We Jam Econo (2005)

 ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

We Jam Econo (2005) – T. Irwin

I’m pretty sure I didn’t really appreciate the Minutemen when I saw them open for R.E.M. at the Mosque Theatre in Richmond, VA, in the Fall of 1985 (except perhaps their Creedence cover “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?”). This turned out to be their final tour before singer/guitarist/lyricist d. boon died in a van accident in December of that year.  Knowing that outcome adds a lot of extra emotional weight to this otherwise straightforward doco about the band – even the predictable ex-punk talking heads seem to have an extra level of tenderness toward the band.  Of course, a lot of that devotion is due to the striking contribution of this band to music history.  They were punk, yes, but not in the stereotypical sense. Instead, they were flying flannel as self-professed corn-dogs out of San Pedro, CA, ready to absorb classic rock, country, jazz, and everything else they heard into their short sometimes abrasive songs; they grew into musicians with superb creative technique (drummer George Hurley gets many kudos here). Our guide through the band’s history is bass player/singer/lyricist Mike Watt, now an elder statesman of the music scene (as well as in 2005). I guess I did not realise how many of the band’s songs he wrote himself (nor the fierce rivalry between him and d. boon) – thinking about it now, you can see the difference between boon’s political lyrics and Watt’s more narrative take (esp. on “History Lesson Part 2” of course). He’s down to earth, switched on, and authentic in his spiel. I’ve got 3 or 4 of the band’s albums, including their opus Double Nickels on the Dime, which was designed not only to compete with Husker Du’s Zen Arcade, another double LP, but was a reference to Sammy Hagar’s “I can’t drive 55” because his driving might have been crazy/exciting but his music was boring – the Minutemen opted for the converse, boring driving (at 55 or below) but crazy/exciting music.

Brokeback Mountain (2005)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Brokeback Mountain (2005) – A. Lee

It’s a tragedy.  It’s a love story.  It’s a tragic love story.  Of course it is, because it is about two cowboys in the 1960s who have a passionate affair one summer alone on the titular mountain in Wyoming.  The affair itself with its beautifully filmed scenic backdrop is delicately handled by director Ang Lee (but not without some visceral moments); however, it is the decades long aftermath that is really the focus of the picture.  Heath Ledger gives a truly exceptional performance as Ennis Del Mar, a man of few words but with strong and deep emotions restrained inside him. Jake Gyllenhaal is Jack Twist, a rodeo bull-rider, who seems weaker than Del Mar but more willing to take risks for love, despite society’s prejudice.  After their initial time together, life takes them into the conventional roles for men in that decade – husband (to Michelle Williams and Anne Hathaway, respectively) and father (to two girls and one boy, respectively).  The screenplay (by Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana from a story by Annie Proulx) conveys the pain that both men feel in these relationships that do not offer them true love.  And the consequences play out much as you can expect, sadly.  Although this is an expensive prestige picture, and perhaps too safe and polished at times, the acting (particularly by Ledger) contributes to a moving (and crushing) feature that reminds us how far (and yet sometimes not so far) we have come in our journey as a society.

  

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (2005)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ½

The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (2005) – C. Puiu

I’ve now seen reference to a new genre called “21^st Century Realist” films, which may feel like the documentaries of Frederick Wiseman but which are really fully scripted and mounted by professional actors who nevertheless stage their photoplay in real settings, sometimes surrounded by nonprofessional real people.  The other key example would likely be 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days (2007) directed by Cristian Mungiu, where two women seek an illegal abortion.  The Death of Mr. Lazarescu is also a Romanian film, directed by Cristi Puiu, sparking the notion that this is a specifically Romanian genre – but, no, I think one might be able to include the films of the Dardennes brothers (although they began in the 1990s).  Not unlike the Belgian masters, Puiu guides his narrative straight into the heart of darkness, where people at odds with society (often due to poverty or fractured relations with others) are scrabbling to keep things together in the face of unfeeling social institutions.  Here, aging Mr. Lazarescu (first name: Dante; played by the late Ion Fiscuteanu) is sent on a journey into the hell that is the Bucharist hospital system when he calls an ambulance to report a bad headache and complications from an earlier ulcer. As the film progresses, we switch our identification from Lazarescu to his angel of mercy, paramedic Mioara Avram (played by Luminita Gheorghiu), who guides him through four separate emergency rooms, meeting an assortment of mostly hostile and arrogant doctors who simultaneously clarify his diagnosis and delay his treatment.  The more we identify with Mrs. Mioara, the more Lazarescu becomes a dehumanized body, poked and prodded, put through the CT scanner, talked about as though he weren’t there, or infantilized.  There is a vein of very dark humour running throughout, underscoring the preposterousness of everything, and brilliantly creating a firewall against tears (which surely should come).  Indeed, for all of its 150 minutes, I was never less than completely absorbed in the unpredictable events onscreen; for me, unlike for Lazarescu or Mioara, the time flew by.  In the end, the real point here seems to be to pillory a system that treats death as something ignominious – here’s hoping that none of us is that unfortunate.

The Devil and Daniel Johnston (2005)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

The Devil and Daniel Johnston (2005) -- J. Feuerzeig

I bought "Songs of Pain" and "More Songs of Pain" in the late '80s, presumably from Jeff Tartakov and Stress records. Over the years I was aware, on and off, of Daniel Johnston's trials and travails. The Devil and Daniel Johnston fills in the gaps in my knowledge. As with biopics of other artists suffering mental illness (e.g., the recent one about Roky Erickson), the film evokes complex feelings (sadness, horror, guilt, hope, joy). Jeff Feuerzeig gets it just about right and the documentary evidence of Daniel's career (and early home life) he gathered is staggering.