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Telluride, Day
2
by
Ian Waldron-Mantgani, August 31, 2002
As readers of my last Telluride article will
undoubtedly have guessed, I didn't make it to the 9.15am show of "Scarecrow".
It could have been done, but getting only two and a half hours sleep is not
a good idea at a film festival, where one must speak at least halfway cogently
to the dozens of people one meets, and must sit in the dark to watch movies.
Getting up early to cram in a bunch of shows is pretty pointless if you end
up sleeping through them.
Ah well. A morning movie unseen, and the 10pm
screening of "Ken Park" missed so as to avoid another overly late night.
But what a day nonetheless. Where to begin? The day's events are trying to
tumble onto the page; I shall leash them by attempting to go through them
in chronological order.
The first film of my day was the 2pm show of "Bowling
for Columbine", which came from Michael Moore, director of the great "Roger
& Me" and author of "Stupid White Men". Moore is a wonderful satirist,
and his film started as expected, with archive footage assembled as provocative
political humour and interviews with folks who don't realise the ironies
of their own speech and end up making their own cases look bad. The movie
is a documentary about American gun culture, and why the United States has
such a high rate of firearm-related crime. It also delves into tangents about
the hypocrisy of weapons manufacturers who claim to be defending a peaceful
nation, when American foreign policy has often subverted third-world attempts
at democracy and directly caused many of the terrorist problems that Mr.
Bush currently finds himself so urgently attempting to crush.
Moore would not have made the film if he had been
a fan of the way his countrymen use guns, but "Bowling for Columbine" does
not simply edit together footage to back up predetermined theories. The
conventional argument that gun availability is the cause of the problem is
surprisingly debunked, when Moore goes to Canada and finds an enthusiastic
gun culture with little resultant violence. The idea of poverty as a cause
is looked into, but we get specific examples rather than obvious liberal
rhetoric. Corporate media news coverage ends up getting a real bad rap, as
Moore looks at the emphasis that American television puts on violence, and
how it goes to create a culture of misery and fear.
The irony of "Bowling for Columbine" is that its
demonstrations of a fearful society are in themselves overwhelming and scary.
But in a way the movie simply argues for common sense, asking that unnecessary
reporting of misery be avoided if it's only to make a quick buck and that
organisations such as the National Rifle Association have some sensitivity
in their campaigns, as opposed to holding a rally in Colorado a week after
the Columbine High School shootings. I laughed hard at the sarcastic passages
of the movie, but Moore drifts into some of the most sombre scenes of his
career, and certain moments had tears suddenly jetting from my eyes. There
is some hope on offer: The result of Moore's trip to K-Mart head office is
a triumph of simple activism. The film itself is one of tremendous power
and importance, put together in such an accessible way that if it ever got
out and reached a mass audience, it would certainly change
America.
I left "Bowling for Columbine" to discover that
I was somewhat trembling and short of breath. Seeing the film was less like
being in an audience than at some sort of protest rally, and it's one of
those pieces that leaves the mind groping for solutions on how to go about
solving societal problems. The film had such impact that I felt guilty about
the idea of enjoying festival adventures.
Even in that shaken state, though, today was too
action-packed for Ukey to remain in a grim daze. After the screening I met
up with Roger Ebert, one of the best of all film critics and a long-time
email correspondent. We drank iced tea, shared travel stories and impressions
of the festival atmosphere, and couldn't help but rehash how great Peter
O'Toole was when receiving his onstage tribute. As we were leaving the
café, a high school student asked Roger for his autograph, and he
insisted that she take mine as well, introducing me as, "One of the best-known
film critics online." Salman Rushdie is in town, and I'm the one giving
autographs. Something is out of whack here, but complaints are not
forthcoming.
I met Rushdie briefly, shooting the breeze about
functional stuff outside the Sheridan Opera House, and I shot some more breeze
with New York Times film critic Elvis Mitchell while standing in a coffee
line. I also finally got the guts to go and shake the hand of great German
director Werner Herzog. Telling him breathlessly in a loud Scouse voice that
I saw "Fitzcarraldo" when I was seven years old, and that it was one of the
first art pictures to make an impression on me, he seemed a little startled
by my enthusiasm. I am reassured by the knowledge that the guy made pictures
with Klaus Kinski for two decades, and therefore could not have been too
freaked out.
The name-dropping is shameless, yes, but it's
not that I'm getting starstruck. Herzog notwithstanding, the conversations
here are relaxed. This is not a festival in which hooting crowds, business
deals or paparazzi play roles, and many of the experienced festivalgoers
to whom I have spoken made sure to speak that fact with cherish and awe.
The word "special" seems to be the one most commonly spoken about Telluride,
while Sundance and Cannes are said to be too overwhelming to actually be
pleasant. Folks are here for no more complex reason than love of
cinema.
This evening was spent at the 7pm tribute to Paul
Schrader, and as with O'Toole last night, the event took place in the tiny
but cute Sheridan Opera House, where a selection from the honouree's films
was shown, followed by presentation of the Silver Medallion. We saw scenes
from such pictures as "Blue Collar", "American Gigolo", "Cat People", "Mishima",
"Light Sleeper" and "Affliction". Schrader got his award and spoke a few
thanks, and then we got a look at his new film. "Auto Focus" features Greg
Kinnear as Bob Crane, star of the hit 1960s television show "Hogan's Heroes",
who finds himself hooked up with Willem Dafoe, playing one of the first men
to develop and sell videotape technology.
The two guys hang around together at the same
time Crane gets famous. Tempting women start appearing while the excitement
and fascination of video bonds the men, the inevitable result being a
self-destructive addiction to taped sex parties that doesn't seem like it's
engulfing or even frequent until far after it gets to be a way of life. "Auto
Focus" is beautifully shot and engaging throughout, if not its director's
best. Much of the stuff involving career disintegration was done far better
in Schrader's screenplay for "Raging Bull", although the new film does have
remarkable stretches, mainly involving the dynamics of Kinnear and Dafoe's
friendship. The trajectory of addiction can be seen here, except what the
characters get hooked on does not involve substance abuse but overindulgence
on escapism and promiscuity, and the development of a co-dependent relationship
that gets more unhealthily extreme the longer it goes
unadmitted.
The performances in "Auto Focus" were terrific:
Dafoe flashed that intense, fascinating face and engaged me immensely, while
Kinnear did a surprisingly effective job of gradually crumbling, and revealing
a dark side I would never have predicted him to possess. After the show,
of course, I shook Schrader's hand, congratulated him on the film (which,
while not great, is worth seeing) and got him to sign my DVD of "Blue Collar".
It had to be done.
On the way back to the hotel, I was told by some
longhaired dude that Jesus loves me, to which I responded sincerely that
I'm sure Jesus loves him too. Somehow I got chatting with the fellow, and
listened to stories of rainbow worship celebrations in the woods, before
we agreed to pray for each other's peace and happiness and wish each other
a pleasant evening. Other noteworthy encounters include my chats with the
last two Democrats in Utah, the woman from Florida to whom I insulted Jeb
Bush (and found support from her husband) before discovering she was a
Republican, the charmingly dedicated bookstore owners from upstate New York,
the groovy lady at the hot dog stand and the woman from California whose
four preteen companions spoke with a clarity, passion and knowledge of film
that both amazed me and got me in genuinely involved
conversation.
Have I left anyone out? Probably.
Tomorrow should include looks at the restored
print of "Singin' in the Rain", Valeria Golino in "Respiro", David Cronenberg's
"Spider", Lynne Ramsay's "Morvern Callar" and a meet-up with Michael
Moore.
Am I writing like too much of a gushing fanboy?
Sue me.
COPYRIGHT© 2002 Ian
Waldron-Mantgani
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