THE THIN BLUE LINE - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Criterion Unleashes Classic Morris Doc

In anticipation of the upcoming 2015 Toronto Hot Docs International Festival of Documentary Cinema, here's my review of the new Criterion Collection DVD/Blu-Ray release of the classic Errol Morris documentary The Thin Blue Line. YOUNG FILMMAKERS (MAYBE EVEN A FEW SEASONED ONES) WHO ARE FORCED TO GO THROUGH THE DOG & PONY SHOWS DURING PUBLIC PITCH SESSIONS @ FILM FESTS (OR INFURIATING PRIVATE MEETINGS OUTSIDE THIS RARIFIED PURVIEW) MIGHT WELL RECOGNIZE A FEW CHOICE RANTS CONTAINED HEREIN AND/OR EVEN LEARN A FEW THINGS, LIKE, FOR EXAMPLE, HOW GREAT MOVIES ARE REALLY MADE (OR WORSE, NOT MADE).

The Thin Blue Line (1988)
Dir. Errol Morris

Review By Greg Klymkiw

There are many stupid things filmmakers have to put up with from those who hold the purse-strings. The worst, I think, is what documentary filmmakers have to go through - facing down (mostly) idiot "commissioning editors", the lofty title many dimwit broadcasters enjoy lobbing about like so many balls on the tennis courts of their respective power positions. These puffed-up pea-knuckles require - nay, DEMAND - from said filmmakers, a clear narrative structure for the documentaries; blow-by-blow treatises which guarantee, at least on paper, what the final movie will be. More often than not, these sycophantic blowhards, who purport to know what their viewers want, are looking for "sexy" nuggets which can be boiled down into bite-sized log lines not much bigger than the meagre sections of the brains they attempt to valiantly make use of.

This is what Errol Morris faced at the beginning of his life as a filmmaker. These, of course, were in the days when there was no real independent industry and the opportunities to finance documentary cinema, at least in America, was relegated to whatever pittances could be squelched out of public educational broadcasters. Even those bastions of artistic nobility required guarantees as to what they'd be getting.

The problem, of course, is you don't always know - especially in documentary film - which way the winds are going to blow when you're documenting something.

Those shifting sands might actually involve finding the story.

"Tut-tut," most commissioning editors chide, "God forbid!"

Or life itself might generate a better film than what was originally pitched.

"Impossible," the commissioning editors insist. "After all, we've had a hand in shaping your film in these early stages and we're ultimately the real artists."

Or the explorations of documentary filmmakers might even affect change.

"It's what we demand!" the commissioning editors confirm. "That's why we make sure fuckers like you do as we tell them to do before you can get a dime out of us."

And here was Errol Morris, finally deciding to chuck it all and give up making films at all. For three years, he worked as a private investigator - not bad training for ANY filmmaker, never mind those of the doc persuasion, but Morris knew he needed to make films again. The story is legendary. As he describes in one of the fantastic extras Criterion provides on the DVD, Morris hears about an utterly appalling human being employed by the State of Texas to ensure that convicted murderers get the death sentence rather than life in prison.

The jury had to be provided with proof "beyond a reasonable doubt" that the "probability" of the convicted man or woman to commit deathly acts of violence again was not only high, but pretty much a guarantee. And who could guarantee such a thing? Why, none other than Dr. James Grigson, a much-beloved psychiatrist with the monicker "Dr. Death." Morris pitched a documentary about this clown and his financiers bit upon the bait greedily.

Once in Dallas, Morris discovered something else. One of the men Dr. Death would proclaim to be a worthy recipient of the death penalty, might actually be innocent and was about to be railroaded into an electric chair by a number of not-too-bright and ambitious members of the State prosecution, law enforcement and judicial team.

This is what became The Thin Blue Line, one of the greatest American documentaries ever made. From beginning to end, you experience a complex murder mystery wherein one Randall Dale Adams, a long-haired drifter was charged and convicted of a murder he didn't commit. Utilizing all the powers of cinematic art, Morris provides us with a gorgeously shot and tautly edited story which has us on the edge of our seats and increasingly fuels our anger and frustration as we experience the endless traps set to condemn the wrong man.

Blending effective dramatic recreations, penetrating interviews, wisely selected archival news footage, Weegee-like stills and a classic, pulsating original score by Phillip Glass, The Thin Blue Line forces us as viewers to perch nervously on the edge of our seats with mouths agape. (I'll never forget first seeing the film during a Gala screening at the 1988 Toronto International Film Festival wherein, during moments of silence or quiet, you could hear a pin drop in the packed-to-the-rafters cinema unspooling the picture.) Even knowing the outcome of the events depicted, my recent viewing on the Criterion Collection home entertainment version, yielded a similar effect, but one which was enhanced by the stunning transfer and the benefit of my own age, life experience and exposure to similar contemporary miscarriages of justice.

It's an important and dazzling movie. What began as a project to appease the financial powers that be, morphed by breaking all the rules into a picture that did far more than present a telling indictment of the judicial system, but a movie that saved an innocent man's life - an innocent man who had spent 12 years in prison, most of them on death-row until one year after the film's release when the charges were dropped and he went free.

Think on this well as you watch the film. More importantly, think on the tenacity and brilliance of Errol Morris. Most of all, if you're a filmmaker, let it empower you to make films that are not merely ephemeral, but films that confound all expectations and lack of vision displayed by the powers-that-be - a film that will live now and forever.

And maybe, just maybe, save lives.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** 5-Stars

The Criterion Collection director-approved DVD and Blue-Ray of The Thin Blue Line includes all the aforementioned virtues in addition to an HD digital restoration, supervised by director Errol Morris and producer Mark Lipson, with 2.0 surround DTS-HD Master Audio soundtrack on the Blu-ray, a great interview with Joshua Oppenheimer, director of The Act of Killing, an NBC report from 1989 that covers Randall Adams’s release from prison, a fine essay by film scholar Charles Musser and a stunningly designed new cover by Peter Mendelsund.

FEEL FREE TO PURCHASE THE FILM DIRECTLY FROM THE AMAZON LINKS BELOW AND IN SO DOING, CONTRIBUTE TO THE ONGOING MAINTENANCE OF THE FILM CORNER:

In USA and the rest of the WORLD - BUY The Thin Blue Line - HERE!

In Canada - BUY The Thin Blue Line HERE, eh!

In UK BUY The Thin Blue Line HERE

EXPOSED - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Cutting Edge Beth B Delves Into Burlesque World

In anticipation of the upcoming 2015 Toronto Hot Docs International Festival of Documentary Cinema, here's my review of the brand-new Zeitgeist Films DVD release of Exposed, a tremendously insightful and entertaining doc on the world of contemporary burlesque by the legendary cutting edge New York "No Wave" underground filmmaker Beth B.

Exposed (2013)
Dir. Beth B
Starring: World Famous *BOB*, Julie Atlas Muz, Mat Fraser, Rose Wood, Dirty Martini, Bambi the Mermaid, Bunny Love, James Habacker, Tigger!

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I've always loved burlesque. As a healthy, young lad growing up in Winnipeg, I was surrounded by the finest in this magnificent form of entertainment thanks to a crusty old booking agent by the name of Gladys Balsillie who managed a stable of formidable talent on constant view in only the finest gentlemen's clubs of my old winter city.

Known famously as "Gladdie's Girls", these ladies were no mere strippers, but featured performers who put on super-cool shows with props, costumes, jokes, storytelling and even narrative arcs to their dances. The greatest of these ladies was the incomparable June Tracy, a ribald, full-figured octogenarian beauty who spun deliciously dirty tales through her craggy, chain-smoke-charred voice pipes. Not only could she twirl one tassel-adorned breast at a time, she oft-performed her famed bubble bath act in a claw-footed tub and then, always ended every show with a series of vigorous bows and the best exit-line ever: "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she'd belt out and then, after a perfectly-timed pause, "…Thank you, relatives!"

Beth B's wonderful film Exposed, took me back to those halcyon days and reminded me how disgusting many of the clubs have become since the implementation of lap dancing, private dancing and the addition of dark V.I.P. rooms which are little more than whorehouses. In recent years, Canada began to bring back old-fashioned burlesque, but unless you live in Toronto or Vancouver, it's awfully hard to see.

Of course, always ahead of the curve, it makes perfect sense that since the beginning of the 21st Century the creative sluices opened up for a number of New York-based performers to take burlesque into truly transgressive directions and Beth B is clearly the filmmaker for the job of immortalizing it on film. A vital part of the late-70s-early-80s New York "No Wave" of cinema (whose members included Amos Poe, Jim Jarmusch, Sarah Driver and others), she brings her eye for alternative visions as well as her well-honed craft to a film that was shot over a few years.

B's picture is a lovely cinematic alternative to this dazzling, live performance/burlesque art and focuses upon eight spectacular performers who continue to strut their stuff - not in sleazy "gentleman's clubs", but most often in (occasionally sleazy) super-cool venues where the acts are presented with all the bump-and-grind one would expect, plus the addition of genuine performance art of the highest quality. The work is satirical, political and downright cerebral. The performers are first-rate entertainers who continually confound traditional notions of sexuality, gender and body-type.

We're taken backstage, into the homes and hotels, as well as the bedrooms of these eight dancers. B's camera allows them all to present who they are as both artists and people. Then, there are the performances which are gloriously shot and cut, offering humour and food for thought, but most of all, they are just plain sexy as all get out. Not a single man, woman and transgendered performer is bereft of sex appeal and Exposed is easily one of the best showcases for this loin-stirring and noggin-inspiring work.

I loved each and every one of these people and part of this comes from who they are as human beings, but another part comes from B's point of view - she brings humanity and love to every frame of the picture so that it's also deeply and profoundly moving.

It's especially cool to see the brilliant actor/performer Mat Fraser celebrating his sheer sex appeal by "normalizing" his physically challenged thalidomide-affected arms and hands. He does this by using his natural gifts as a performer, but also by infusing his arms with all manner of sex-drenched aplomb and gymnastics. It's also cool to see his deeply loving relationship with his partner Julie Atlas Muz, and why not? He's a major hunk and she's a total babe and they're both brilliant performers in their own right.

What's not to love?

Rose Wood, an astoundingly intense transgendered performer is equally compelling - he's a tower of power in all respects and we eventually even get to see the results of his breast augmentation surgery which adds an amazing element to his act - we're talking hunka-hunka-burning-love here.

Then again, that pretty much describes the entire, glorious experience of Exposed. It's without question one hunka-hunka-burning-love of sheer cinematic joy. It might well be the definitive documentary on contemporary burlesque.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** 4 Stars

Exposed is available on DVD via Zeitgeist Films.

FEEL FREE TO ORDER THE FILM DIRECTLY VIA THE AMAZON LINKS BELOW AND ASSIST IN THE ONGOING MAINTENANCE OF THE FILM CORNER:

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PORTRAIT OF JASON - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Stellar Milestone Film and Video Blu-Ray of the legendary Shirley Clarke Doc focusing on early 60s Gay African-American Raconteur

In anticipation of the upcoming 2015 Toronto Hot Docs International Festival of Documentary Cinema, herewith is a review of the Milestone Film and Video Blu-Ray of their Shirley Clarke restoration series featuring one of the greatest documentaries ever made: Portrait of Jason (screened during the 2013 Hot Docs festival) and now available to own. See this important work NOW and possess it FOREVER.

Ingmar Bergman proclaimed Portrait of Jason as being “the most extraordinary film I’ve ever seen in my life.” Its first screening in 1967 included an audience of Tennessee Williams, Norman Mailer, Andy Warhol, Arthur Miller, Elia Kazan, Ruby Dee, Ossie Davis and Terry Southern.

In spite of this, decades passed, yielding little more than a film that disappeared - so cast away that the original elements were thought to be lost, thoroughly and utterly untraceable. The prints that existed, crude 35mm blow-ups to begin with, were so worn and scratched, they were beyond salvation.

After a painstaking search that took years, Dennis Doros and Amy Heller, God's Gifts to saving what was thought to be unsalvageable, eventually found and identified mislabeled “outtakes” as the original 16mm inter-positive negative of Portrait of Jason.

For this, we must all feel beholden to these efforts.

Portrait of Jason is with us now and here to stay.

Forever.

Portrait of Jason (1967)
Dir. Shirley Clarke
Starring: Jason Holliday (aka Aaron Payne)

Review By Greg Klymkiw

To be gay in America right now shouldn't be so fraught with hate and invective, but attitudes and legislation in many pockets of the Red, White and Blue still seem so frustrating and backward. As such, gay bashing and murder are still a real threat.

To be Black in America right now is to also be a target of hate-filled repressive castigation, often ending in murder at the hands of racist police.

To be Black and Gay in America in 2015 - well, let's not even go there - especially not states like Alabama, Indiana, Mississippi or, say, Arkansas, to name but a few. Stay away. Stay far away. Don't believe for a moment that any useless amendments (or lack thereof) made to their boneheadedly hate-filled legislation will do anything to stem the tide of hatred.

Shirley Clarke's Portrait of Jason, a stunning, groundbreaking feature documentary has always held a place of importance in both cinema and, most notably, in its power and insight into what it must have been to be Black and Gay in American during the 1960s. First released almost fifty years ago, it's a window into racial and sexual politics as presented by one of the most fascinating subjects one will find in that period of documentary film. Clarke's picture will indeed have equal resonance in today's era of intolerance; maybe even more so, in light of the aforementioned current conditions plaguing much of America, land of the not-so Free.

Restored and released by the visionary Milestone Films and Video, the film's importance to the art of film and gay history can't be stressed enough. Current attitudes towards both the gay and of-colour communities that still exist in so-called "progressive" societies means, due to Milestone's commitment to saving, preserving and showcasing forgotten and/or lost works, that this vital film can now be experienced by whole new generations of audiences all over the world and, no doubt, for generations to come.

Portrait of Jason is the essential cinéma vérité doc that focuses upon the irreverent gay American houseboy, hustler and wannabe cabaret perfomer, Jason Holiday. Shot over the course of one very long night in Clarke's home in the legendary Chelsea Hotel in New York, the picture is essentially a monologue performed by her old friend as he tells the story of his extraordinary life with equal parts humour and sadness.

Captured in glorious standard-frame black and white 16mm film stock, the camera never leaves the realm of Jason save for cuts or fades to black and occasionally, to sound with no picture when the camera needs to change film rolls. This real exigency of production led to a superb, imaginative editing approach to the picture. Clarke uses the blacks as breathtaking exclamatory bridges between the various segments, which provide an indelible series of transition points in the "narrative" flow of the work itself.

Stylish, dapper and adorned in his trademark heavy-black-framed coke-bottle lenses, often armed with a fortifying drink in one hand and cigarette in the other, Jason recounts both his philosophies of life and extraordinary life story. For good measure, he tosses in plenty of hilarious impersonations and jokes. These are the bountiful maraschino cherries on the - ahem - ever-so delectable Chocolate Holliday Sundae.

His tales begin entertainingly and amusingly enough, but as the film progresses, Jason adds copious reefer ingestion and booze swilling by the bucketful, until the whole affair slowly unravels into a veritable Walpurgisnacht.

What we learn during the 105-minute confession seems mostly truthful, albeit tempered by Jason's abilities as a born raconteur. He gives us snippets of his childhood, his relationship with parents and other family, in addition to friends, employers and lovers, life on the streets, in the baths, in the bars and in the homes of those whom he worked for as a houseboy" (and the various permutations - mostly implied - of what that entailed). He shares his secrets in the arts of hustling, cajoling, stealing, "borrowing" and making his way through life with as little effort as possible.

"I'm lazy," he declares, "I've always really wanted to jump into it, but I kept avoiding it somehow. I always made an excuse for accepting other people's problems and putting down my own. I always became this one or that one's flunky - anything to keep from facing what I really wanted to do and now, I want to do it."

Doing it won't be as easy as he thinks.

His first order of business is a moniker makeover. Jason's given name not only brought back "unpleasant memories", but led to states of deep "despression." Changing his given name of Aaron Payne to the decidedly flamboyant "Jason Holliday" not only helped to erase (or at least suppress) the past, but ultimately gave him the strength to pursue his dreams.

"If the name rings a bell to you, makes you feel well, then take the name," he states emphatically when describing his epiphanies in San Francisco's famed Gay Mecca of Castro Street, a magical place where he met way too many cool "cats" with "hip" names, that he decided his own rebirth was in order.

Hence, a new name.

"I was created in San Francisco," he says with pride, then, with a smile, "and San Francisco is the place to be created in. Believe me!"

By the time Jason is in front of Clarke's camera, he's left San Francisco to be back in his beloved hometown of New York. Here, Jason hopes to rekindle his dream of being a nightclub performer. As Clarke's film proves, he's imbued with more than enough talent to do so and most notably, he's certainly not without material. However, he has one hurdle to overcome - not wanting to work. He relays an anecdote about a close friend who works as a teacher in the public school system; she's so devoted to teaching that after work, she goes from house to house in her neighbourhood teaching kids who either don't go to school or need the kind of additional tutelage and attention they don't get in school. What she says to Jason is as inspiring to him as it is a tool in which to morph his notion of hard work into doing as little as possible.

"One day she said something to me that was really hip. 'Jason', she said, 'everyone in New York has a gimmick. Mine is teaching school.' And from her I learned that mine was hustling."

Jason, of course, prides himself on the diverse nature of his skill. "I have more than one hustle. I'll come on as a maid or a butler; anything to keep from punching the clock from 9-to-5, because every time I've punched that clock it's been a job that's such a drag it makes you sick, and what I really wanna do is what I'm doing now [in front of the camera] and that is to perform."

In the same breath, he subtly drops the aforementioned subject of "performing" and brilliantly segues into a whole new patter. Well, it's an old patter, really, but Jason's crafty enough to know that everything old becomes new again. "I'm scared of responsibility," he continues. "I'm scared of myself, because I'm a pretty frightening cat, as people who know me will tell you." He's quick to elaborate: "I don't mean any harm, but the harm is done. A friend of mine keeps telling me that I'm always going to find a way of fouling it up, but I'm always trying to get in there and pitch." Then, just as smoothly and brilliantly, like he's been doing standup comedy for decades, he segues into a very telling, but funny story about seeing a psychiatrist:

"These head shrinkers are very interesting cats. Sometimes they let you talk. They keep wanting to know who you sleep with. Someone asked me, 'What do you do? ...Do you please them?' I say, "If I don't please them, it's because I'm not trying."

THEN, he uses this to leap into a riff on sex:

"I've spent so much of my life being sexy, as you can see!" he cheekily exclaims with the flourish of a runway model's twirl of the head, until, with his ever-impeccable timing, the requisite self-deprecation and a winning smile, he returns to the theme of his sloth: "Lord knows, I haven't gotten anything else done."

Jason is clearly gifted and it's to Clarke's credit that she's made this film if only to capture Holliday's crazy genius and by extension, fashioning a macrocosmic view of a life and lifestyle which feels at once, locked in time and yet, replete with resonance to our modern world.

He describes one of his employers as "a tall, lanky, sad looking blonde from Alabama." With giddy delivery he recalls, "She'd say 'Jason, fix me some of that chicken.' They always want chicken, cuz, of course, all coloured folks know how to fix chicken, so I'd be in the kitchen, frying the ass off this chicken, 'Yas'm, I'd say.'" He then takes a deeply racist slur and turns it into a joke: "One time she says, 'You know Jason, I never really much liked niggers, but you're the first one I ever really cared for.' And I said, 'Well that's very sweet of you, I guess that means I should have this job for a very long time."

As masterful as Jason's delivery is, it's tempered with seep sadness: "I think as a house boy I really suffered" he admits with genuine sadness before flipping it around with: "But this hasn't all been a waste. They think you're just a dumb, stupid little coloured boy who's trying to get a few dollars. They think they're gonna use you as a joke, but the real joke is this: who's using who?"

By expressing deep pain over the prejudicial views assailing him at every turn, he's clearly able to turn the tables on his oppressors. Though it doesn't seem like mere rationalization, one gets the sense that the tit-for-tat is probably more one-sided; that the notion of empowerment is imbued with a high degree of self-delusion. This surely speaks to anyone and everyone who has been the target of deep-seeded hatred and sought to fight back, only to find that they're using a shield to repel the blows that in fact, have virtually no genuine resonance upon the attacker.

Clarke deftly takes hours upon hours of footage and recreates a powerful dramatic arc in which Jason, by his words and actions, eventually takes his shield and transforms it into an ostrich hole of drug and alcohol abuse, and in so doing, Clarke captures an encapsulation of generations upon generations of prejudicial abuse and its effects upon even the most accomplished and intelligent human beings who were, and frankly, continue to be targets of ignorance.

This has got to stop. One hopes a fifty-year-old film will have the requisite power to do so.

As important as the film itself, is its restoration. Milestone Film and Video's work earned the company's founders Amy Heller and Dennis Doros a Special Award from the 2012 New York Film Critics Circle for preserving "the work of pioneering indie filmmaker Shirley Clarke." The greatness of Clarke's Portrait of Jason cannot be underestimated, nor, frankly, can the painstaking work of Heller and Doros.

The film must be seen by as wide an audience as possible and the Milestone Film and Video Blu-ray should be in every home of anyone committed to great cinema as well as work that stands as a testament to those who fought, lost and won in the battle for dignity and the most basic human rights.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** 5-Stars (for both the film and the stunning Milestone Film and Video Blu-Ray)

The Milestone Film and Video Blu-Ray of Portrait of Jason includes: Where's Shirley? (25 mins) a lovely, heartfelt documentary from Milestone's original crowd funding plea to have the film restored and detailing a bevy of important information about the painstaking efforts to bring the film back into the public eye, The Lost Confrontation (7 mins), Jason in Color! (2:30 mins), Trailer (2 mins), Jason: Before and After (1:30 mins), Butterfly (1967, 3:34 mins) Shirley Clarke in Underground New York (1967, 9:37 mins), Jason Unleashed (Audio outtakes. 35 mins), Pacifica Radio Interview with Shirley Clarke (1967, 53 mins), The Jason Holiday Comedy Album (1967, 54:00 mins, audio) and SDH Subtitles

Read the original Film Corner crowd funding plea for the film's restoration in 2012 HERE

Feel free to read my RAVE reviews of other great Milestone Film and Video releases: ON THE BOWERY HERE. My Review of THE DRAGON PAINTER can be read HERE. And be on the lookout for my full-length Film Corner reviews of RAGS AND RICHES: THE MARY PICKFORD COLLECTION HERE, CUT TO THE CHASE!: THE CHARLIE CHASE COLLECTION HERE and ALFRED HITCHCOCK'S "BON VOYAGE" & "ADVENTURE MALGACHE" HERE.


Don't forget you can order PORTRAIT OF JASON from the Amazon links below and in so doing, contribute to the ongoing maintenance of the Film Corner:


In USA and the rest of the WORLD - BUY Portrait of Jason - HERE!

In Canada - BUY Portrait of Jason HERE, eh!

In the UNITED KINGDOM - BUY Portrait of Jason - HERE!

THE LAST EXORCISM - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Effective mock-doc with devil worship.

In anticipation of the upcoming 2015 Toronto Hot Docs International Festival of Documentary Cinema, herewith is a review of one of my favourite horror mock-docs.

The Last Exorcism (2010)
dir. Daniel Stamm
Starring: Patrick Fabian, Ashley Bell, Iris Bahr, Louis Herthum, Caleb Landry Jones and Tony Bentley

Review By Greg Klymkiw

I suppose we have to thank The Blair Witch Project for all the mock-doc shaky-cam thrillers of the past 15 years. I don't even like it much. The movie had a vague visceral effectiveness upon a first viewing, but the real test for all these pictures is how they hold up on repeated viewings. Blair Witch doesn't hold up to that kind of scrutiny at all.

Much like other one-trick-pony efforts such as Christopher "One Idea" Nolan's Memento or the reprehensible pile of filth Man Bites Dog, the aforementioned titles live and then die a miserable death because so much of them rest on the shoulders of their gimmick. In fact, a much better film in this genre, might well be the patriarch of them all, Jim McBride's utterly haunting and creepy David Holzman's Diary which, after over forty years still has the power to blow an audience away as it has way more going for it than its conceit (though its central figure is indeed the walking, talking embodiment of conceit).

My personal favourites of the recent forays into this form of telling creepy stories are Bobcat Goldthwait's magnificent Bigfoot chiller Willow Creek and Oren Peli's stunning Paranormal Activity. Both pictures are rooted in humanity against extraordinary backdrops and bear up under repeated scrutiny.

And now we have, from producer Eli (The Bear Jew) Roth, a very effective horror picture directed by Daniel Stamm which, presents its nerve jangling tale of demonic possession with a reasonable degree of intelligence and style. It's also held up nicely to repeated viewings.

The Last Exorcism is an apparent documentary about preacher Cotton Marcus (Patrick Fabian), famous and popular man o' God who began his career (much like the real-life Marjoe Gortner) as a child evangelist and worked his way up to being a lower drawer Jimmy Swaggart. Cotton supplements his earnings as an exorcist, which is where he's really made his mark, but recent events have tested his faith and he invites documentary filmmaker Iris Reisen (Iris Bahr) to enter his life - warts and all.

Cotton receives numerous requests to perform exorcisms, but his belief in their effectiveness has more to do with the healing powers he wields through his performance. He goes so far as to rig the exorcisms with simple, but really compelling special effects. He randomly picks an exorcism request off a pile of letters on his desk and off the crew goes to watch him do his stuff. His hope is to expose himself, to expose all exorcists, to expose his own lack of faith. He doesn't believe in the devil and he doesn't believe the exorcism has any special Heavenly significance. He believes in his skill to heal, but due to some recent tragedies where other holy men have committed exorcisms that have traumatized the "possessed" - so much so that they have actually died - he hopes to expose the absurdity and inherent danger in such practices, especially by those not as skilled as he.

He soon enters the world of the Louisiana backwoods Sweetzer family who have been plagued with livestock mutilations and very odd behaviour from 16-year-old Nell (Ashley Bell). Cotton is convinced the problem is psychological and he exorcises, with the help of his bag of tricks, the demon from the girl's soul.

Sooner than you can say "The power of Christ compels thee!" it becomes obvious that there's more to the girl than meets the eye. She's obviously suffered a severe trauma - possibly sexual abuse or... she really is possessed by a demon.

Horror ensues. And a lot of the horror in the picture is extremely effective - lots of creepy crawly stuff and numerous all-out shit-your-pants pyrotechnics. Most impressively, these are bereft of CGI and delivered by the actors.

Ashley Bell is especially astounding in a performance that is highly physical. The gymnastics of self mutilation are rendered by Ms. Bell and Ms. Bell alone. She's not only brilliant physically, but she plumbs the depths of an incredibly tortured young woman with the sort of skill that signals a great talent to keep an eye on.

Equally impressive in the acting sweepstakes is Patrick Fabian as Cotton. Bringing the right balance of showmanship, charm and sleaziness to the table and as the film progresses, a very strong sense in the character's rekindling of faith, Fabian makes us believe as readily as he makes his "patients" believe. It's to the film's credit that faith still plays an important role in the story. While critical of organized religion, it follows the intricacies of Cotton's own spiritual struggles and ultimately, places stock in this, or if you will, his belief in God.

One of the more astounding elements is that the picture not only features lots of magnificent exorcism, but in what must be a first, we also get some mega-devil-worship dolloped lovingly into the mix. Maybe I'm wrong about this, but I don't recall seeing anything (or at least anything good) where we are plunged into a movie about exorcism that then pulls the delicious, tantalizing card of devil worship.

I love devil worship.

And let me guarantee you, The Last Exorcism features devil worship so profoundly disturbing that it rivals some of my favourite devil worship sequences in such classics of the genre as Hammer's The Devil Rides Out, The Satanic Rites of Dracula, and Race With The Devil.

This is one of those movies where horror aficionados can do the math on all the expertly handled moments of major-league delivery and determine the picture's ultimate worth - especiallywhen the picture is good even beyond the math.

So here's the tally: Mutilation (of animals and humans), provocative sexual overtones, lots of "in-the-name-of-Jesus" prayers and Latin incantation. One can never get enough of that. And last, but not least, one of the most harrowing devil worship sequences replete with a bloody, goo dripping deformed demon baby with blood gushing geyser-like from the nether regions of the woman trussed to the unholy altar of Satan.

Seriously. What's not to like?

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***½ 3-and-a-half Stars

The Last Exorcism is available on DVD and BluRay via E-One.

GLEN CAMPBELL: I'LL BE ME - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Portrait of Alzheimer's & Artistry

In anticipation of the upcoming 2015 Toronto Hot Docs International Festival of Documentary Cinema, herewith is Greg Klymkiw's review of James Keach's poignant and powerful feature documentary Glen Campbell: I'll Be Me which details the effects of Alzheimer's Disease upon the legendary country and western star as he embarks upon a farewell tour. Released in Canada via VSC, the film is now playing at The Bloor Hot Docs Cinema and opening in Vancouver May 11, 2015 at the VanCity with further playdates to follow.

Glen Campbell: I'll Be Me (2014)
Dir. James Keach
Starring: Glen Campbell, Kim Campbell, Ashley Campbell, Cal Campbell, Shannon Campbell, Jay Leno, John Carter Cash, Sheryl Crow, Steve Martin, Paul McCartney, Bill Clinton, Nancy Pelosi, Bruce Springsteen

There's always the debate in one's mind with documentary cinema as to the balance and/or separation between "artistry" and "subject matter". Some films within the genre work in spite of less-than-exemplary artistic/stylistic vision when the subject matter is so compelling that it supersedes all aesthetic considerations. Glen Campbell: I'll Be Me could almost fall squarely into this critical rumination, but the fact that it is a fairly straightforward document of extraordinary events, still allows it worthy consideration as solid, if not genuinely great filmmaking. The fact that director James Keach expertly focuses upon the task at hand is hardly a reason to dismiss the picture as art of a very high order. Besides, not every documentary film can, should and/or will be Malik Bandjellou's Searching for Sugar Man. Keach's powerful and poignant work, in spite (or because) of its veracity, delivers the goods and then some.

It doesn't get more harrowing, touching, uplifting and yes, even downright entertaining than this. When the legendary country and western star Glen Campbell was diagnosed with the extreme progression of dementia known as Alzheimer's Disease (wherein memories eventually fade to less-than-zero), he not only recorded new material, but embarked upon what would, even under normal circumstances be a gruelling Farewell Concert Tour. He also agreed to allow actor-director James Keach unfettered access to virtually every aspect of this undertaking and, in fact, his life. The desire was, on one hand, for Campbell to surround himself with family, friends and colleagues to do what he loved doing best, and on the other, to provide an important document of the effects of the disease so that the film, album and tour could be an important tool in creating far more support for the research necessary to attack this horrendous disease.

The resulting film will not only appeal to Campbell's multitude of fans, but anyone and everyone who has either suffered with the debilitating effects of the disease upon loved ones, but the general populace at large. The film succeeds more than admirably in all these respects; it's a tremendous concert picture and behind-the-scenes look at mounting this challenging event in the face of a horrendous affliction.

Utilizing concert footage, new interviews, sequences at home and in clinics, plus a choice selection of archival footage, Glen Campbell: I'll Be Me succeeds as one of the best documentaries about the creative process ever made.

We see intimate sequences with Campbell and his gorgeous, devoted wife Kim, watching home movie footage in which he continually expresses confusion as to what and whom he's watching while she patiently reminds him of what these key events in his personal and professional life are. There is an astonishing visit to Washington, D.C. wherein Campbell and his smart, total-babe and mega-talented daughter present a plea for more federal funding of Alzheimer's research. There are two very sweet interviews - one with Steve Martin recounting his experiences as a junior writer on the hit TV variety series "The Glen Campbell Goodtime Hour" and the other with Bruce Springsteen, not only extolling Campbell's artistic virtues, but revealing his own personal experiences with seeing close loved ones being afflicted with Alzheimer's. One of the most alternately moving and hilarious moments is when Paul McCartney visits Campbell backstage to tell him how much he loves him while Campbell looks at the former Beatle with a bemusedly blank expression as in, "Who is this guy, again?" and essentially, though very politely regarding McCartney, as if he were some anonymous member of the singer's humungous public fan base.

It's the music, however, that soars and even more extraordinary are the words of shock from any number of leading doctors in the field of Alzheimer's as they express how someone at Campbell's juncture in the disease should not be so skilled and downright brilliant when he's on stage performing live. Campbell transforms from the addled, befuddled old man backstage and at home into a graceful senior practitioner of musicianship when facing adoring audiences. Campbell does prove to be "un-rehearsable", a bit too chatty and occasionally confused when the cue cards for lyrics are not where he expects them to be. Not that these matter to the live audiences captured on film, nor for that matter to us as we're watching the movie - they all seem an integral part of Campbell's appeal, showmanship and unwavering joy in performing.

And damn! Sometimes it's easy to forget what an astounding guitar player, entertainer and songwriter Campbell was and, certainly during the time of the film's shooting, still is. Campbell even displays a common tic amongst Alzheimer's patients when they're feeding on positive sensory vibes and once it's identified as such, we're even more moved and transported to a kind of grace when we see it as he performs. (One of the most astonishing and heartrending scenes has Campbell on guitar performing "Duelling Banjos" with his brilliant, radiant daughter Ashley on banjo - star Daddy and star-in-the-making Daughter - it's pure movie magic.)

Yes, this is a straightforward document, but as such, it's an ideal and skilful approach to material which needs no stylistic directorial flourishes, but rather showcases a filmmaker intent upon capturing rare truths. My hat is off to James Keach for his unerring, unwavering eye.

What a wonderful picture. I'm so glad it exists and look forward to seeing it again and again.

So too, will you.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: **** 4-Stars

Glen Campbell: I'll Be Me is a VSC release currently playing at The Bloor Hot Docs Cinema in Toronto, to be followed by added playdates across Canada including the VanCity Theatre in Vancouver.

CAST NO SHADOW - Review By Greg Klymkiw - The Horror of abuse leads to…HORROR!

Cast No Shadow (2014)
Dir. Christian Sparkes
Starring: Percy Hynes-White, Joel Thomas Hynes, Mary-Colin Chisholm

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Creepy is good, and there's more than enough creepy creeping creepily about in Christian Sparkes' creepy feature length directorial debut, the, uh, well, you know, creepy Cast No Shadow. Set against the isolated, and yes, creepy backdrop of Canada's mega-inbred capital of baby seal mass murder, the picturesque province of Newfoundland, it's a film infused with the kind of horror that was pioneered by legendary producer Val Lewton when he headed up the genre division of RKO Pictures in the 40s.

Now, don't get me wrong, movie geeks, though Sparkes' picture flirts with occasional shards of greatness, I'm not saying it holds a candle to the best Lewton work, for instance: The Cat People, Curse of the Cat People, The Seventh Victim, I Walked With a Zombie and The Body Snatcher, but it's definitely on a par with Lewton's lesser entries (for Lewton, "lesser" means pretty goddamned good) like, for instance, Isle of the Dead, Bedlam, The Leopard Man and The Ghost Ship. The bottom line is that Cast No Shadow isn't the kind of picture you're going to kick out of the sack for eating crackers, if you follow my drift.

Val Lewton, of course, pioneered the notion of finding chills in the modern world and, in fact created near-fairy-tale like shockers which plumbed the depths of what scared people the most - mental illness, religious cultism, poverty, infidelity, loneliness, ignorance and, among other transgressive assaults on humanity, superstition. Visually, his work found monsters, not so much literal monsters, but those created by the imaginations of both the characters and audiences - often nestled in pure darkness, shadows and shades of grey.

Not that I saw any direct influence and/or Lewton-esque homages in Cast No Shadow, but it's definitely dipping its Newfie toes into similar black lagoons of horror. (Thank Christ no rotting, waterlogged baby seals bent on vengeance pop out of the murky waters surrounding "The Rock", otherwise I might have genuinely needed a few trips to the water closet.)

On the surface we're handed the simple, but compelling tale of Jude (Percy Hynes-White), a young boy living in a squalid shack masquerading as a home with Angus (Joel Thomas Hynes) his mean, abusive single Dad. Jude whiles away his time exploring the forests and craggy shorelines, mostly alone, but sometimes accompanied by a fair-weather friend or two.

What seems to really scare Jude to his bone marrow are the things which lurk in the dark woods and caves of his not-so idyllic rural environs. There are, you see, witches and trolls galumphing about. Given that the picture's set in Newfoundland, this isn't at all hard to swallow. The beatings Jude suffers at the hands of his Dad or the town bullies (future baby seal hunters, no doubt) seem like kid's stuff to our young protagonist. His waking moments alone in the woods, as well as his life-like dreams are fraught with grotesque creatures of the night.

To most of the local citizenry, including a smug, annoying constable, Jude's just plain apple-don't-fall-too-far-from-the-tree bad, not unlike, for example, his nasty Pappy. If truth be told, when the lad isn't tripping out in the wilderness or his secret lair of magic and make-believe in the crawlspace below the rickety, old family home, he is indeed up to all manner of "no-good". He is, more often than not, lashing out at the redneck bullies who make his life miserable by bashing his slender frame to a pulp. In a particularly satisfying moment, Jude even makes use of a pair of brass knuckles that he's stolen. (If anything, I personally hoped he'd be using them more than once.)

When Dad is inevitably hauled off to the hoosegow, Jude is rightly terrified that he'll be snapped up by the Child and Family Services creeps (which, we all know, don't do a whole lot of good other than shoving at-risk kids into even more vile at-risk situations). He runs off deeper into the maw of the neighbourhood and hangs out at the home of Alfreda (Mary-Colin Chisholm) a craggy, creepily-friendly and highly literate hermit who once was the region's trusted midwife, but now lives in lonely exile within her ramshackle shack - a kind of inbred Newfie Miss Havisham.

Here, for a time, Jude finds solace.

Alas, the secrets of the night, the deep, dark tragedies best forgotten (or better yet, repressed), begin to rear their ugly heads as horrifically as those of the trolls and witches populating the dense corners of the terrible beauty surrounding all who live in this alternately bucolic heaven on earth and roiling, ever-churning pit of hell.

Life in rural Newfoundland is no tray of tea and crumpets, let me tell you.

Though Cast No Shadow has a few misses which negate its hits, the picture has one of the best scripts in a Canadian film in some time. Written by Joel Thomas Hynes, the film's co-star (and real-life father of the film's child-star), it's a script that keeps you constantly guessing. Everytime you're about to wade into familiar waters, Hynes tosses in a big stone which causes the kind of ripples that keep you in a state of never quite knowing where you're going or what you're looking at. When a picture veers in directions I don't expect it to, I always get a nice tingle of happy gooseflesh since this is a rare treat in the movies these days.

I loved the tone, pacing and overall trajectory of the film's style and narrative. I especially appreciated that the movie seems to not be targeted at any specific demographic, confounding all notions and formulas one is normally inspired to yawn over. Whether or not Sparkes and/or Hynes were influenced by the aforementioned Val Lewton seems less important to me than the fact that their picture is mucking about in a similar sandbox.

As a director, Sparkes approaches the material simply and cleanly, as well as garnering phenomenal performances from his entire cast. I have only two major nitpicks. Firstly, the "monster" elements can't really live up to the picture's low budget. I wish he'd gone for even more shadow, more darkness and more fleeting glimpses of the troll than he does. (His witch "action" is far more successfully rendered.)

I do understand why he (or whatever boneheads in the creative process that he was forced to listen to) might have avoided going the distance in this fashion, but I think it would have been more in keeping with the overall mise-en-scene.

And speaking of "going the distance", my second nitpick is that the movie seems a few hairs short of upping the ante on the more violent and yes, even blood-soaked-potential that's inherent in the picture. It tries a bit too earnestly to be tasteful when there are a couple of perfect instances for the movie to have been pitched into the Cronenberg territory of unsavoury viscera.

This is not a contradiction of my first nitpick, either. The fantastical elements rightly needed to be a bit more muted in the realm of darkness and shadow, but the realistic elements of the film's true "horrors" are practically begging to be unleashed. (Even my 14-year-old daughter, who loved the film and related strongly to the character of Jude, felt the movie needed to up the ante on a few of the deep-rooted elements inherent in the story.) That all said, I noted that the credit-crawl included a few of the usual Telefilm Canada-like suspects attached to so many Canuckian endeavours, so I'm happy to place far more blame in that direction than the filmmakers themselves.

One of the nice things about Cast No Shadow is that it manages to exceed, in terms of overall quality, originality and genuinely muted horror, a similar recent release, the ludicrously overrated Aussie film The Babadook. Jennifer Kent's limp psychological chiller, is hampered by a clunky on-its-sleeve feminist bent, an underwhelming screenplay (predictably tarred and feathered with a big old brush of been-there-done-that) and annoyingly adorned with the kind of preciousness that gets pseuds (of all persuasions) hot and bothered that they're seeing something resembling an art film dabbling in the off-the-well-worn-genre-path.

Ugh! There's nothing original about The Babadook and the only and truly horrific thing about it was how the movie features a child who is nerve-gratingly annoying and then, tables turned, a Mom who is even more aggravating than her son. (Throw in an annoying dog and the film's Trinity of Cumbersome Afflictions became even more egregious.)

Not so with Cast No Shadow. You never really know where it's headed. When it does get there, you kick yourself a bit for not predicting it, but it feels good to stuff a few boots in your own ass on that count because you know, deep-down that you've been served up a cool picture from a writer and director who have all the potential in the world to eventually knock you flat.

It's a cinematic cold cock I look forward to with baited breath.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***½ 3-and-a-half Stars

Cast No Shadow is currently in limited theatrical release via MCE. The picture opens April 3 in Toronto, Halifax and St. John's with a bevy of attached special events:

TORONTO – Carlton Cinema
April 3 – post screening Q+A w/ actor Joel Thomas Hynes, actor-writer Percy Hynes White and producer Chris Agoston
April 4 – post screening Q+A w/ director Christian Sparkes, actor Joel Thomas Hynes, actor-writer Percy Hynes White and producer Chris Agoston

HALIFAX – Scotiabank Theatre
April 3 – post screening Q+A w/ actor Mary-Colin Chisholm
April 5 – post screening Q+A w/ director Christian Sparkes

ST. JOHN’S – Cinema Mount Pearl
April 3 – post screening Q+A w/ director Christian Sparkes, Allison White

GREG KLYMKIW INTERVIEWS THE ZELLNER BROTHERS on KUMIKO THE TREASURE HUNTER

FARGO gives Kumiko hope that one day, she will be happy.

KUMIKO THE TREASURE HUNTER
starring Rinko Kikuchi
opens theatrically across Canada

An Interview with the Zellner Bros.

by Greg Klymkiw

Kumiko travels from Tokyo to Fargo in search of treasure.

Kumiko, an office girl in Tokyo, is obsessed with the movie Fargo by the Coen Bros. She has been studying it so intently that her VHS copy eventually wears out. Convinced it's a true story, she creates a meticulous series of maps to find the treasure of riches Steve Buscemi hides in the snow - IN the movie. Eventually, she embarks upon a very strange, funny and harrowingly emotional odyssey.

American cinema, more than anything, has always exemplified the American Dream. Brilliantly responding to this notion, director David Zellner and his co-writer/producer brother Nathan, have created Kumiko The Treasure Hunter. It's one of the most haunting, tragic and profoundly moving explorations of mental illness ever made - especially within the context of the dashed hopes and dreams, at first offered, then reneged upon by the magic of movies and the wide-open expanse of a country teeming with opportunity and riches.

There isn't a false note to be found in this gorgeously acted, directed and photographed movie. It is not without humour, but none of it is at Kumiko's expense and when the film slowly slides into full blown tragedy, the Zellners surround Kumiko in the ever-accumulating high winds and snow under the big skies of Minnesota. We get, as she does, a bittersweet taste of happiness - a dream of triumph, a dream of reunion, a dream of peace, at last.

THE FILM CORNER RATING: ***** 5-Stars

THE ZELLNER BROTHERS

GREG KLYMKIW: When I first saw Kumiko I had this fantasy that you guys were born and raised in either Minnesota or North Dakota, but you were born in Greeley, Colorado. I know you guys are in Austin, Texas these days, but how long did you actually live in Greeley?

DAVID ZELLNER: 
We lived in Greeley until Nathan was 9 and I was 10. We loved Greeley and Colorado in general. We were very much into the outdoors there, camping, etc. It was our formative years, and it left a big impression on us. I was sort of obsessed with the state, probably idealized it a bit, but all throughout my youth I had a Colorado state flag on my wall, the prettiest of the US state flags in my opinion.


GREG KLYMKIW: Yeah, it IS a gorgeous flag.

NATHAN ZELLNER: 
Greeley is just north of Denver, in the plains. Sort of rural. Our parents were professors before they retired, so they taught there and then later moved to Texas when we were teenagers.


COLORADO STATE FLAG

GREG KLYMKIW: When did you move to Austin?


DAVID ZELLNER: I moved to Austin to go to film school at UT. Nathan got a computer science degree at Texas A&M and then joined me in Austin afterwards.


GREG KLYMKIW: 
I'm curious, living on the plains of Colorado can't be much different that living in Winnipeg or North Dakota or Minnesota. What did all that open sky do to you guys as little nippers? Was it something you drank in like really tasty soda pop or didn't it make much of a difference until later?




DAVID ZELLNER: 
We had fond memories of winter growing up, from the first fall of the fresh pristine snow, to the end of the season when the sides of the roads were caked with stacks of oily frozen sludge. We'd never been to Minnesota prior to making Kumiko, though we had been to Japan, but the idea of a winter-set film full of snowy vast landscapes was appealing to us at least in part on a nostalgic level.

THE ZELLNER BROTHERS

GREG KLYMKIW: Where in Texas did you guys move to after Greeley? Was the terrain/topography similar? I only know Dallas/Fort Worth areas, so I'm not sure what other regions of the state look like except from westerns.

NATHAN ZELLNER: 
We moved to a university town called College Station.
 Texas is pretty big and diverse, the major difference was the weather and lack of snow. Like David said, we missed the four seasons.

GREG KLYMKIW: Aside from being, uh, American, what was your family's ethnic background?


DAVID ZELLNER: A mix, our mom's side is mostly Irish, our dad's side had a lot of folks from Transylvania.


GREG KLYMKIW: When did you guys fall in love with movies?


NATHAN ZELLNER: We grew up as VHS kids, but always going out to see movies in the theatre - a lot of the early 80's blockbusters and further expanding our film-knowledge by reading the covers of VHS boxes in video stores. We've always gone to see movies in theatres, though.


GREG KLYMKIW: Did you guys always work together creatively?

DAVID ZELLNER: We've been making films since we were little kids with VHS and Super 8 cameras. Initially it stemmed from wanting to act/perform particular characters. Not knowing what a director or producer or cinematographer was liberating. It's fun at that age because you're just blindly creating things.


GREG KLYMKIW: So I assume film school is where you might have gotten a taste of the fact that maybe filmmaking WASN'T blindly creating things? I'm also interested in Nathan's academic background in computer science - is that something that brought anything to bear upon your film collaboration with David?


DAVID ZELLNER: Film school was great, but it was one of many elements of my education. The best part was access to 16mm equipment and meeting likeminded folks, many of whom I'm still close to.



NATHAN ZELLNER: We each have different strengths, David is the primary Director/Writer and I'm the primary Producer/Editor, but because of how we have worked since kids, everything overlaps. My background is more technical, and that has helped as filmmaking has evolved with the digital age. We ended up editing this film on the same computers it was written on.

GREG KLYMKIW: Kumiko floats around like a stranger in her own land. Or am I being too much of an egghead here?


DAVID ZELLNER: It's not something we really intellectualize or even discuss with one another, we just are drawn to outsider stories on some visceral level I guess.


GREG KLYMKIW: Why do you think you are attracted to stories about outsiders?


DAVID ZELLNER: I guess because we are outsiders.

NATHAN ZELLNER: Something about viewing the world from a different perspective seems to speak to us.


GREG KLYMKIW: How did you guys come up with this story? It's based on an urban legend, right?

NATHAN ZELLNER: We first came across a blurb about it on the internet, this story everyone assumed was true about this Japanese woman who went from Tokyo to Minnesota looking for the lost fortune from the Coen Bros. Fargo. It was before social media is like today, just a small bit of information on a message board that was being passed along like the telephone game. Maybe the lack of information made us more obsessed with it, but to satiate our curiosity, we started writing a script and developing a backstory and character to solve our own curiosity about the kind of person who would go on such a quest. Years later, after a couple drafts of the script, we checked back and more info was available, debunking the original story as an urban legend. At first we were taken aback, but because we had been living with our version of the "truth" for so long it was just as valid. We liked it even more, our addition to the myth, that is.



Reported in the April 7, 2002 issue:
Takako Konishi died looking for FARGO treasure.

GREG KLYMKIW: When did Rinko Kikuchi come into the picture?



DAVID ZELLNER: We met her in 2008, we'd seen her in Babel and a few Japanese films, including a great one called Funky Forest. 

We hit it off with her right away and she immediately dialed into the tone of what we were going for, the balance of humor and pathos
.

GREG KLYMKIW: Was her involvement tied to financing the film?

DAVID ZELLNER: Her involvement helped there, for sure, but it wasn't necessarily the crux. We seriously didn't have a close runner up for the role really. Once we met her, we knew she was perfect for it.


GREG KLYMKIW: You said you had visited Japan. When? Why? (Other than making the movie obviously). Do either of you speak Japanese? 


NATHAN ZELLNER: We love Tokyo, it's an amazing city. We had visited Japan as tourists a year before we initially heard the story which, in hindsight, was probably one of the reasons we were drawn to it. We don't speak Japanese. We tried to learn it but failed.

GREG KLYMKIW: What was it like for a couple of boys from Greeley, Colorado to work in Japan?

NATHAN ZELLNER: We had a great relationship with the crew over there and they got the tone we were going for. They were on the same page and so excited to help make the same film. They helped us with some cultural questions and the language barrier. We did a ton of homework before too, especially since we didn't want to film a tourist version of Tokyo.


GREG KLYMKIW: What were some of the aspects of Fargo that inspired you guys in the writing/making of your movie?

DAVID ZELLNER: We like Fargo and the Coens' work in general, but the whole Fargo thing was inherently part of the original urban legend that we wanted to turn into a movie.


GREG KLYMKIW: Did you guys have to make contact with the Coens to get the movie made? I assume they've seen it. Have they said anything to you guys about it?

NATHAN ZELLNER: The negotiations mainly went through the studio. We had to convince the powers-that-be there that this wasn't a sequel or wanker homage or spoof, but that the film was part of the legend and a conduit to her journey. I don't think the Coens have seen it. Hopefully they will see it some day.


GREG KLYMKIW: It kinda shocks me they haven't seen it yet. Oh well. Guess they're busy or something. By the way, 
Fargo is part of a strange little group of movies I call the most Canadian movies never made in Canada and not made by Canadians. Growing up in Winnipeg seemed identical to the world of Fargo. The movie felt like it was made in my own backyard. It's something I never feel with other American movies, except movies in this weird, little sub-genre I've conjured up for myself in order to temper my inherent Canadian inadequacy. The other movies in this sub genre are Slap Shot and, of course, your movie, Kumiko.


NATHAN ZELLNER: I love hearing that feedback about Canada. We enjoy how different people have different points-of-view on the film, usually based on where they are from. I'm happy Kumiko connected with you in that way. I've always wanted to visit Winnipeg.

GREG KLYMKIW: I haven't lived in Winnipeg for 20 years, but I go back every chance I can. There's nowhere like it in all of Canada. It was, in its heyday, considered "Little Chicago". Now, it's not much of anything, but I kind of like its current state of utter decrepitude.
 It was also, of course, a cool place to be when I produced Guy Maddin's early movies.

DAVID ZELLNER: I have to say that Tales from the Gimli Hospital, Archangel and Careful were a massive influence on us. Seeing those films for the first time in the early 90's was a really formative experience. They really blew my young impressionable mind. I remember seeing Gimli Hospital, not knowing what or where it came from, other than that it had to be some ancient artifact from long ago and far, far away, and then a few minutes into the movie I see a Super Big Gulp cup in a shot. I was hooked from that point on.

GREG KLYMKIW: I'm sure Guy and his screenwriter George Toles will love Kumiko. It's opening in Winnipeg, so I'm going to insist they see it. By the way, not only are Big Gulps popular in our neck of the woods, but Winnipeg is the Slurpee capital of Canada. Anyway, one last question. Do you guys, like, live in the same house in Austin or do you indeed have separate lives?


NATHAN ZELLNER: We used to live together, but that was along time ago. We have separate lives, now. It helps to keep perspective with our work. Of course, we talk and see each other often though.


GREG KLYMKIW: 
Sorry that was, I guess, a semi-joke-question. I do, however, have this image of you two living in some kind of Austin version of PeeWee's Playhouse.


NATHAN ZELLNER: I wish we worked in a replica of PeeWee's Playhouse
.

Kumiko The Treasure Hunter is being released theatrically in Canada via FilmsWeLike. You can read the full version of my original review from its premiere at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival HERE.

Here are the venues and playdates across the country:

TIFF Bell Lightbox (Toronto, ON)
Starts Friday, April 3, 2015

Vancity Theatre (Vancouver, BC)
Starts Friday, April 3, 2015

Regina Public Film Library (Regina, SK)
Starts Thursday, April 3, 2015

Broadway Theatre (Saskatoon, SK )
Starts Saturday, April 4, 2015

Globe Cinema (Calgary, AB)
Starts Saturday, April 4, 2015

Bytowne Cinema (Ottawa, ON)
Starts Monday, April 6, 2015

City Cinema, (Charlottetown, PEI)
Starts Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Cinema du Parc (Montreal, QC)
Starts Friday, April 10, 2015

Hyland Cinema (London, ON)
Starts Friday, April 10, 2015

Revue Cinema (Toronto, ON)
Starts Sunday, April 19, 2015

The Royal (Toronto, ON)
Starts Thursday, April 23, 2015

Metro Cinema (Edmonton, AB)
Starts Friday, April 24, 2015

The Vic (Victoria, BC)
Friday, April 24, 2015

Winnipeg Film Group Cinemathque (Winnipeg, MB)
Starts Thursday, May 14, 2015