising money for good causes and he saw this film as a good cause. He’s been its champion all along. Bono introduced me to him and then Bono also wrote a song for Willie to sing at the end.

Hearing Willie Nelson singing that song written by Bono over the end credits was just goosebump-worthy.

Mickey Raphael is one of my best friends and he helped pull it all together. He said, “You know, Willie has never sang in this key before.” It’s so beautiful, very broken and beautiful. Bono is a very dear friend of mine. And here’s a story about how things sometimes happen. Many years ago, I was here as an actress. It must have been 1986 or 1987. We were all in the Sunset Marquis – Bono, me, and Michael Hutchence was with us – and Bono was playing a song on the piano. It was about 4 in the morning and it was such a beautiful song, and I asked him what it was. Bono said, “You’re gonna love this story, Lian. I wrote this song for Willie Nelson.” We all loved Elvis and Willie Nelson. I said, “What? What happened? Did he record it?” He said, “It’s a very embarrassing story. I sent the song to Willie Nelson and I never heard back. He didn’t respond. And I felt so embarrassed because here I was, this upstart rock star, sending one of the greatest songwriters of our time a song.” He was appalled at what he had done. He was so appalled he could barely talk about it. Cut to years later, I had been asked to make a video and an EPK for Willie Nelson. Willie Nelson was my first directing job, which is ironic. His manager called me and asked me where did I want to shoot it? Willie was touring Europe. We could shoot it in Amsterdam, Ireland. I said, “Let’s shoot it in Ireland.” The manager didn’t know that I knew Bono, didn’t know the whole story, but he said, out of nowhere, “You know, Bono wrote Willie a song once and sent it to Willie and Willie just didn’t know what to do with it.” I hung up the phone, and immediately called Bono. I said, “Willie knows about the song! Willie remembers the song!” So I meet Willie in Ireland and I take him directly to U2’s studio. They’re all nervous, and Bono keeps saying to everyone [whispers], “Don’t mention the song, don’t mention the song…” During dinner, Bono brings up the song, and Willie said, “It’s a great song.” Bono said, “Do you want to sing it now?” And Willie said, “Sure!” And I had my camera downstairs, and I shot Willie recording Bono’s song, and I put it in the documentary. The weird symmetry of all this is – I didn’t know Willie Nelson at the time. I was an actress back then. I brought Willie Nelson to Bono to do the same song that Bono had played for me on the night at the Sunset Marquis years before. Bono was sitting across the table from me looking at me like, “How did this happen?”

There is something about the way you love what you love – like Elvis, or Willie Nelson, or Leonard Cohen – it shows up in your other films, too … it brings people together. It’s not just about being a fan. It’s something else.

When I was a child, I was very religious. No one else in my family was. The first time I saw Elvis was his Hawaii special. I was about 10. When he sang the spiritual songs, I saw in him what I was feeling. I had never seen it before. I could see in him what I felt inside. It was shocking to my core. From that age, he entered my system as somebody that I related to, and had come to relate to me, when nobody else did at that time. When I go to work on projects in my career, if I’m not going to learn something, or spiritually grow in the experience, then there’s no point in me doing it. I have done all of these projects with deeply spiritual people, and I’m drawn to those people because they have something to teach me, and as I’m making the project, I’m taking in what they share and I come out of it a better person. Making Miracle was like that. It was a leap of faith, in a lot of ways. I am really interested in trying to capture the unseen in all my projects. It’s quite hard to do. The symbols of the unseen world – the unseen world that I know – are there in The Beautiful Place.

Speaking of capturing the feeling of an unseen world: How did you work with your cinematographer, Kimberly Culotta? And how did you gather together your team, in general?

Most of my keys were women. I didn’t choose them because they were women. I chose them because they were good. I think it’s demeaning to women to hire them just because they’re women. You hire them because they’re good at what they do. Kimberly had never done a film like this. I looked at her reel and her reel was exactly what I didn’t want. I had a choice of either going with a big DP who was fatherly and telling me what to do because it was my first film – or going with someone where we could jump in together, and I chose that. I chose to take a risk with her. In pre-production, she did a huge book of storyboards. I am not one of those people who works like that, set up this shot, get this shot here, switch around and get the other way. I’m not going to cut like that, either. So the first day, I tried to do it her way, and I tried to follow her storyboards. It just wasn’t going to work, though. We only had 18 days. The other thing was, the lighting was very tricky in the beginning. Everyone over-lights things. I told them to take all the lights down, they just needed to use a soft pink light. I said to Kimberly after the first day, “The only way we’re going to get it done is if we shoot hand-held.” And she did it, she carried that camera the whole time. And she was so tiny. She did such a great job.

I would never have guessed this wasn’t her natural style. She really got your vision.

We put a black net – like they used to do in old Hollywood films – over the camera. Everything is shot through a black net so it gives the image a dreamy old-Hollywood look. I knew what I wanted and Kimberly was there and went along with me and that was the best way to do it. You have to take a risk. And to hire people – to give them a break in their career – you have to take a risk. It’s like any person’s career. Someone has to give you a break. So I gave her this break. And now she’s a gardener. She hasn’t shot anything since. She’s a very interesting person which is why I liked her. She was a bit eccentric. I thought, “You know what? That’s my gal. We can do this together.” We took a leap, and it worked.

I imagine part of the struggle of being a director – especially on a first feature – is to get everybody on the same page.

People are trained to do things a certain way because that’s what most people want. I came in, and didn’t want any of that. It was hard for some people, which wasn’t their fault. They were trying to do their job as well. Willie had the SXSW Luck Reunion about 5 days into our shoot, so we were not allowed to build anything on his ranch until that was over. So for those days, I was shooting one person in a scene, but then I couldn’t shoot the other person until about 5 days later because we had nothing built behind them. I didn’t see the interior of the Beautiful Place until we were ready to shoot. They did a brilliant job. They pulled the whole interior – the floor, the paint, the pictures – together in one evening and half a day.

And the props person – he created Jimmy’s book, and he created the whole thing, every page of it, and authenticity like that really comes out, you can feel it. It’s hard to ask people to do something completely different from what they know. And even our AD wanted to quit halfway through because I wouldn’t give her an update every morning of what I was going to shoot. I told her, “I need to feel what I need to do in the moment, and I know that’s going to make your job a little harder, but if the light is good out there, we have a handheld camera and you just have to work with me.” I had directed documentary films, and in documentary, you have to let the magic happen, you have to let the film dictate itself in a way. You feel certain things and you know you’re meant to do it a certain way, and you need to be ready to catch moments, and that’s the way I work. It was challenging for her. But then there were moments when we were going to shoot a scene, a scene I had worked on for 2 years – and we’d only have half an hour to shoot it – and I was in tears, honestly, and she’d say, “We’ve got to get started, let’s shoot it, let’s go” – and she was brilliant in that way. Without her doing that, pushing me, I wouldn’t have got it done. I hope that it was good for her in the end, that she got to work with someone who did things differently.

The proof is in the result. It’s a beautiful film. Something like this could have been very precious. There wasn’t a moment, though, that I didn’t feel every character’s unfinished business. Even Sophie’s character. Her innocence has secret and loss in it. Unfinished business is why we have art.

When Dixie and Betty meet for the first time, I didn’t know what Charlotte was going to do in that moment, I just said, “Go for it, do whatever you want” – and then she put her hands up to Sile’s face in that beautiful way. I didn’t tell her to do that. I didn’t tell her to do anything. It’s been a really difficult experience in a lot of ways but also a very beautiful one. The beauty of Mark Rodgers was that he had such faith in the film and continues to have faith in it. You don’t often get to work with people in that capacity who have faith in you, a spiritual faith in you. Willie came to it spiritually and Charlotte got it spiritually, too. Charlotte kept saying to me, “The spirituality of this is just so beautiful.” She said in an interview, “It’s very hard to find stories like this that aren’t sappy, or trying to convey a message.”

The spiritual aspect is obviously a huge part of the film, and not just in the “miracle” part of it. I am thinking of Charlotte’s line – which is also a tribute to your writing, by the way – about Marilyn Monroe: “She was a bright bright light dressed as a person.” I don’t know if Marilyn has ever been described so perfectly.

When you grow up and you don’t have a dad, you put on a shield, you become a different person to deal with your reality. If you imagined yourself with a big strong dad who was there to protect you, you would honestly feel different. And so there’s a little bit of that in Charlotte’s character. People often do that. They pretend to be somebody else because it’s better than being who they are. I was really inspired by this story – and it’s so strange beause it’s unrelated – but it’s a story about a woman who was homeless and this writer became fascinated with her. She told a tragic story about how she came to be living on the streets. She had come home one day and found that her husband had hacked her children to death. This writer found out that it wasn’t the real story: she was living with that image because it was easier for her to live with than to acknowledge that she’d left her children. She’d walked out on them. This story has always stayed with me. You can understand it. Something as traumatic as that … The guilt was so much that her punishment was living on the streets and telling people this other story. You don’t know what’s in people’s pasts. They tell you stories, and often you don’t hear the real story. I think that’s important to portray in some way. Dixie sees Marilyn as a bright bright light. She wants to cling to that light and it’s why she becomes somebody else. She can’t be who she is. And I love that Jimmy just goes along with it. He loves Dixie so much that it doesn’t faze him at all that she wants to be Marilyn Monroe.

I feel very honored and privileged and lucky that these people allowed me to make Miracle. It’s very hard to make a film like this these days. The films I love – films like Ponette and Baghdad Cafe … these films leave you with something. The people who allowed me to make Miracle knew it would be a challenge, but they helped me to do it. That doesn’t happen very often. Without them, I would never have gotten to do it.

It’s so great that the film is being released on Willie Nelson’s 86th birthday. I saw him at Outlaw Fest a couple of years ago, and, as you know, he is even more extraordinary live. It was like he cast a spell on us, especially with his guitar-playing. It’s otherworldly, almost like jazz.

He’s such a genius. One night when we were shooting, I took Sophie and Charlotte to go see Merle Haggard and Willie play together. Merle got really sick right after that, so we were so grateful we got to see him. It was not lost on me how amazing a moment it was. I will always remember that precious precious night. The night I went to see Merle and Willie with Charlotte Rampling.

Waiting for the Miracle to Come arrives tomorrow, April 29, on VOD and DVD/Blu-Ray, including a Special Collector’s Edition. Look for it on iTunes. More information on the film’s site.

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Review: Wrestle (2018)

The opening shot of Suzannah Herbert and Lauren Belfer’s documentary Wrestle – which follows four members of a Huntsville, Alabama high-school wrestling team through their 2015-16 season – is a stunner. A green athletic field stretches far below, lit-up at night. In the foreground a group of boys stagger up a steep slope of grass, carrying each other on their backs, grunting and heaving with effort. They are seen in stark black silhouette, against the white-lit green field below, and the image is like something out of a war film, a war film that understands the poetry of strain and struggle. It is an appropriate way to start, since the kids attend J.O. Johnson High School, an extremely poor school with no resources, a school flagged as “failing”, not to mention a school without a wrestling tradition (the program is only 3 years old).

Wrestle is the story of battling against multiple intersecting odds. There’s the difficulty of excellence in sports, in general. Athletics is a meritocracy. Everyone has to work hard, no matter your background. But this is complicated in Wrestle by an environment where excellence doesn’t seem possible. If you’re in a failing school, the sense of failure and fatalism trickles down. It is the job of the young coach, Chris Scribner, to keep the kids on the side of at least the possibility of success, to believe in themselves. A couple of them are hoping for wrestling scholarships to college, the only way they could possibly even attend. Wrestle is the documentation of the season leading up to the State Championships, when the team goes on an unexpected winning streak, beating teams from rich schools, rich white schools. They’re the classic underdogs, come from out of seemingly nowhere.

Wrestle includes sequences as gripping as any fictional “sports movie”, so much so I found myself clapping out loud at times, in frustration and excitement, urging one of the kids on to win, or gasping when one of them is defeated. This is intensified by a feeling of worry, a kind of, “My God, please let everyone be okay” thing which is difficult to manufacture, at least without sentimentality or manipulative uplift. (Two Oscar-nominated docs from last year – Hale County This Morning, This Evening and Minding the Gap generated a similar sense of urgency and investment, albeit in very different ways.)

Herbert, who grew up in Memphis, embedded herself with the team for the season, accompanied by cinematographer Sinisa Kukic, whose work is unobtrusive, and yet intuitive and gorgeous (see previously mentioned opening shot). Four kids emerge from the pack, carrying the film forward in separate narratives. There’s Jailen, whose mother abandoned him when he was 2, and raised by his grandfather. Sensitive and articulate, Jailen gestures at his wrestling awards tacked on the wall and informs the camera, disarmingly honest, “I have a commitment to fulfill as a black male, and not letting the African race down by becoming a menace to society.” This burden lies heavy on the kids. It’s the air they breathe. When Jailen is almost arrested for public urination, it is only the presence of the cameras – and Coach Scribner’s intervention – that keeps the event from careening out of control.

Jaquan, a good-natured kid, skates on thin ice: he skips school (which threatens his position on the team), he eats junk food (his “weigh ins” are always cliffhangers), and seems always on the verge of going down the wrong path. His mother harangues him about skipping school, and jokes to the camera, “I got a white son.” (Wrestling seen as a white boy’s sport was yet another hurdle Coach Scribner had to combat in setting up the program). Teague, one of the few white kids on the team, is a ferocious competitor, but his behavioral issues get in the way (he doesn’t take the meds he’s supposed to, and instead self-medicates with marijuana). It is Jamario, though, who is the heart and soul of the film.

A talented wrestler, Jamario is also a troubled young man who struggles with anxiety and depression, especially as the birth of his first child approaches. He says, brushing it off, “I just have mood swings and mental breakdowns, that’s all.” There’s an incredible sequence when he breaks down in tears in the back seat of Coach Scribner’s car, and Scribner tries to talk him out of the breakdown. Jamario declares, “I’m gonna break the cycle. I’m not gonna be a deadbeat dad.” But you can feel the anxiety in the statement, as well as the almost self-fulfilling prophecy embedded in such enormous pressure. The pressure gets to Jamario. He wants to quit the team. Scribner has to go to Jamario’s house to basically drag him out of bed. Everyone – his girlfriend, his mother, Scribner – devote their lives to keeping Jamario on track. It’s a full-time job. It is in these sequences where sticking something out – even just making it through the wrestling season, no matter how much you want to quit – becomes hugely symbolic. It’s not just about wrestling. The team practices have a sense of real urgency, they’re like military drills, getting the boys ready for compat under fire. It’s life or death.

Except for Jailen’s grandfather, none of the boys have adult male figures in their lives. All the dads are dead, incarcerated, or just plain gone. They are felt mostly as a haunting absence. Coach Scribner, only 10 years older than the kids on the team, fills an enormous void.

It was he who set up the program, a young man from up north. In other words, not from around these here parts. In a lot of ways, he calls to mind Ken Howard’s “white shadow” (TV series The White Shadow, 1978-81). Scribner’s devotion to the kids is of the tough-love variety. He talks on their level (“Stop being a dickhead” he tells Jamario at one point), he pushes them, he won’t take “No” for an answer. You can’t just walk away from the team. Coach Scribner won’t let you. You see how he has basically become a member of everyone’s family, befriending the mothers, the girlfriends, the grandfathers, creating a multi-tentacled support system to catch the kids if they fall. He knows everyone’s home situation. He knows where to find the kids if they slack off. He is heavily involved in their lives. Even with the gaps in experience and understanding, he’s there for them (even if it’s just, at times, as a figure to rebel against).

Put together from 600 hours of footage, Wrestle has a raw clarity and almost frayed power, coming at you from all different directions. The documentary scoops you into its forward momentum with periodic reminders of the end point (“15 weeks to State Championships,” etc.), creating an organic buildup of suspense. The stakes are higher than just “will they make it to the State Championships?”, but Wrestle doesn’t slack off on the excitement of high school sports, too, capturing the feelings of pure triumph when they win, and searing disappointment when they lose. It’s a roller-coaster ride of emotion.

Late in the film, as Scribner drives to school, he talks about his own troubled youth. He ran with the wrong people, did drugs (is now sober), got in all kinds of trouble. But there’s one crucial difference, a difference mostly unspoken and yet felt throughout. He acknowledges it, saying, “I made all the choices they did and I was given a lot of chances. I don’t know how that’s fair.”

It’s not. It’s not fair.

Wrestle played at Indie Memphis while I was there, but unfortunately I missed it. I am very glad to have caught up with it. It’s now available on streaming platforms (iTtunes, Googleplay, Amazon, Fandagonow). It will also premiere on ITVS on May 20.

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Supernatural finale

I just saw a promo on the CW’s Twitter feed showing Castiel front and center, with Sam and Dean behind him. Which pretty much encapsulates my issues with what’s been going on. Not just with Castiel, who has been an irrelevant three-bean-surprise annoyance in the show for years now, but with Sam and Dean presented as background support to other narratives, as opposed to their narratives driving the show – which, up until Season 12, they did. I saw some person on Twitter respond to a similar comment with “Go watch Season 1 through 3 then. The show has moved on without you.” This is such a mis-reading of … the whole entire show? of Season 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11 … the main narrative was Sam in trouble/Dean trying to find solution, or Dean in trouble/Sam trying to find solution. That this is a controversial opinion is one of the reasons why my intersection with fandom has mainly been here, on this site, with you fine people. I haven’t seen the finale yet, though. If I were JA and JP, I’d look at that promo and think, “Man, it’s sad that this will be ending, but it’s probably best we’re getting out of this thing now if that’s how they’re presenting us.”

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