The candler blog is not just a movie review website, though we do plenty of that from time to time. Officially, when people ask me what kind of a website this is, I say “the candler blog is a film theory and criticism website”, which cinema civilians tend to get a bit confused by. “Theory?” they ask. What do we mean by that? Myself and Sunrise Tippeconnie have recorded a Candlercast to help explain that idea. Just like an egg candler holds an egg up to light to determine its health, we hold films and pop culture up to our own form of candle. In picking apart the minutiae of films and filmmaking, we hope to achieve a greater understanding of this art form.

Sunrise Tippeconnie and I are friends and collaborators who have spent hours upon hours deconstructing every part of the process of moviemaking over the years. I would like to share just some of that conversation with you, dear readers, will join in. On the docket for this first dialogue are the state of HD and 4K video acquisition. We talk about the usefulness of certain technologies alongside film, the need for more standardization of cinema terminologies, and the Charlie Chaplin vs. Buster Keaton complex. What does all of that mean? You’ll have to listen to find out.

[podcast]http://www.candlerblog.com/wp- content/uploads/2009/10/Candlercast04-Conversation.mp3[/podcast] [Right-Click to Download](http://www.candlerblog.com/wp- content/uploads/2009/10/Candlercast04-Conversation.mp3) • Subscribe in iTunes

Henri-George Clouzot’s Inferno (L’enfer d’Henri-Georges Clouzot), Dir.

Serge Bromberg & Ruxandra Medrea, France, 2009

I had never heard of Serge Bromberg before I went to the New York Film Festival’s screening of his. I thought I was going to see a restoration of a long lost film when I sat down to Henri- Georges Clouzot’s Inferno at this year’s New York Film Festival. However, once Serge Bromberg, the filmmaker behind this curious concoction, took the stage to begin introduce the film, I learned that it was something else entirely. Part documentary and part re-enactment, the film is an attempt to understand Clouzot’s most ambitious failure, a film that would have been called Inferno. and cinematic excavator who spent countless hours spelunking the depths of notes, dailies and interviews with every living person connected to the woebegone film, there simply wasn’t enough to resurrect Clouzot’s most ambitious failure. Luckily, he recognized that the story of Inferno could still be told even without all the elements of the original.

Built like a teddy bear with an unending charisma, Mr. Bromberg introduced his film with a lengthy story that never really ended, his moderator futilely giving him the wrap-it-up signal. As if with a professorial sleight-of-hand, his tale ended with him waiting for an elevator with Clouzot’s widow, defeated as she would not hand over her husband’s stockpile of footage. Once the film rolled, the story picked right back up where Bromberg had left off, except now in french. The two got stuck in that elevator and he managed to charm her as he had us. This playfulness in the screening, one of the hallmarks of a festival showing, made it quite obvious how the filmmaker gained access to the extent he did. Still, even as good a cinematic excavator as he is, having spent countless hours spelunking the depths of notes, dailies and interviews with every living person connected to the woebegone film, we slowly learn that there are many missing elements from the project.

The original film was basically the story of a husband who is driven mad by thoughts of his wife cheating on him. It is unclear whether or not she is up to anything untoward, but her hubby has nightmares of misdeeds nonetheless. Already an international success, Mr. Clouzot was able to secure “unlimited” financing for the project, which quickly became the highest budgeted French film in history to that point. Ridden with problems ranging from time limits with the location to sick cast members, the film never came to fruition. Where this becomes so fascinating to film historians and nerds alike is the role that Clouzot plays in the French cinema timeline. Originally celebrated, the French New Wave critics derided him as part of the older school of filmmaking, dismissing much of his work after the rise of the New Wave. Perhaps the limtlessness of Inferno did him in, while the newer generation of constrained filmmakers (small budgets, limited locations, etc.) flourished.

As the titles of both the documentary and the original film imply, the entire endeavor was about a descent into madness. With his massive budget, Clouzot began experimenting with some phenomenal special effects, many of which have been restored for this documentary. I can’t quite describe how these tests looked, but I can tell you that it is reminiscent of the great Geoffrey Unsworth’s brilliant work on Superman: The Movie years later. (To give credit where credit is due, Unsworth used some of Stan Brakhage’s experimentations in that film, but if any of them could have seen Inferno…) In one of the most amazing series of tests (illustrated above), the team painted the actors various colors so they would look human once the colors were chemically reversed. Initially this was to turn a river red, but the amount of tests make it seem as though Clouzot had even more in mind. Bright, ephemeral, and relentlessly inventive, the cinematography itself is worth the peek if this film comes to your town.

Truth be told, the story that Mr. Bromberg cobbles together from the breadcrumbs Clouzot left behind is not all that interesting. With his youthful spirit and encyclopedic knowledge of film, he makes clear the excitement he had diving into this lost treasure, but in the end there just isn’t enough to keep our attention. Given that no audio was recovered, some scenes were staged and cut with footage from the original. Essentially, the task was to spin hay into gold, but only half the hay was there. An interesting little piece indeed, but I would much rather have gone on the adventure myself, doubled over film winders looking for clues to the masterpiece this genius could never complete. But perhaps Clouzot was smarter than us all and knew that no matter how out of the box he could go, Inferno would always be a fool’s errand. Thankfully, Mr. Bromberg was enough of a fool to bring us something to chew on.

Lebanon (לבנון‎), Dir. Samuel Maoz, Israel, 2009

Middle Eastern politics are as tenuous as ever. While filmmakers, artists, politicos and celebrities became entrenched in a controversy over the Toronto International Film Festival’s decision to feature films from Tel Aviv this year, a very interesting thing happened halfway around the world. As voices pointed towards our neighbors to the north expressed beliefs for or against Israeli cinema, the jury at the Venice Film Festival gave their top honor, the Golden Lion, to Samuel Maoz’s Lebanon, a film which chronicles the 1982 Lebanon War from the vantage point of a tank gunner. We can learn a lot from not only a film like this, but the story that surrounds it given the timing of its release.

Lebanon opens and closes in a field, but that is the only time you will be outside of an Israeli tank for the entire runtime of the film. Mr. Maoz, who shares a nickname with the film’s most relatable character, Shmulik, wants to bring us to the emotional realities of a war he experienced through the sight scope. It is a bold move and the concept comes off incredibly smooth. The story keeps moving forward, even though we do not. At the NYFF screening, cinematographer Giora Bejach quipped that they kept the setting minimal for budgetary reasons. While this may be true, it’s much nicer to think there was a bit more intentionality behind the cramped landscape.

As far as war films go, Lebanon is okay. It is a valiant first effort for Mr. Maoz, who is new to feature filmmaking. The film’s biggest flaw is an inability to recognize when the audience has gotten the point well enough. Through some disturbing imagery, we are brought into the real horrors of war. A disrobed woman searching for her daughter, a disemboweled mule crying on the side of the road, an elderly truck driver veritably quartered by the blast of a tank shell. We linger on these sights through the cross-hairs for about twice as long as we need to emotionally. It reaches the point of manipulation, which doesn’t give the audience enough intellectual credit. That would be my sole, albeit weighty, complaint about this film.

The most phenomenal aspect of the film is the creative camerawork within (and technically without) the tank. The most novel device is using the armored vehicle’s spotting scope as a point-of-view eye on the action. Whenever Shmulik looks out onto what is happening, we see a crosshairs on screen. This is jarring in the kind of way that makes me feel all warm inside. The camera is now a weapon. As an audience, we must find a way to cope with the actions of the camera; cope with our actions. Like I said before, we linger for too long on the most emotionally wrenching scenes, but if there’s a point to that, it is to point out our complicity with the aberration of war.

Sitting within the belly of the steel beast are four soldiers, each predictably more fascinating than the next. There is a man-child, a sensitive type, a class clown, and a confused commander. Together, they navigate their range of emotions as the war presses on. It is a nice balance, again proof of Mr. Maoz’s phenomenal entrance into feature films. With time, he will be able to refine this square character relationship in a way that brings out a more surprising story. While it may be predictable, it is a real treat to see.

This is the internal struggle of the Israeli soldier. While he must fight to survive, how can he survive given what he has done. As Mr. Maoz mentioned after the screening, perhaps the two-plus decades that have passed since this war have given his generation the strength to tackle the most difficult questions a people can have about themselves. He noted this after the flurry of recent internationally recognized Israeli films on the topic, particularly Ari Folman’s Waltz with Bashir.

What is so odd about the spat that erupted in Toronto over the Tel Aviv films is that Lebanon is exactly the kind of film that Israel’s detractors would want to see. It is critical of government policy, questioning of the nation’s military strength, and speaks to the biggest causes of those who would like to keep Israel in check. This isn’t to say it is “anti-Israel” by any means, simply intellectually diverse; a conversation starter, if you will. And, like many films outside of the U.S., it was made with government funding. I bring all this up to point out the wide swatch of gray that exists between the black and white of Middle East arguments. Lebanon, while it may not be the best Israeli/war film, certainly represents an interesting progression in an ever changing cinema.

You may have heard of The Yes Men, two unassuming fellows who infiltrate business conferences and present outrageous concepts to captains of industry. Their hope is that people will see that Big Business has simply spun out of control, and hopefully bring enough attention to those who can effectively make a change: the people. Andy Bichlbaum is half of this rag-tag crew whose new film, The Yes Men Fix the World, chronicles some of their most daring exploits (they call them “actions”). While Andy may seem like a merry prankster, he and partner Mike Bonnano take themselves very seriously, as evidenced in this interview. They want you to laugh, but they also want you to take action. We chatted about his film, his beliefs, and “The Wave” (no, not that [Wave](http://www.candlerblog.com/2009/06/05/google-wave-for- filmmakers-a-concept/)). Listen in and leave the comments below.

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Oscars in tow, Joel and Ethan Coen don’t seem to know the meaning of a slow period. Their latest project, A Serious Man, just like Burn After Reading before it, is a small film with big ambitions. It is a family drama; it is a memoir of the golden age of American suburban rabbinic Judaism; it is a study of the intellect’s struggle with the belief (or disbelief) in a higher power. Acerbically funny and virtuously moody, this film is yet another feather in the cap of the brothers Coen.

In a landscape littered with cinematic imposters, A Serious Man features a main character who can accurately be described as a classic “schlemiel”. Larry Gopnik, played with remarkable sincerity by Michael Stuhlbarg, is a man who never asked for anything from God in his life, but when he is faced with trial upon trial, Mr. Gopnik finds his latent bent to the point of imminent breakage. A Physics professor at the local university, Larry is an impotent, small man who gets trampled from every angle. His wife is leaving him, a student is stong-arming him into a getting a better grade, his pothead son’s Bar Mitzvah is approaching amid mounting financial pressure, and his awkward brother takes up the only remaining space in his home.

The Coens make it clear early on that this story is a parable in the Jewish tradition. The first scene is in Yiddish, in the “old country”. As with the literature on which it is based, the scene has a clear beginning and middle, but the ending seems to be up to the viewer. The same goes for the film and the other parables sprinkled within. The answer is in the questions, so keep questioning, it would seem.

As Larry spirals deeper into his woeful situation, he hits on one of the great paradoxes of the intellect: that to refute the existence of a higher power, one must first accept that it exists to be able to disprove it. He is surrounded by fervent believers of whom he is jealous; Larry wants to believe that God will come to his aide. He is even ready to believe that this is all a test, a lesson of some sort. However, the community’s spiritual guides are not quite so quick to believe in divine troublemaking. Their faith is so sure, they would never question God in the way Larry does. Ironically, the Rabbis Larry consults would rather deny divinity than admit heavenly foul play. Whose faith is more certain?

Back again are all of the key players of any Coen brothers’ film. Roger Deakins bring his impeccable photography to the table, working in tandem with moving musical cues from the always enjoyable Carter Burwell. But my favorite member in this cabal of creatives has to be Skip Lievsay, whose pointed sound design continues to astound in every outing. There is such a respect for every miniscule detail of the frame, inside and out, that makes this team one of the peak performing cinematic forces on the planet. If it were up to me, they’d all get a blank check.

However, that would all be for naught if the stories that Joel and Ethan keep cooking up weren’t worth their weight in matzoh balls. There is a theatricality, a liveliness to the dialogue in A Serious Man. The push and pull that Larry must endure may frustrate us, but not to the point of unenjoyment. Rather, it is this awkward playfulness that draws us in and makes us feel warm and cozy in this otherwise disorienting film.

Yiddish literature, which is often branded as comedy, is not for the faint of heart. The laughs are contextual and communal, as in you might not get it if you weren’t born on a shtetl. In a coup for the lost art of Yiddishkeite, the Coens manage to transplant ideas from sages of yore into a more modern setting. Fear not, there is plenty for the Jewish nood to enjoy. After all, this is an American story, and the Coens are master storytellers when it comes to the peoples that populate this strange land. Focusing on their inner Jew (finally, tottelehs!), the effect is only amplified.

Filmmaker Brian Lonan has a lot to say about Science Fiction movies, which is a good thing because his new film, Attackazoids, Deploy!!, is full of killer robots in the future. He joins the candler blog this week for a chat about all things movies. On Satruday, Deploy! will be making its world premiere at the Coney Island Film Festival and he has a booked docket from there on out. It will be a busy few months for Mr. Lonano, so it’s a good thing we nabbed him when we could.

Tune in and you will also a conversation about the persistence of aging filmmakers, a gaff involving two Reiners, Werner Herzog’s film school, and where to find the best pizza in New York City. This week’s candlercast is one not to be missed. Stream, download, or subscribe below.

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The following is based solely on the first episode of “Bored to Death”. Pilots are always tough to get kickstarted, so perhaps I will revisit later in the season.

The easy headline for snarky yuk-yuk-chasers is that HBO’s latest series, “Bored to Death”, bored them to death, or some variation of that moldy wordplay. It is mildly unfortunate that Jonathan Ames’s show has a title destined for such simplistic panning, but even more unfortunate that it deserves every word and more. It’s not a boring show; it’s worse. It is a wasted opportunity. With talents as grand as Jason Schwartzman, Zach Galifanakis, Ted Danson and TV directing heavyweight Alan Taylor to hold together all that angst, this production simply deserves a better story.

The premise of “Bored to Death” is actually quite nice. Mentally blocked Brooklyn writer Jonathan Ames (yeah, the main character is named after the creator) moonlights as a private detective in hopes of kickstarting his creative juices. Still working on his second novel as the glow from his his first one fades, he is a man in search of a muse. The trouble is that the plot is presented so haphazardly, that description I just gave is based more on speculation than what I actually saw in the show.

What irks me the most is that nothing emotionally pushes Jonathan into the role of Craigslist dick-for-hire. Even though we are spoon fed this idea of him being a down-on-his-luck self-hating New York Jew who turns to the fantastic as an outlet, the emotinal progression just doesn’t warrant his descent into the life of a private eye. Furthermore, and this is just one of those problems about being born after the golden age of the mystery story, the gumshoe Ames becomes is based more on the visual incarnations of his heroes than the literary ones. Bogart’s snarl is more an inspiration than Chandler’s pen. He’s a writer, no? It’s not an entirely fair point, I’ll grant, since this is a television show, a visual medium.

Hopefully, Mr. Ames’s inspiration for this show comes at least in part from Dennis Potter’s brilliant BBC series, “The Singing Detective”. That show is a much more dramatic take on the writer’s reverie, but the similarities are apparent, particularly the visual and aural flair afforded the scenes of back- alley sneaking. Where “Bored to Death” falls short is in making the non- detective Ames incredibly mundane. Where Michael Gambon’s Philip Marlow was a fascinating man both from the confines of a hospital bed and in his dreams of solving crimes, Mr. Schwartzman’s Ames is a character all too familiar to anyone who has ever hung out with a writer. His bumbling sleuth work brings out the best of the actor’s wit, but it hardly covers up the blandness of his actual self.

We all wish we could be something that we are not. Jonathan Ames (the character) wishes to be more than just another impotent half-drunk self- deprecating Brooklyn writer. Alas, in his efforts to reach redemption it feels as though he will remain those things and join another group; those who are just fooling themselves into leading an interesting life only to find they are just another struggling artist in the sea of opportunity called New York.

Also known as Mr. Movie, Friedman, who passed away earlier this week, was a radio host with an encyclopedic knowledge of cinema. Part film critic, part historian, he was a man who very simply loved movies. Back in the days before IMDb, the forgetful viewer had a choice of unwieldy tomes such as Halliwells or Moviehound to keep one’s facts straight. For the unanswerable, or what I would now call the un-googleable, there was Mr. Movie. “It was the movie where there was a murder in it…”; “Who was that actor? He always played a bad guy, except this one time…”; “I think the director was  from Europe…” He always had an answer and a story to share with his eager listenership.

What is so baffling to a critic of my generation about Mr. Movie is that he managed to retain an incredible amount of information before the advent of home video. The bulk of the movies he would discuss, Hollywood classics, are films he would have seen in the theater, maybe only a handful of times. He was a film buff who never grew up. Up to his dying day (he passed away a few hours after a broadcast), Mr. Movie never lost that childish love of movies.

One memory that sticks out for me was listening to how fondly he spoke of the 1985 film Explorers. On it’s face, Explorers is a children’s film. Three friends build a spaceship out of an abandoned tilt-a-whirl car after they all experience the same dreams. Upon reaching the mothership that sent them the plans for the spacecraft, they find that their extraterrestrial pen pals are actually just kids, who are in trouble for making such a long distance call. Given that his favorite film, according to Philly.com’s obituary, was Forbidden Planet, it is no wonder that he would lean so favorably towards a sci-fi flick for youngsters.

To the mind of someone like Mr. Movie, there is no distinction between a good arthouse movie and a good blockbuster. A good movie is a good movie. As viewers and critics, we can only strive to be as democratic in our approach as the man they called Mr. Movie. He will be missed.

I first met filmmaker Blayne Weaver back at the Deadcenter Film Festival in June, where his film Weather Girl was playing. You can read what I thought about it back then in this post, but we’re way past reviewing the film at this point. Weather Girl will be making its television debut tomorrow, Septermber 23, 2009, on the Lifetime channel. You heard right, Lifetime.

Blayne took some time out of his schedule to chat with me about this current film, his next project, and topics as varied as digital distribution, Inglourious Basterds, and screening your film on a PS3. In other words, if you take the time to swallow this whole interview, you’ll be in for more than one surprise. Check it out and check the movie tomorrow night, on Lifetime.

[podcast]http://www.poritsky.com/thecandlerblog/wp- content/uploads/2009/09/Candlercast1_Blayne_Weaver_Interview.mp3[/podcast]

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If you managed to sidestep the ads for “The Jay Leno Show”, NBC probably rammed you in the face with hundreds of plugs for their latest scripted series, “Community”. Even if you’re a shut-in who deplores network comedies, actor Joel McHale probably reminded you to tune in on every episode of “The Soup” this summer. Well, I took the bait and plopped down to watch it last night. As with any first episode I left it feeling underwhelmed. Perhaps it’s just the difficulty of pulling off a pilot and introducing so many characters that caused the episode to flatline. More likely, it’s just not all that funny of an idea.

Mr. McHale plays Jeff Winger, a fast talking fratty lawyer who must go back to community college after the bar discovers his illegitimate degree. You know that guy; that white guy with cool hair that can talk you into anything. Think Zach Morris without the moral hangups. Jeff tries to impress cutie Britta (Gillian Jacobs) by starting a Spanish study group, which balloons into a whole mess of quirky folks converging to form a modern-day Sweat-hogs. Oddly, Jeff, a fellow student, plays Mr. Kotter in this case, except he can date the students. Kinky.

The simple problem with “Community” is that it rehashes the worst stereotypes of community colleges. The idea that they are for dropouts, jocks, the aging and all-out failures like Jeff Winger simply isn’t true. They are a vital part of our educational ecosystem which offer a very strong option to students of all levels who may not make the leap to other schools immediately. By its very nature, the show is elitist, classist and maybe a few more -ists. In truth, I wouldn’t care if it were a bit funnier.

Case in point: there was a shark week joke. We get it, ha ha, now let’s move on to some fresh material. I am excited, with reservations, to see how well they utilize Danny Pudi as Abed, a quirky (quirky!) Palestinian-American who probably has Asperger’s. (Another “Community” joke: “he he, Ass burgers”) He’s charming in the role, but I fear that the reliance on his blank stare and stilted outbursts will become old hat very fast.

Another actor I am excited to see on the show is Alison Brie, who here plays Annie “Adderall”. She is better known as Trudy, Pete Campbell’s wife, on “Mad Men”. She’s still bringing the whiny, but there is a splendor to her that I can’t quite put my finger on. Here she has to make a recovering drug addict relatable and funny. Once they hit an Annie-centric episode we will really see Ms. Brie’s chops put to the test.

Oh yeah, Chevy Chase is on it. Whatever.

Community could become great, but it’s going to be an uphill battle. There isn’t much originality happening for now, but like I said, it’s difficult to judge by a pilot. Let’s check back in in a few weeks and see how the students at Greendale are doing.