Louis Peitzman

More on the new cuddle porn: Jesse from “I Want Your Love”

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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More on the new cuddle porn: Jesse from “I Want Your Love”

A while back, I spoke to filmmaker Travis Mathews about his feature-length project, I Want Your Love. (While tha film is still in development, a demo clip is available for online viewing). In an effort to get another perspective on I Want Your Love, I spoke to Jesse, who appears in the film and in Travis’ other ongoing project, In Their Room. Jesse offered candid reflections and insight into pornography, sex in film, and staying hard throughout a shoot. Spoiler alert: “penis drugs.”

SF Bay Guardian: Before I Want Your Love, you worked with Travis on the intimate In Their Room project. How did you first get together?

Jesse: Travis asked me to do In Their Room, basically because we knew each other through a mutual friend. I remember he approached me and said he was looking for people who were just comfortable getting super expose about themselves in their own space. I’m a performance maker, anyway—it’s what I do. So I guess he just assumed that I would be comfortable with that.

SFBG: When he asked you to do I Want Your Love, were you at all apprehensive or was it something you wanted to do right away? It’s obviously a lot more explicit than In Their Room.

J: Well, it’s funny. It falls on two sides. On the one hand, I was not at all hesitant, because the project itself and the way it was pitched to me and the way Travis has been thinking about this project, is like a whole set of theories around the way sex operates in film that I’m super behind. Travis has this whole kind of sociosexual idea about their being a savvy and discerning audience that’s ready to see sex integrated naturally into the narratives that they see in film. You can see that more in European avant garde filmmaking, but not so much in the States for all sorts of systemic reasons. The reason why Travis set out to do this project was really interesting and fascinating to me, and I actually thought the story sounded really beautiful. The story of the feature is kind of this person who takes this big, intense, emotional inventory of his life in San Francisco because he’s forced to leave for any number of reasons. And that resonates with me. I’ve moved around a lot and I have a really sentimental connection to place. Place is a really big thing for me. So all that stuff was really great.

In terms of being hesitant about it being more explicit, the jury’s still out. I don’t think I really have a concept of what it means for me to be having sex on film. As a performing artist—I’m a choreographer in San Francisco, and my work is very curious about bodies and curious about bodily functions and responses and fatigue and posture and all these raw physical states. And so I work with nudity fairly frequently. So this to me is just one step further, in a sense. It’s just another exploration of the physical state. And I think I see it as that. But what I’m learning, especially with the release of the trailer for I Want Your Love, is that the way that I make something and that how it’s received by all these people who are seeing this are two very different things. And I think I might find reason to be worried in the future, but so far, I’m just kind of, deer in headlights. I don’t think I really have a concept of what it means for me to be doing this kind of work. I’ve never done it before.

Jesse from I Want Your Love

SFBG: You touched on a few things I wanted to talk about. But before we go into sex in film, I wanted to just focus on porn. What’s your take on the current state of pornography?

J: I have a lot of respect for an industry that employs as many people as it does and that, in a lot of ways, is transgressive and sex-positive. I think, especially in San Francisco, there are a lot of porn companies who are doing things that are not just about getting off, that are actually reshaping the way people think about sex. I mean, Kink.com has incredible politics. There are a lot of companies that have really great politics. But at the same time, I say I have a lot of respect for them because truthfully I don’t know a whole lot about the infrastructure of porn companies.

In terms of what I see when I’m watching porn and how it relates to Travis’ work, I don’t know if there’s a need for Travis’ work as pornography. I don’t know whether people want to keep their porn dirty and their films deep. I’m not really sure what people’s response to that will be. Apparently there’s been a response from a lot of people that I Want Your Love is like a very different and more full-bodied turn-on for them, because there’s something familiar and humble and flawed about the whole thing. But as it relates to contemporary porn, I don’t know. I’ve always just kind of seen porn as what it is, and it’s kind of like a fantasy place. I’ve never really wanted porn to be more realistic than it is for me, as a voyeur of porn. I guess it is what it is. I feel like my sexual relationships and my sexual partners and the world I’ve created there is very satisfying for me, in terms of reality. So I don’t really seek out reality. But there is a weird thing where people are projecting a lot of reality onto I Want Your Love. A lot of the comments on Butt are like, “Oh, it’s just so real. It’s like I know them. I’m in love with them.” It’s funny because, stylistically I understand that this is a little bit of a trick to make it seem more real. But there’s nothing more real about I Want Your Love than any other porn that you see, although I don’t know if we’re calling it porn.

Jesse and Brenden in I Want Your Love

SFBG: You talked about being new to this kind of exposure. What kind of response have you gotten? Between I Want Your Love and In Their Room, are you getting recognized by any strangers?

J: I mean, this probably touches on a lot of my personally psychology and insecurity, but I’ve had a really weird shadowy presence on both of these projects, which is very interesting to me. I was fascinated because on In Their Room, I received less attention or shout-outs or comments than almost anyone else in the film. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that’s a reflection of me being, like, a not attractive or not desirable figure in the movie, but there were a couple things I was curious about. One is that I had a much more sexually explicit scene than anyone else in the film. And I wondered if it was this kind of archaic idea of giving it up too soon, that I was damaged goods or something. Because it’s really interesting. I did receive notably less press or attention than almost anyone else in the film, which is funny.

And then the same goes for I Want Your Love. I mean, my scene partner in I Want Your Love, I think is a very cute, very prototypically attractive guy. For both of these films, I’ve actually been able to kind of—I don’t know if it’s a curse or a blessing. I don’t know if I should feel ugly, or how I’m supposed to feel. [laughs] But I have not actually been approached, talked about, blogged about really individually all that much. It’s always the other guys. I seem to be very neutral or unexciting. I don’t know. I just go into the studio and do what Travis asks me to do. But according to the discerning public, it’s always the others that are more interesting. [laughs]

SFBG: Let’s talk about your co-star a bit. Where do you begin building that rapport and chemistry when you’re filming an unsimulated sex scene with someone?

J: With Brenden, Brenden was someone that I was already having sex with. There was a really great, excited, very honeymoon-y chemistry between us. It was very distinctively sexually. We weren’t dating or anything like this. … Every time we would sit down and talk about new guys, it would be like, “Yeah, but honestly, I could fuck Brenden’s brains out right now and be thrilled about it.” There’s very raw, obvious chemistry. We already wanted to fuck—really, really badly.

SFBG: Well, do you think that adds to the realism people are talking about? Could they be picking up on the history between you guys?

J: Yeah, I guess so. Which makes me think about real porn and how they walk into a studio having never met their partner, and they have to just have it ready. Which then, brings up the idea of the penis drugs. Because Brenden and I, we totally have boners for each other, but then we took the penis drugs, because for a shoot, you have to do extraordinary things with your penis that you’ve never had to do in your entire life. And so, I wonder if it had been someone else, maybe I just could’ve taken a penis drug and I would have been fine.

SFBG: I wanted to touch back on the point you were making about sex in film and how that’s something you see more in European productions. Do you think American audiences are ready for this? Is it going to take more independent movies like Travis’ to push them in that direction?

J: I would say it’s difficult to comment on a question like that in the incubator that is San Francisco. We’re so colored by what the reality of the pervasive national idea is. That said, I think that we are moving toward being more ready for it. I think people need to see specific social cues of independent filmmaking in order to feel comfortable with this. I think if you hold their hand and show them things that make them feel like they’re watching—I can’t even think of an example right now. But if you give them little social cues in this work that remind them that they’re watching something that they would see at the Embarcadero Center or at YBCA—you know, people like to feel like they’re watching art. They like to feel like they’re there and they’re experiencing this thing, and they were a witness to this piece of art. So if you provide little ways for them to feel this way, I think they’ll swallow the medicine a little easier. A spoonful of sugar kind of thing.

Director Travis Mathews makes gay porn intimate, cuddly, relatable

Jesse Hawthorne Ficks
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Travis Mathews is quickly making a name for himself in the San Francisco film scene. A short film culled from his In Their Room series earned him top honors at the Good Vibrations’ Independent Erotic Film Festival last year. Now he’s working on I Want Your Love, a full-length scripted feature. Although Mathews has only completed one demo scene, the project is already generating online buzz. I spoke to Mathews about his inspiration for I Want Your Love and how the short scene fits into the bigger picture.


San Francisco Bay Guardian: The last time I interviewed you, we were talking about In Their Room. What brings you back to erotic film?
Travis Mathews: I have always liked to see people be really candid, honest, raw, intimate, vulnerable. And I think there’s a lot of different ways that you can show that and reveal that in movies, and one of the ways you can do it is through sex. But strangely, I think that’s what’s missing in a lot of porn, is that all of those things that I just mentioned are missing from porn. Instead, it’s just the very carnal “money shot” where it seems often divorced from feeling, from interpersonal relationships, and then all those other things I mentioned, like intimacy, vulnerability, honesty. I consume porn like most people do, and I myself feel disconnected from it, and I don’t really feel engaged with it and I don’t expect much from it. And I hear a lot of other people complaining or echoing similar thoughts. It just seems crazy to me that there aren’t more depictions of real people—whatever real people means—but not chiseled, “I go to the gym four hours a day, six days a week” people, having sex in a believable scenario that doesn’t seem stagey or ridiculous.

Jesse in I Want Your Love

SFBG: The scenario you present in this scene from I Want Your Love is definitely relatable—two friends who haven’t had sex with each other but are thinking about giving it a try. It’s something that many gay men have experienced. What brought you to that scene?
TM: It’s a scene that’s been stretched for the demo for a feature that I wrote. So it’s one of among a lot of other things going on, a lot of scenes and a lot of other mini-dramas. It goes back to the original thing I told you: I want to write stuff and I want to show stuff that people can respond to that feels honest to them, even if they don’t totally relate to it. Like, maybe someone hasn’t had that same experience, but it is an experience that a lot of gay men have had. I think a lot of people can make that leap, that like, “I get that. I think that’s probably something that really happens.” I’m not interested in creating big dramas that overshadow the intimacy and the more nuanced stuff.
 

SFBG: One thing I really liked about the scene is how natural it felt. Was everything there scripted or was there improvisation as well?
TM: That was all scripted. The only thing that was improvised is when they’re having sex—there’s lines when they have sex that are scripted, but the only thing that’s improvised is, there’s a moment when they’re having sex when Jesse says, “Oh, this feels so good. Oh, I like it so much.” And then he checks in with Brenden, and says, “Are you OK? Do you want more?” And Brenden says, “Yeah.” Like, really soft, and I like that a lot. But everything else was scripted. So I gave them the script for the scene and they basically memorized it, and they knew about it, and we had talked about it. During our first rehearsal, it was more of a workshop. I told them from the beginning, “I’m not so married to this script that we can’t deviate from it. I want you guys to bring parts of your real self to it, and I also want you to give me feedback on whether this feels like something you or your character would say.” So we massaged it together as a team and it was definitely at that point a collaborative effort. It was very democratic at that point. Me, Jesse, and Brenden, and my DP/producer Keith sat together and went through the script and tried out lines that I had written to see how they worked.

Jesse from “In Their Room”

SFBG: It’s impressive to me that it’s scripted, because it does feel so real. You don’t really get the sense that they’re acting.
TM: That was at the top of my list of things that I really wanted to keep an eye on, is bad acting. I feel like there’s a lot of other things that you can massage or you can hide or you can choose not to include and insert something else. But if you’ve got bad acting, it’s really hard to recover from that, I think. Because as a viewer, when I see something that’s poorly acted, I lose interest and I just don’t believe it. And I feel disengaged from it, which goes back to the problem of so much porn that tries to be cinema or tries to be like a regular movie.

SFBG: So let’s talk about casting. I know you worked with Jesse on In Their Room, but how did you decide on these guys?
TM: The first time I met Jesse was when I basically knocked on his door and went to shoot him for In Their Room. And then, we had a mutual friend in common, and then we had other friends in common, and we became friends. And I also really liked the way Jesse looked on the camera. Not necessarily physically—although I think that he’s really a sexy, handsome guy—but how the camera would catch his eye, or I would be able to catch him doing something really small that seemed to say a lot more. He’s really good at just leaning into really quiet moments that we all engage with when we’re by ourselves. He’s a performance artist, so I think that’s part of it. I also think that there’s a comfort level that goes along with that. He does it in a way that’s so natural. He knew from the beginning—we talked very little about, with In Their Room, what my intention was, but he knew what I was getting very quickly. And with his own work, he deals with issues of masculinity and things like that, so it’s not like what I’m doing is divorced from the stuff he’s doing. So he got it right away, and that was really refreshing. So I knew I wanted to work with him again, and I was starting to write this feature toward the middle of last summer, and I definitely knew that I wanted him in it in some capacity. When we went forward to do the demo, I told him about the project, I told him I wanted him in it as this character, and he was enthusiastic about it and wanted to be involved.

So then it was a process of finding the person who was going to play opposite to him. We had a casting call on Butt Magazine’s blog, and I put the word out there among boys in San Francisco. We probably had less than a dozen serious contenders, and we auditioned a bunch of people. Brenden was actually the first person that we auditioned. I had seen Brenden out and told him I was interested in having him audition again, and he did. He and Jesse have really, really good chemistry together. They can be playful and sexy together, and that was key for me. A lot of these other guys would have been great, I’m sure, some of them, but it needed to feel like—because they were supposed to be old friends or best friends—it needed to feel like they were comfortable inhabiting each other’s space, and that it was a familiar thing for them to be doing that. So that’s what I was looking for. If it felt like these were two people who had just met each other yesterday, and now they’re pretending to be close friends, it wouldn’t have worked.

SFBG: So the movie extends past these two friends, then. Can you talk a little about what’s going on in the full feature?
TM: What’s potentially confusing, I think, to people is that, you don’t have any sense in just watching the demo, you don’t have any real sense of what this whole feature is about. Or I think people think they do. But the basic log line for it is, Jesse’s character has been living in San Francisco for a decade, and for reasons I’m going to leave a little bit vague, there’s money issues and he has to leave the city. He can’t afford to live here anymore, and he’s moving back to the Midwest to live with his dad. So it’s kind of an opposite Tales of the City story where he’s not coming bright-eyed and bushy-tailed into this Emerald City where everything’s new and he’s going to experience everything for the first time. It’s like he’s done it and the thing that he’s grappling with is how much he’s failed this experiment of moving to San Francisco, or how much the city’s failed him. And the movie takes place in the last 24 hours before he leaves San Francisco. There’s a party that happens the night before he leaves, so there’s all these opportunities for these friends that are interconnected and then with himself to have a lot of quiet moments and reflection and introspection and things about what it’s been like living here, and what it means to be leaving it. There’s also a lot of opportunities for playfulness and sexy times.

SFBG: There’s a thin line between “porn” and “erotic film,” if there is one. I wanted to ask you about your reaction to the term “porn,” and also some of the more recent variations, like “hipster porn” and “mumblecore,” which are kind of contentious.
TM: Honestly, I’m kind of entertained in hearing different people label it different things, and I’ve decided—before I even released this—to not get engaged with debates or arguments or getting in a place where I’m being defensive about what it is. I feel like, I’m going to hopefully get to make the movie that I want to make, and there’s going to be sex in it, and yes, it’s going to be produced by a porn company. If people want to stop there and just label it porn, they’re going to do that. I can’t control how people are going to respond to it, so I’ve kind of let go of that. Some of these terms, I think are funny. Like, “hipster porn,” I know that that has a—what did you say, “contentious”?

SBFG: Just because a lot of people immediately reject the term “hipster.”
TM: Sure. Yet at the same time, I think if you’re somebody who’s well-tuned with the word “hipster” and you heard “hipster porn,” I think your interest would be peaked and you would be like, “What is that? I want to see that.” Although, you know, you might have a knee-jerk reaction and be like, “Ugh, hipster porn.” So I don’t think it’s as simple as it being a pejorative thing. And “mumblecore,” I love Funny Ha Ha (2003). I think it’s amazing, and I actually think “mumblecore” is a funny term. I like it. I know the guys that are sort of spearheading that whole scene kind of hate that they’re reduced to that. I like the intention of mumblecore movies. I think that they’re often really poorly executed, but I think Humpday (2009) was a good movie. I think the dialog was fantastic and it seemed real. And I also think that about Funny Ha Ha. But I mean, you go further: sort of the grandfather of mumblecore movies is Cassavetes. He would shoot things in this cinema verite style and get people to bring their real selves to their performances.

SFBG: You said in another interview that you’d like I Want Your Love to feel very San Francisco, and I was hoping you could elaborate. Why is that important to you?
TM: I come from the country, Ohio—I’m a country boy from Ohio. I don’t mean that I’m a country bumpkin, but I still feel wide-eyed and really grateful for the fact that I live in San Francisco, and that I’m able to survive here. The city has its problems, but I love living here. For a long time now, I’ve wanted to do something that was, in some ways, a tribute to the city without being cheeseball or so obvious but more nuanced. But then, I also felt that there’s a particular brand—there’s a regional gay in San Francisco. I wanted to document the people that I know in San Francisco in a way that felt authentic to me. Not in a way to be like, “Look at us, we’re so cool!” But in a way to show these guys—and there will be women in the feature, too—in the most candid way that I can show. The more I do the In Their Room stuff, or after having done that, I realized how much the guys I shot for the most part and the spaces that they inhabit just ooze San Francisco, without me trying to do that. So that was part of the momentum as I was writing the feature. I was realizing that without really doing a lot of work or without really trying to do this explicitly, I was going to be able to showcase San Francisco in a very nuanced kind of way.

You can view the demo scene from I Want Your Love free of charge at Naked Sword. Perhaps needless to say, it’s NSFW. For more information about Travis Mathews, check out his Web site.

Welcome to Elm Street: The Remake

Sue Vaughan
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Welcome to Elm Street: The Remake

I’ll say this about the remake of A Nightmare on Elm Street: it could have been worse. Yes, it’s pointless and unimaginative and producer Michael Bay should still be ashamed, but I didn’t hate every minute of it. I can’t say the same for Rob Zombie’s dreadful take on Halloween (2007) or the unholy mess that is 2009’s Friday the 13th.

Don’t get me wrong, A Nightmare on Elm Street is not good. It’s not terrible, if only because it has a few decent scares — all of which are, of course, shamelessly lifted from the original. (Tina’s death is still Tina’s death, even if her name is Kris and she’s played by Katie Cassidy.) It’s clear that this remake — like all of the other recent horror rehashings — was designed to bring new fans to the series. And how do you appeal to kids today? Lots of jump scares, apparently.

And here’s where I have to admit something: I was more startled watching the 2010 A Nightmare on Elm Street than I ever was watching the original. Jump scares are effective, because they are loud and jarring and — in this case — constant. So is the new Nightmare scary? Sure. I wasn’t exactly on the edge of my seat: it would be more accurate to say I was slumped down in my seat with my fingers in my ears. But yes, I jumped. A lot. Does that mean the remake is somehow more successful than the original? Please. I may have been freaked watching that movie on the big screen, but it’s never going to, you know, give me nightmares. In contrast, the original haunted my childhood to the extent that I had to make a pact with my subconscious never to dream about Freddy Krueger. (This is entirely true and adorable.)

Jump scares are cheap and they’re easy to avoid. When you’ve seen them once, they’re ruined forever. Good horror may employ a jump scare or two, but it doesn’t rely on them. In the 2010 Nightmare, they are relentless. I will concede that there one or two memorable visuals: Kris being tossed around in the air and dragged onto the ceiling, Nancy seeing her dead friend taunt her from a body bag, Freddy’s glove emerging from the bathtub. But wait, we’ve seen these already. Yep, they’re nearly shot-for-shot “borrowed” from the 1984 original. Lazy. Oh, and the classic shot of Freddy emerging from the wall above Nancy? Ruined by half-assed CGI. When will they learn?

The cast is passable. I’ve always liked Kyle Gallner and Thomas Dekker, and Katie Cassidy somehow didn’t turn me off forever with her role on (the remade) Melrose Place. (Actually, she was one of the few good things about that show.) Rooney Mara takes on Nancy, and she’s fine but forgettable. All of these talented young actors have the misfortune of appearing in a film that doesn’t let them do much of anything. Maybe the next Johnny Depp is among the bunch, but no one gives anything resembling a breakout performance.

And where to begin with Jackie Earle Haley’s Freddy? Haley was doomed from the moment he was cast, just by virtue of not being Robert Englund. It’s one of the major problems with this remake. No one cares who’s under Jason’s hockey mask or wielding Michael Myers’ knife. But Freddy Krueger is Freddy Krueger — accept no imitations. If the film wanted to completely recreate the character, then why use the familiar striped sweater and fedora? It only makes Haley’s status as not-Robert-Englund more noticeable. This Freddy is more brutal, to be sure, but he’s also far less fun. The nightmares he creates are means to an end, lacking any sense of irony or humor. He only speaks one pun (I know, right?), and it’s lifted shamelessly from part five. Wisecracking is essential to Freddy’s persona. Just imagine if Jason or Michael suddenly got chatty: it would be equally jarring and, well, stupid.

But, much as it pains me to admit this, Englund’s Freddy isn’t scary anymore. The franchise fell apart with sequels that were too campy to be taken seriously. Even Freddy vs. Jason (2003), which ups the gore, is mostly just silly. To which I say, so what? I’d rather have another preposterous sequel that’s messy and fun than a soulless adaptation. Or hey, no more sequels at all. Let’s make some good new horror — brutal, sharp, original. The French have been doing it for years. But I digress.

Here’s the part where I tell you to look away if you care about getting spoiled, because I’m about to give away the ending. Normally, I wouldn’t, but a) I don’t give a crap, and b) so many of this movie’s problems are located in its final act.

Let’s start with the big reveal that’s obvious after the first five minutes: the victims in the 2010 A Nightmare on Elm Street were abused by Fred Krueger as children. That’s right, he wasn’t a child killer in this version — he messed around with them instead. Now don’t get me wrong, that’s still really fucked, but it also destroys any semblance of logic the original had. (‘80s horror: not big on making sense.) In the 1984 movie, the parents had to kill Freddy before he killed more of their own. The legal system had let them down, and they were forced to take matters into their own hands. The parents here, however, never even bothered reporting Krueger to the police — they just chased and torched him. Maybe this is supposed to be commentary on our desensitization to violence or the threat of mob rule, but it’s a huge and improbable leap. Anyone who’s seen Last House on the Left — the 1972 original, damn it — knows that parents only kill psychos as revenge for murder. Eye for an eye, duh.

But more importantly, all this child molestation nonsense is icky. It’s uncomfortable for the wrong reasons. There’s a whole bit with Nancy and Quentin (Gallner) deciding that they made it all up. You know, like kids do. I’m sorry, but implying that kids aren’t to be trusted when it comes to reporting the bad touch is tacky — even if, eventually, they realize Krueger really was a creep. That scene is equally awkward, with Nancy looking through a series of dirty Polaroids taken of her at age five. The audience squirms for all the wrong reasons. This kind of shock factor is manipulative and, honestly, more distracting than anything else.

And then there’s the ending, which is similar to the original’s except somehow more nonsensical. My main issue with it? Quentin, Nancy’s would-be boyfriend, lives. This is the problem in most ‘80s horror updates. The originals almost always have one survivor, the so-called Final Girl. (Just read Carol Clover’s Men, Women, and Chain Saws, if you haven’t already.) But new horror can’t seem to do this, as though the idea of one teenage girl outlasting a movie monster is too much to believe. Instead, the boyfriend has to come to the rescue, as in the aforementioned Friday the 13th remake. How can there ever be another “scream queen” a la Jamie Lee Curtis if we keep sheltering our final girls? The slasher movie doesn’t need a hunky male hero (or Gallner, who is more cute than hunky) to protect its female lead. Perhaps, as Cheryl suggested while we were talking about this, it’s just easier for a modern male audience to identify with a dude than — God forbid — a girl. To which I say, man up and take it like a woman.

Look, I’m obviously very attached to the Nightmare on Elm Street series. I’ve spent the past week rewatching and reviewing the films to the extent that I’m (almost) burned out. And this review-turned-rant is fast approaching 1300 words. So, yes, I’m passionate and any remake was bound to disappoint me on some level. The new Nightmare may not be the worst ever, but it’s still a misguided mistake. And if I have to sit here and blather on so that New Line (a.k.a. “The House that Freddy Built,” now a part of Warner Bros.) doesn’t make another sequel — because they care — then so be it.

If you’ve read all the way through — not just this epic post, but also the ones preceding it — then many thanks. I hope Cheryl and I were able to help you remember or discover horror’s greatest series.

For now: good night, folks. Sweet dreams.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-tSvrkKx2Y

Welcome to Elm Street: Part Seven

Sue Vaughan
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Welcome to Elm Street: Part Seven

Before Wes Craven got meta with Scream (1996), he tried his self-referential hand at the Nightmare on Elm Street series. The result was New Nightmare (1994), which reunited Heather Langenkamp and Robert Englund as … Heather Langenkamp and Robert Englund. Also playing themselves: actor John Saxon, writer-director Wes Craven, producer Robert Shaye, and Freddy Krueger. Yep, that’s how he’s credited.

Where was there to go after the dreadful Freddy’s Dead (1991)? Not because of the title’s finality — see also: the so-called Final Chapter (1984) of Friday the 13th — but rather its inescapable shittyness. Part six offered more comedy than horror, with lazy deaths, bad acting, and weak puns — even by Freddy standards. But New Nightmare was a reinvention in the truest sense. It’s a film that, while far from perfect, was well ahead of its time. In fact, Craven pitched it as the plot for part three, but the studio decided against it.

That’s probably for the best. New Nightmare works well when it’s referencing its predecessors: that’s kind of the whole point. Part three would have been too soon — that film could have been clever, but it wouldn’t be full of the Easter eggs that make New Nightmare such a treat for longtime fans. And, yes, I’ve been rewatching these movies for the past week and am, in general, above-average geeky: this film works for me in a way it might not work for others. But I think that’s OK. Scream is broader (and better) because it appeals to fans of all ‘80s horror — New Nightmare is just for Freddy Krueger devotees.


Here are 20 references that I picked up on. Some were certainly intentional. Others are the product of my overactive imagination.

1.    The first few shots show the creation of Freddy’s new animatronic glove. A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) begins with Freddy fashioning his glove.
2.    At the talk show where Robert Englund surprises Heather in full Freddy regalia, he taunts the audience with, “You are all my children now,” a line from Freddy’s Revenge (1985).
3.    Heather’s son Dylan (Miko Hughes) repeats “Never sleep again” and other lines from the rhyme first heard in part one and chanted in all Nightmare films.
4.    Robert Shaye jokes, “I guess evil never dies, right?” One of the taglines to part four, The Dream Master (1988), was “Pure evil never really dies.”
5.    Heather’s husband Chase (David Newsom) crashes his car when he falls asleep and gets attacked by Freddy. Dan (Danny Hassel) died similarly in part five, The Dream Child (1989).
6.    Just as Freddy made Dan’s corpse speak to Alice (Lisa Wilcox), he has Chase talk to Heather when she falls into his coffin.
7.    Heather and Dylan’s conversation about God recalls Tina (Amanda Wyss) pleading for God in part one. Freddy’s response? “This is God.”
8.    Dylan invites Heather to join him in his dreams. Bringing people into dreams was the power Kristen (Patricia Arquette/Tuesday Knight) displayed in Dream Warriors and Dream Master.
9.    When Heather calls Robert, he’s painting freaky Freddy art. Kristen couldn’t stop drawing Nancy’s house (and Freddy) in part three.
10.    To replicate Freddy’s glove, Dylan tapes knives to his fingers. In the first Nightmare, the glove is referred to as his “fingerknives.”
11.    The phone receiver turns into Freddy’s mouth and tongue, as it did in part one.
12.    Freddy needs to cross over into our world by getting past Heather, the gatekeeper. There was plenty of talk about gates and gatekeepers in Dream Master, but to be honest, I wasn’t paying much attention to the plot by that point.
13.    Heather wakes from a nightmare with a grey streak in her hair, just like Nancy in part one.
14.    A nurse tells Heather she’ll need a pass to get into the hospital’s restricted area, to which Heather replies, “Screw your pass.” This is another line from part one.
15.    Heather reminds Dylan, “Whatever you do, don’t fall asleep.” She said the same thing to Glen (Johnny Depp) as Nancy in the first Nightmare.
16.    An invisible Freddy lifts Julie (Tracy Middendorf) into the air, then drags her up the wall and onto the ceiling. This is almost exactly how Tina died in part one.
17.    Dylan’s a sleepwalker, which is bad news in these movies. In Dream Warriors, Phillip (Bradley Gregg) suffered from the same problem.
18.    Heather tells John Saxon that Fred Krueger killed Chase. By part two, Krueger was known as “Freddy,” so this is likely an allusion to part one. Of course, that’s underscored by the TV playing a similar scene from the first movie.
19.    The references get even more overt when Heather and John take on their original roles as Nancy and Lt. Thompson, down to wearing the same clothes they had on at the end of the first Nightmare.
20.    While trying to rescue Dylan from Freddy, Heather gets caught climbing the stairs, which turn into goop. This also happened in part one.

Be still, my nerdy heart. I have to admit that New Nightmare isn’t quite as good as it could have been. Freddy’s new makeup, which is supposed to be scarier, pales in comparison to his earlier incarnations. In fact, all of the scenes involving Freddy are somewhat lacking: this is really Heather Langenkamp’s movie. Still, without this film, there would be no Scream. And without Scream — well, I don’t even want to think about that.

Welcome to Elm Street: Part Five

Sue Vaughan
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Welcome to Elm Street: Part Five

In honor(?) of the new A Nightmare on Elm Street, we’re recapping all of the Elms so far. Find more on the Pixel Vision blog.

Here’s some friendly advice — don’t be friends with Alice. She’s a nice girl and all, but she’s kind of a getting-stabbed-to-death magnet. It’s like Greta says in Nightmare on Elm Street 5: The Dream Child (1989): “The bottom line, Alice, if anyone’s trying to hurt you, supernatural or not, they’re going to have to go through us first.” Yeah, that’s not really a problem for Freddy Krueger, who’s all too happy about dispatching Alice’s friends and lovers. Souls make him strong! Hey, remember when he was just trying to get revenge? In the words of President Barack Obama, “This shit’s getting way too complicated for me.”

Part five of the Nightmare on Elm Street series isn’t all that well-regarded, but I actually like it far more than part four. Lisa Wilcox’s Alice breaks Carol Clover’s “Final Girl” model: she has sex, she gets naked, and she survives — twice! In The Dream Child, she’s transformed from the meek and mousy victim in Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master (1988) to a kick-ass mama bear. That’s right, she’s with child. The plot is really silly, though it doesn’t matter. As Cheryl pointed out, by this point in the series we’re mostly watching for the nightmares. And the ones here are great.

Let me break it down, nightmare-by-nightmare.

“Hey, Danny, better not dream and drive!” Even though he’s all charged up and knows better, Dan (Danny Hassel), a holdover from part four, falls asleep on his way to meet Alice. He hears his mom call him an “ungrateful, unmanageable dickweed” on the radio. Don’t worry, she also calls Alice a “bimbo-slut-whore.” The car turns into Freddy, Dan loses all control, and he flies through the windshield. But wait, there’s more! Dan only thinks he’s survived — a stolen motorcycle also takes on some frightening Freddy features. Dan gets a hot fuel injection (less sexy than it sounds) and finally crashes in a fiery heap outside of the diner where Alice works. Tragic.

“Bon appétit, bitch.” Greta (Erika Anderson) may not get a death sequence as extended as Dan’s, but holy crap is it gross. In the real world, her mom is forcing her to attend a dinner party where lecherous older men ogle Greta’s model figure. You know, a day after her friend dies in a terrible accident. When Greta dozes off, she encounters Chef Freddy, who traps her in her chair and shovels unfathomable amounts of food into her mouth. Soon she’s got the chipmunk cheeks from hell — the most disturbing visual since Freddy’s sleepwalking puppet in Dream Warriors. And then Alice sees Greta in her fridge, which is bound to kill her appetite for at least a few days. Long story short: Greta chokes to death and no one even tries to intervene.

“You’re not crazy.” Well, duh, Yvonne (Kelly Jo Minter). Is everyone in these movies willfully dense? Yes, they’re slasher flicks. I’m just saying it would be nice if for once, the Final Girl’s friends believed her right away. But I digress. Diving boards are scary enough as it is, but Yvonne almost gets destroyed by one when she falls asleep in the pool. Of course, she doesn’t actually die. Instead, Yvonne gets pulled into Alice’s dream, which turns out to be a stroke of good luck. Wading in a nasty tank for a while is a whole lot better than what the rest of Alice’s friends face. Though I’m guessing Yvonne feels pretty awkward about the whole “not trusting her bestie” thing.

“Faster than a bastard maniac, more powerful than a loco-madman, it’s Super Freddy!” Not gonna lie, I totally have a crush on dweeby comic artist Mark (Joe Seely). He also has The Dream Child’s best nightmare, because it’s by far the most absurd — and because I’m pretty sure it was inspired by A-Ha’s “Take On Me” video. Mark is pulled into his comic, and at first, he’s sort of OK with it. In the comic, Mark can become the Phantom Prowler, a dark and deadly vigilante who says things like, “Time to die, you scar-faced, limp-dick!” But movie monsters are just as resilient as superheroes. Even after getting shot repeatedly, Freddy is still able to overtake Mark, slashing the crap out of him. Well, a two-dimensional paper version of Mark. And not a single papercut joke. Color me impressed.

There’s other great stuff here. I love all the unnerving flashbacks to Freddy’s conception: something about the combination of an innocent nun and 100 horny maniacs freaks me out more than Krueger himself. We also get Alice’s creepy offspring Jacob (Whitby Hertford) — no offense to the actor, but he’s just … weird-looking. Oh, and Alice travels inside her own womb, where Freddy is hanging out on her uterine wall. As one does. Part five may not be as good as parts one through three, but it’s way more tolerable than Freddy’s Dead (1991), which Cheryl will be slogging through next.

Welcome to Elm Street: Part Three

Sue Vaughan
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Welcome to Elm Street: Part Three

In honor(?) of the new A Nightmare on Elm Street, we’re recapping all of the Elms so far. Find more on the Pixel Vision blog.

“Live together, die alone.” I stole that line from Lost, but it sums up A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors (1987) all too well. The remaining Elm Street kids — you know, the ones whose parents enacted mob justice on Fred Krueger — find themselves locked in a psych ward. They’re not really crazy: they’re just having bad dreams. But these teens are (mostly) smarter than their predecessors, and they refuse to go down without a fight. The “dream warriors” pick up on two important facts: there’s safety in numbers, and you can do awesome shit when you’re dreaming. I believe The Simpsons’ Ralph Wiggum said it best: “Sleep! That’s where I’m a Viking.”
No Vikings in this bunch, sadly, but these kids do have pretty nifty powers and thus a fighting chance against Freddy. In case you’re planning on assembling your own team of dream warriors — and honestly, it’s not a bad idea — I thought I’d break down the pros and cons of part three’s heroes. Yes, most of them end up dead and those that don’t (spoiler alert) are offed in part four. But hey, it’s good to know what skills to look for and what faults to avoid when you’re trying to save your ass.

Presenting the dream warriors, in the order in which they bite it.

Phillip (Bradley Gregg)
Pros: Bitchin’ ‘80s hair.
Cons: Sleepwalker. First to die, with the most disturbing death scene by far. He really doesn’t have a lot going for him.

Jennifer (Penelope Sudrow)
Pros: Has a (somewhat painful) system for staying awake. Burning oneself with cigarettes shows serious motivation.
Cons: Smoker. Thinks she’s going to be an actress — yeah, she’s one of those. And, of course, the second to die. “Welcome to prime time, bitch.”

Taryn (Jennifer Rubin)
Pros: Stands her ground. That means not putting out for skeezy orderlies. Gets the best line of the movie: “In my dreams, I’m beautiful. And bad.” Switchblades.
Cons: Attitude. Really needs to comb that hair. Pesky heroin addiction, which Freddy exploits with terrifying fingerneedles.

Will (Ira Heiden)
Pros: Nerdy charm. In his dreams, he can walk — not to mention be the Wizard Master. That’s right, he can blow up evil wheelchairs with green lightning (in the name of Lowrek, Prince of Elves).
Cons: Even as a wizard master, he’s still just a dweeb. And eventually, a dead one.

Nancy Thompson (Heather Langenkamp)
Pros: She’s been here before. Check out that grey streak: it screams “survivor.” Prescription for Hypnocil. Won’t take getting killed lying down.
Cons: Lots of baggage. Dead friends, dead boyfriend, dead mom — rewatch the first Nightmare on Elm Street if you need a refresher. Kind of naïve, inevitably. You really thought ghost dad was legit?

Kristen (Patricia Arquette)
Pros: Good at art. Marvel at her popsicle stick recreation of Nancy’s house! Does flips. Can bring people into her dreams.
Cons: Can bring people into her dreams. Hey, that’s a bad thing when you’re trying to avoid getting murdered. Poor common sense. All the Freddy fan-art is asking for it, don’t you think?

Kincaid (Ken Sagoes)
Pros: Tells it like it is, which means more great lines: “Let’s go kick the motherfucker’s ass all over dream land!” “Yo, Freddy! Where you hidin’ at, you burnt-face pussy?” Also, dreams give him super strength!
Cons: Gets thrown in the quiet room a lot, so you know he’s bad news. Nasty habit of antagonizing Freddy Krueger.

Joey (Rodney Eastman)
Pros: Knows to wake up his friends when necessary. Dream scream can break mirrors and banish the boogeyman.
Cons: But mostly quiet. Too quiet. Ball of teenage hormones, which inspires him to follow the hot nurse from hell and get himself comatose.

Dr. Neil Gordon (Craig Wasson)
Pros: The only doctor who actually believes that his patients are being killed by Freddy Krueger. Master hypnotist. Sees dead people — or dead nuns, at least.
Cons: Not a teenager. Might we say he’s getting too old for this shit? Can’t even fight a skeleton.

So there you have it. Now you can — I’m so sorry for this — pick your own dream team. And if you’d like to recruit me as a dream warrior, you should know that I’ve seen countless horror movies and know how to survive relatively unscathed. On the other hand, I’m pee-my-pants frightened of Freddy, so let’s call it a draw.

Welcome to Elm Street: Part Two

Sue Vaughan
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Welcome to Elm Street: Part Two

In honor(?) of the new A Nightmare on Elm Street, we’re recapping all of the Elms so far. Find more on the Pixel Vision blog.

A Nightmare on Elm Street, Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge (1985) is probably the most reviled of all the Nightmare movies. Which is silly, because it’s awesome. OK, there are serious continuity problems and an utter lack of interior logic. You could skip right to part three without missing a beat — in fact, maybe you should. Freddy’s Revenge works better outside the context of the series. You have to appreciate this movie for what it is: a campy, homoerotic comedy. Dark comedy, but still.

Nancy (Heather Langenkamp) has been replaced by adorkable dweeb Jesse (Mark Patton). Freddy (Robert Englund) doesn’t want to kill Jesse; he wants to—wait for it — get inside him. And if you’re wondering how this Freddy relates to the original, don’t bother. Part 2’s Freddy seems to be able to torment people who are awake. He doesn’t murder teens on his own: he has to work through Jesse’s body. Or something. Screw the plot — the fun of Freddy’s Revenge is noting all the queer subtext.

Here’s my list of the 14 gayest things in this movie.

1.    Jesse’s uber-femme scream is way more piercing than Nancy’s. Now, I don’t want to make assumptions. I’m sure lots of straight boys scream like that. But in context, it’s suspect.

2.    Jesse is terrible at sports. Again, not trying to play into stereotypes. Well, no more than the movie is.

3.    Grady (Robert Rusler) queers things further when he pulls down Jesse’s pants. Then the boys start wrestling. Coach Schneider (Marshall Bell) offers the only appropriate response: “Assume the position.”

4.    To borrow a line from Buffy, “the subtext is rapidly becoming text.” “Guy gets his rocks off like this,” Grady says. “Hangs out at queer S&M joints downtown. He likes pretty boys like you.” Smile, Jesse. Grady thinks you’re pretty.

5.    Diagram of an ass on the chalkboard. Giant snake rubbing against Jesse’s face. Paging Dr. Freud!

6.    Jesse’s dance routine evokes painful memories for gay men everywhere who recall similar embarrassments. Relatedly, I love his Lady Gaga glasses.

7.    “Schneider’s always got a stick up his ass.” Cough.

8.    Look, I’m not saying sleepwalking isn’t real. I’m just saying sleepwalking into the aforementioned gay S&M club is a little hard to swallow. No pun intended.

9.    Coach Schneider’s death scene is where things get really interesting: he’s tied up, stripped, and ravaged in the shower. Need I mention the towel repeatedly slapping his ass? Or the fact that the showerheads are obviously penises?

10.    Jesse’s beard/love interest Lisa (Kim Myers) insists that she wants to help him. I think she means “cure” him, but we all know that never works.

11.    Once Jesse does try to hetero it up by making out with Lisa, he finds himself rudely interrupted. See, Freddy’s tongue is in his mouth.

12.    Where does he run? To (shirtless) Grady’s room, of course. This leads to the film’s most surreal exchange yet: “Something is trying to get inside my body.” “Yeah, and she’s female and she’s waiting for you in the cabana. And you want to sleep with me.”

13.    It doesn’t stop there. “He’s inside me,” Jesse whines. “I’m scared.” Just relax. “He’s inside me and he wants to take me again!” That Freddy — he’s insatiable!

14.    Fast-forward to Lisa’s intervention. “I love you, Jesse,” she says. Then she has the audacity to kiss Freddy, and you better believe he freaks. (Ew, girls.)

So in the end, Lisa’s love destroys the evil (read: queer) Freddy. A sadly homophobic twist to this otherwise gay romp. How would I have ended Freddy’s Revenge? Krueger realizes he’s just a metaphor for repressed sexuality and scampers off to part three, where he can be legitimately scary again. Meanwhile, Jesse and Grady ride off into the sunset, and any further bodily penetration is completely consensual.

Chatting with “The Yellow Handkerchief” star Eddie Redmayne

Sue Vaughan
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Chatting with “The Yellow Handkerchief” star Eddie Redmayne

English actor and model Eddie Redmayne isn’t yet a household name, but he’s achieved rising star status with a string of much lauded roles in indie and mainstream films. After playing Edward Wilson, Jr. in The Good Shepherd (2006) and murderous son Tony in Savage Grace (2007), he returns to American film as colorful outcast Gordy in The Yellow Handkerchief. I spoke to Redmayne about getting a handle on his strange character, which meant doing road trip research and adopting a Southern drawl.

San Francisco Bay Guardian: The character of Gordy is a rather unusual one. How would you describe him to someone who hadn’t seen The Yellow Handkerchief?

Eddie Redmayne: Good question. I would say he is an open-hearted eccentric. He has spent his entire life as an outcast. He’s trying to find his own way, so he’s never fit in really. But he has an open heart, which is often misunderstood.

SFBG: So what drew you to the character?

ER: What drew me to the character was how utterly ridiculous it was that they would consider the idea of an English actor to play the part. When I read it, I thought that’s the most absurd thing in the world, I will never get it. So I went into the audition without a sort of care in the world, assuming that it was madness that they would consider me. I suppose what drew me to the part was how far from me he was.

SFBG: Is that a challenge for you, playing American parts? You’ve kind of shifted back and forth — do you see yourself doing more of that in the future?

ER: For me, what I love about my job is, I love storytelling. And if the story’s a good one to tell, then I’m incredibly proud to be a part of it, whether it’s English, American. It’s neither here nor there, really. I found this one a specific challenge and working on the accent was challenging. I had a great dialect coach. And also you feel a responsibility when it’s someone so far from where you are. But you have to actually go under the skin of it. So I did go down to Louisiana and do a road trip from Oklahoma through the Osage nation reservation and then down into New Orleans, so at least I could get a sense of the geography and the kind of places this guy was growing up in.

SFBG: How much of that were you able to use in creating Gordy’s backstory?

ER: Well, I don’t know if you remember the [sketchbook]. That was something that, when I did my road trip, I collected myself. I went and used all these disposable cameras and took photos and did drawings and messed around. Which was a lot of fun, and a way of building up a backstory for who he was and who his dad was and what his life story had been. For the audience, it’s kind of extraneous, I suppose, but for me it’s important that I knew where he was from.

SFBG: I wanted to commend you for your performance in The Yellow Handkerchief, but I also thought you were great in Savage Grace. You seem to play these characters who aren’t always relatable or even very likable to an audience. They’re interesting, but they’re not necessarily people you’d want to spend a lot of time with. So how do you find that balance in making them sympathetic but also difficult?

ER: [laughs] I know what you mean, and certainly with Tony in Savage Grace, that film wasn’t written as a psychological discussion as to how this person had ended up there. It was a cold detachment on what this life was, and what happens when relatively talented people have so much money that it catalyzes inertia almost. There’s nothing to do with your life because you don’t have to do anything. I suppose what I try to do is not to judge the characters that I play, and just present them honestly and hope that, certainly more so in Yellow Handkerchief, that the audience does eventually, despite feeling alienated and isolated from this guy to begin with because of his quirks and his eccentricities, that eventually they do see that there is an openness they can relate to.

SFBG: Going back to The Yellow Handkerchief, I wanted to ask for your opinion on why this unlikely trio forms. Obviously there’s some attraction on Gordy’s part when it comes to [Kristen Stewart’s character] Martine, but what else is there that links them together?

ER: For me, the film is about chance, really. It’s about chance and circumstance. And what I love is, it hopefully feels like this is a story going on in the world that the camera stumbles across, travels with, and then lets go. It’s really about the truth of those moments in life that it is through moments of luck or passing or who you bump into on the street or whether, specifically in Yellow Handkerchief, a rain storm causes these people to end up in a car together for three days. It’s as simple a conceit as that. But I think it plays truthfully in its idiosyncrasies almost.

SFBG: Can you talk about developing chemistry with your co-stars, William Hurt and Kristen Stewart? How did you form that bond, both on-screen and off?

ER: Well, what was wonderful is, Kristen is magnetic and an incredibly wonderful person, very open and lovely, and we got on very well form the outset. William is someone I’ve admired for a long time and have worked with on The Good Shepherd, although I’d never acted with him. What was great is, firstly, we had two weeks rehearsal, which is rare on film and something that William insists on. So we got to know each other. But also, three of us sat in a car in the incredible heat in Louisiana, passing through these extraordinary landscapes. It’s a way to bond quite promptly, and so the chemistry built really through spending an intense, really quite intimate time together.

SFBG: I wanted to close by asking what’s next for you. You’ve done your fair share of theater, so I was wondering if you might be returning to the stage anytime soon?

ER: Actually, I open a play on Broadway [on March 11] with Alfred Molina. It’s a new play about Mark Rothko, which we just finished a run of at the Donmar Warehouse Theatre in London. It’s called Red, and it’s about Rothko and his assistant. So I’m lucky enough to act on Broadway in two weeks time.

The Yellow Handkerchief opens Fri/5 in Bay Area theaters.

The importance of being earnest

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The importance of being earnest

FILM Say what you will about films adapted from Nicholas Sparks novels: there’s no denying they attract some genuine talent. Channing Tatum and Amanda Seyfried know that many will dismiss Dear John as a “chick flick,” but both believe there’s more to the movie than that. “It’s not just Channing Tatum without a shirt on,” Seyfried insisted during a recent visit to San Francisco with her costar. “It’s a real movie. It has a real message. It has a really good theme. I think everybody’s going to leave feeling a little inspired.”

And while Tatum admitted it’s likely not the kind of film he’d go out and see with his group of male friends, he maintains that the story will appeal to a wider audience than just young girls. “It’s the ultimate date movie,” he said. “I really do think people will go and like it for that.”

Talking to Tatum and Seyfried, it’s clear that these are two actors committed to their work. With their careers on the rise, they’re receiving plenty of offers. That’s why both express the importance of playing characters they can connect with. For Seyfried, the role of Savannah in Dear John was one she’d been waiting for. “When this script came about, I thought, ‘Wow, how amazing would it be to play a romantic lead.’ That’s like my dream,” she explained. “I wanted to be Claire Danes in Romeo + Juliet (1996) when I was 12. This is finally my chance to inspire other young girls to be in love.”

Tatum plays John Tyree, the third soldier he’s taken on after roles in Stop-Loss (2008) and G.I. Joe (2009). He’s had a lifelong “fascination with the military and what it takes to be a soldier.” But his interest in Dear John reflected the film’s treatment of its soldier character, which focuses more on his relationships than on wartime violence or politics. “We try to take a lot of the war and soldiering out of it,” he said. “Any time we could take John out of a uniform or not show him in a military atmosphere, we did.”

But while Dear John‘s leads enjoyed their experience filming the movie, don’t expect to see the pair doing the same thing next time. They’re looking for variety: eclectic roles that will surprise audiences. “We all want to be challenged in our jobs,” Seyfried said. “It’s more satisfying at the end of the day when you’re connecting with somebody you don’t know.”

DEAR JOHN opens Fri/5 in Bay Area theaters.

Mockumentary, true love

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Mockumentary, true love

QUOTABLE CULT CLASSIC I think Libby Mae said it best: Corky St. Clair has a vision. Or at least, Christopher Guest does — and since he cowrote, directed, and starred as Corky in Waiting for Guffman (1997), I’d say it’s fair to make the connection.

That vision (Guest’s, not Corky’s) became a cult classic, and it’s screening Jan. 31 as part of SF Sketchfest. Star Fred Willard will be on hand to relate his experience filming the mockumentary masterpiece. But because I don’t get to go on stage and talk about my relationship with Waiting for Guffman, I’m taking this opportunity to write it all out. You’re welcome.

Guffman wasn’t Guest’s first mockumentary — that would be Rob Reiner’s classic This Is Spinal Tap (1984), which costar Guest also cowrote. But it did usher in a new era for the genre, as well as an increased appreciation for improvisation. (Let’s not forget that most of Guffman is ad-libbed by its actors.) Guest has released more mockumentaries with many of the same cast members: Best in Show (2000) and the underrated A Mighty Wind (2003), plus the Hollywood satire For Your Consideration (2006). But Guffman has always been my favorite.

Maybe it’s the theater lover in me. I can’t think of a movie that better captures the passion (and yes, sometimes absurdity) of amateur productions. Corky and his actors are so damn committed to Red, White and Blaine — the play within the film — that you can almost overlook its flaws. I wouldn’t really want to watch Ron and Sheila ham it up for two hours, but look how much fun they’re having!

There’s also a charming simplicity to Guffman that doesn’t appear in Guest’s other mockumentaries. It’s not about rock stars or famous folk musicians. It doesn’t have canine costars. But like other quality documentaries — mock or otherwise — Guffman makes the mundane compelling. I care about Corky, no matter how hilariously misguided his dream may be. (“Stool Boom”? Really?)

“There’s a good reason some talent remains undiscovered,” the tagline notes. I suppose that’s true. Still, I’ve always been grateful that Red, White and Blaine gave these oddballs a chance to shine. No — spoiler alert — the long-awaited Guffman never shows, but that doesn’t mean our beloved characters won’t achieve fame eventually. As Corky puts it, “It’s like in a Hitchcock movie, where they tie you up in a rubber bag and throw you in the trunk of a car. You find people.” Well said.

“SF SKETCHFEST: AN AFTERNOON WITH FRED WILLARD AND WAITING FOR GUFFMAN”

Sun/31, 2 p.m., $15

Christopher B. Smith Rafael Film Center

1118 Fourth St,, San Rafael

(415) 454-1222

www.cafilm.org

False Idols

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False Idols

119-pop.jpg
Guardian illustration of the Jonas Brothers by Matt Furie and Aiyana Udesen

DECADE IN MUSIC Forget what you’ve heard: stars aren’t born — they’re made. Pop music over the past decade has been defined by the music industry, with standout stars manufactured to be, well, standout stars. We’ve reached the point where the biggest names are chosen by reality TV, the media, and, more often than not, the Disney corporation.

Does that sound cynical? The past 10 years have by no means represented a dearth of good pop music. But it’s impossible to reflect on them without acknowledging the massive influence of American Idol, a show that emphasizes and glorifies the artificial production of pop stars. Sure, it’s found plenty of legitimate talent (try to avoid Carrie Underwood), but that doesn’t downplay its role as an assembly-line for fame.

We came into this millennium with boy bands facing their inevitable, and long overdue, decline. The Backstreet Boys went on hiatus in 2002, but let’s face it, that was more of a formality than anything else. (Remember 2000’s Black and Blue [Jive]? Yeah, me neither.) Something had to fill that void. How convenient, then, that American Idol debuted in June 2002.

"This is American Idol," Ryan Seacrest emphatically declares at the start of each episode. On the surface, the show is about letting America choose: winners are selected by texted and phoned-in votes. But the contestants are shamelessly molded by the judges and producers, told how to dress, how to act, and — of course — what to sing. I’m sure this isn’t much different from what has always gone on behind the scenes, but American Idol was the first program to show us just how inauthentic pop music can be, and to add a false veneer of democracy to the package.

There have been several success stories, depending on how you define success. First season winner Kelly Clarkson continues to maintain a thriving career, though much of that has involved a process of reinvention. Former contestant Jennifer Hudson won an Oscar for Dreamgirls, but only after she’d sufficiently distanced herself from the show. (Ask producer Simon Cowell how he feels about that.) Finally, there’s the most recent runner-up Adam Lambert, the queer alternative to squeaky-clean winner Kris Allen.

As a launching off point, American Idol offers unparalleled opportunities. But to make the more lasting pop impression, singers have to find their own niche and, in their own way, rebel. It’s comforting to know there’s still room for self-expression. The machine continues to pump out idols, but the occasional burst of creativity manages to find its way through.

At least, to some extent. It’s hard to stay optimistic about the future of the genre when one of the biggest pop stars of last year, Taylor Swift, epitomizes the mundane. Bubbly and fun but nothing special, her "country" crossover appeal is simply an affected twang. And her success? Thanks to Kanye West’s interruption of her acceptance speech at MTV’s Video Music Awards, Swift found herself cast as a victim by the media. Were those tears in her eyes when Kanye stole the mic, or was that twinkle the knowledge of how far his faux pas would take her?

Meanwhile, Disney continues to promote its own brand of actor-singers. The tradition is nothing new. Let’s not forget that Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, big from the start of the decade, are former Mouseketeers. It’s clear that the Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus have talent — whether or not you like their music — but there’s something disingenuous about their wholesome personas. (Let’s not forget Miley’s controversial photo shoot. She has a bare backside, you guys!) Purity rings aside, they’re as much industry creations as anyone American Idol has spit out.

Perhaps I’m being naïve. The music industry’s role in pop music is a longstanding tradition, but never before has the mechanization been more obvious, or aimed at a younger audience. My hope, then, is for a decade full of mold-breakers like Lady Gaga, whose freak act may not be new but is still more exciting than most anything else out there. And as for those mom-approved wax figures? Let’s just wish they make like Icarus and fly too close to the sun.

Ask, don’t tell

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Ask, don’t tell

POP STAR ON FIRE Let’s get one thing straight — despite what his album (For Your Entertainment, RCA) and single proclaim, Adam Lambert is not here for your entertainment. Well, sure, he’s a performer, and as such he has certain obligations to his fans. But that doesn’t mean he exists solely for our benefit. If he did, we’d be able to mold him to our liking, creating either a sexuality-defying glam rock god or, to use a Rufus Wainwright term, the gay messiah.

Lambert is neither of those things, simply because people aren’t that easy to define. And yet, this affected tug-of-war has garnered plenty of media attention. The problem is that it doesn’t account for Lambert as a person — or as a musician.

It would be naïve to suggest Lambert didn’t ask for media attention, but he certainly never asked to be pinned down. Now, through no doing of his own, he’s been thrust into a lose-lose situation. If he appears with scantily clad women (as he does in his recent Details spread and in the "For Your Entertainment" music video), he’s too straight. If he, er, commits to gay by getting down with his bassist, he’s offensive to the mainstream.

In an open letter to Adam Lambert, Out Magazine editor-in-chief Aaron Hicklin laments that Lambert’s record label requested that his interview not be "too gay." Problematic? Most definitely. It’s shameful and upsetting that anyone would try to curb Lambert’s enthusiasm for manparts. But I found Hicklin’s letter equally bothersome. "You’re a pioneer," he writes. "An out gay pop idol at the start of his career. Someone has to be first, and we’re all counting on you not to mess this up."

Excuse me? Did you just tell Adam Lambert that he has a responsibility to please every gay person in the country? (No jokes, please.) That’s a pretty big weight to put on one guy’s shoulders. Not to mention that it severely inhibits his freedom of expression. Give Lambert some space to figure out his own shit. That goes for both an overprotective label and an overidentifying gay fanbase. I understand the urge to hold him up as a gay role model, but maybe that’s not what he had in mind.

Moreover, this controversy neglects the spectrum of sexuality that we queer people are supposed to promote. That’s why we use the word "queer": many LGBT men and women feel that the labels society has created for us just aren’t sufficient. Look at Lady Gaga, an artist for whom Lambert has frequently expressed admiration. Gaga came out as bi, then recanted — not because she has any problem with being bisexual, but because she doesn’t want to be defined. She’s queer (I doubt she’d argue that), and she’s awesome, but no one’s asking her to be the poster child for bisexual women. She’s a free bitch, baby.

So let’s step back. Adam Lambert just released his first album, and it’s pretty damn great. He’s openly gay and that hasn’t hurt his record sales. There’s a lot for the queer community to be happy about here, whether or not he chooses to be our spokesperson. If he does decide to be the gay messiah, I’m sure we can all get behind that. (Again, no jokes.) And if he decides to keep it fluid, I think that’s worth celebrating, too.

Hey, as long as the music’s still good.

Lights, camera, kink!

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a&eletters@sfbg.com

For most of us, erotic film is more a means to an end than an event unto itself — not to mention something to be enjoyed in private. This month, Good Vibrations offers a prime opportunity to break free from that conception and celebrate erotica in a thoroughly public way. On Sept. 17, the Good Vibrations Independent Erotic Film Festival returns to the Castro Theatre: two hosts, 11 finalists, and countless displays of kink, fetish, and good old-fashioned perversion.

According to festival director Camilla Lombard, Good Vibes received 50 submissions from all over the world. What was once regional has become international, and the formerly one-night event is being spread out across an entire week. Starting Sept. 12, Good Vibes is hosting a series of events, including a "Blue Movie Night" and a screening of the classic The Devil in Miss Jones (1973) — with Miss Jones herself, Georgina Spelvin, in attendance.

The climax (no pun intended) is the Sept. 17 Castro Theatre screening, hosted by Peaches Christ and Dr. Carol Queen. Audience members will vote on the short films, which range from softcore to hardcore, sexy to sexier. The linking characteristic of these pieces is their objectivity — it’s not about what the mainstream porn industry says is hot. It’s up to the filmmakers and, naturally, their audience to decide.

Travis Mathews’ In Their Room finds its eroticism in the reality of male sexuality rather than in the act itself. Mathews interviewed a group of BUTT magazine readers in their bedrooms, getting his subjects to uncover themselves — literally and figuratively.

"I think we’re so desensitized in the traditional realm of what’s erotic and what’s pornographic that it just becomes not sexy," he explains. "The things that are interesting to me in porn are the little glimpses of things that are real or are authentic or mess-ups."

Though more explicit, Let Me Tell You John Cameron Mitchell by Paul Festa is equally unconventional. His piece was edited down from his audition tape for John Cameron Mitchell’s Shortbus (2006). A "remix" of the original, Festa’s short fits with the festival’s theme of subjective appreciation. As he puts it, "When you remove what you thought was the heart of it, it actually gives the reader or viewer something to do."

And then there are films with no nudity at all, like Nara Denning’s Neurotique No. 4, a strange silent movie that hints at the erotic but remains essentially chaste. Denning shares a sentiment similar to Festa’s: "I left it kind of open for [the audience] to interpret."

Unless you’re an open-minded pansexual hornball, there’s a good chance you won’t find all 11 films arousing, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Good Vibes intends their fest to be about choice and diversity, not about getting off — though standing O’s (pun fully intended) are not discouraged, of course.

GOOD VIBRATIONS INDEPENDENT EROTIC FILM FESTIVAL Sept 12–17, various venues and prices, www.gv-ixff.org/film

‘Manhattan’ 2.0?

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Every once in a while Woody Allen breaks new ground, uncovering a different side of the incomparably prolific filmmaker. Just as often, he doesn’t. Whatever Works isn’t exactly reinventing the wheel, but it’s funny — in fact, it’s one of the funniest and warmest of his recent films. It just goes to show that even when he’s not the "new and improved" Woody Allen, he’s still Woody Allen. And that’s nothing to sniff at.

Allen doesn’t star in Whatever Works, but he might as well. Larry David plays Boris Yellnikoff, a crueler, more cynical version of Allen’s nebbishy persona. At first his condescension and misanthropy are a bit disconcerting: is this how Woody’s felt about us all along — that we’re idiots and he’s the only one who really gets it? But, like most Allen protagonists, Boris is a lot more relatable and less unpleasant once we get to know him. It helps that he’s forced to take in simple Southern belle Melody St. Ann Celestine, a runaway who somehow falls in love with her host. No matter how bad a hypochondriac curmudgeon you are, marrying a much younger woman is bound to lift your spirits.

As with his other films, the strength of Whatever Works is in the variety of talented actors Allen has assemble. Aside from Larry doing Woody — about as close to the real thing as you can get — Evan Rachel Wood is charming as Melody. Her performance, equal parts sexual and naïve, recalls Mira Sorvino’s Linda in Mighty Aphrodite (1995). And Patricia Clarkson, who stole her scenes in Vicky Christina Barcelona (2008), continues to wow as Melody’s mother.

In the end, Allen fans will embrace the film. Allen haters — well, they’re probably not about to start liking him now. There may be a formula at play here, but in the all-too-appropriate words of the movie’s title, "whatever works." Frankly, it’s comforting to know Allen can still put out a lighthearted comedy after recent serious detours. Hey, funny is funny. Woody is Woody.

WHATEVER WORKS opens Fri/26 in Bay Area theaters.

The Stoning of Soraya M.

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REVIEW Given the recent events in Iran, the timing of The Stoning of Soraya M.‘s release seems, well, perfect. The film may be set in 1986, but the message of resistance to political oppression couldn’t be more relevant. This is a story about the importance of refusing to comply with unjust edicts, of the power one woman can have to make her voice heard. Sound familiar? But the movie is more than just its message: The Stoning of Soraya M. is effective because it’s a well-made film. Director Cyrus Nowrasteh takes his source material (the book, itself based on a true story) and infuses it with a staggering cinematic reality. The audience feels dangerously close to the on-screen action, struggling to help, or at least look away, as the plot careens toward its inevitable conclusion. Credit is also due to the two women whose performances transform the film from sad to tragic. Mozhan Marnò is the titular Soraya, capturing the innocence and resilience of a woman doomed by circumstance. And veteran Iranian actor Shohreh Aghdashloo plays her aunt: stubborn, independent, and altogether human. The story — even the title alone — speaks for itself. But with these leads it becomes a powerful call to arms, leaving the kind of lasting impression few other movies can hope for.

THE STONING OF SORAYA M. opens Fri/26 in San Francisco.

Hot topic

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If you’ve seen Flesh (1968) or Trash (1970) or Heat (1972), there’s a good chance you’d like to spend an hour alone with Joe Dallesandro. Let’s face it — that’s probably not going to happen anytime soon, so you may have to settle for something a bit less private. As substitutes go, Little Joe is a nice alternative: no, you can’t talk to (or touch) Dallesandro directly, but the experience is certainly intimate.

Little Joe just isn’t your standard documentary. Forget the talking heads or — horror of all horrors — reenactments. This is Joe on Joe: 90 minutes of the Warhol superstar reflecting on his accidental fame and everything that came after. It’s a fascinating story, even without the cinematic embellishments. Of course, it helps that Dallesandro himself does all the talking. For one thing, he’s undoubtedly the best authority on his life. For another, he’s not bad to look at, even pushing 60.

The film was conceived and produced by Vedra Mehagian Dallesandro, Joe’s daughter, and Nicole Haeusser, who also directed. Speaking about their unusual approach, both agree that the close, conversational style gives a better sense of the subject than other films might be able to do.

“Our original goal was to make a great documentary on Joe, because many have tried,” Vedra Dallesandro explains. “And we’re very intimate and connected to him. That’s the reason he did this for us.”

But, as Haeusser elaborates, the filmmakers’ decision to do the film as a one-on-one with Dallesando wasn’t appealing to potential producers, who sought a more conventional documentary technique.

“When Vedra tried to get financing, they were all worried about the third act,” she says. “They were worried that Joe was still alive and wanted to wait for him to die, basically. So Vedra and I were talking, and I was like, ‘Well, we don’t need money. We can just do it ourselves.'”

The decision turned out to be a happy accident: Little Joe’s biggest strength is its almost amateur quality. Which is not to say that the film feels lacking — it’s just an intentionally limited production. There are no experts over-explaining Dallesandro’s overnight success (he was hot) or later substance abuse (it was readily available). Nor are there any TMZ-esque voiceovers highlighting the more illicit aspects of his career. And who needs ’em? The clips of Dallesandro strutting nude through, well, all of his early films speak for themselves.

Of course, the point of all the real talk with Dallesandro is to show that he’s more than just a sex object — and the message definitely comes across. He is, as he puts it, smarter than people give him credit for.

“A lot of times you hear people talk about him like he’s a piece of meat,” Haeusser says. “And he’s a very spiritual person.”

I don’t know if that’s quite the impression I got, but Little Joe does flesh out Dallesandro (pun fully intended) more than frequent collaborator Paul Morrissey ever did. Dallesandro’s early career was about his appearance: the muscles, the hair, the manparts. And that’s all well and good, but no one wants to be defined solely by how good they look naked. This documentary is the ideal vehicle for Dallesandro to prove, as the saying goes, that he’s more than just a pretty face.

Still, there’s no denying Little Joe‘s eye candy status. To its credit, the film never shies away from that. No one appears embarrassed or regretful about the past, and why should they?

“Who he is, is who he is,” Vedra Dallesandro offers. “I think it’s amazing.” Amazing may sound like a stretch, but consider the life of a sex symbol. It takes courage to bare it all — and it takes star quality to turn that into a career. (Louis Peitzman)

LITTLE JOE

Sat/20, 4:15 p.m., Castro ————

ODE TO JOE: A FIRST-PERSON TESTIMONY TO STARDOM OF DALLESANDRO

“Don’t do this to me and leave me, Joe!” So rasps Sylvia Miles as Joe Dallesandro dutifully pleasures her missionary-style in a scene from Andy Warhol’s Heat (1972). When it comes to mid-coital dirty talk, could any line possibly be more comically terrible? Miles’ character is Sally Todd, a past-prime actress with a Beverly Hills mansion whose “game show money” doesn’t keep her in hairspray. Dallesandro is Joey Davis, an ex-child star terminally on the make in an attempt to revive his marooned career. But really, anyone who enjoys Heat — and I’ll come right out and say it’s my favorite movie, ever — is enjoying the people behind the characters.

A key reward of the Warhol movies that star Joe Dallesandro is that he doesn’t just do it to us and leave us — his signature brand of candid male sexuality, something entirely new in American cinema when it arrived, is still available to us today. “Little Joe” brought before the camera the fantasies that biographers and gossip tattle-tales entertained about James Dean and Marlon Brando, and his naturalism helped pave the way for Robert DeNiro’s and Al Pacino’s brands of Italian-American charisma and machismo, even if he wasn’t theatrically trained. Yes, Dallesandro was usually stoic-to-stony, scarcely reacting to the hijinx of the myriad feminine characters with whom Paul Morrissey and Warhol paired him. But he knew enough to realize that he didn’t have to do much, which is more than most actors learn in a lifetime.

Joe Dallesandro played a key role for me in terms of knowing I was attracted to men, and I can hardly be alone in that experience. When I first saw him, it was only a portion of his body — his sculpted chest and abdomen, tinted a plum color on the cover of the Smiths’ self-titled 1985 debut album. This image was too oblique to be lust at first sight, but still images of Dallesandro from Flesh (1968) in Parker Tyler’s book Underground Film and Stephen Koch’s Warhol cinema survey Stargazer resolved any lingering issues or teenage doubts. The treat in discovering the movies behind these images was that Dallesandro’s unapologetically naked good looks were simply the hook on which Warhol, and especially director Morrissey, hooked a fantastic crew of eccentrics.

Little Joe, Nicole Hauesser’s new feature-length biographical portrait of Dallesandro, has as much in common with That Man: Peter Berlin (2005) as it does the legion of documentaries about Warhol superstars. Like the Berlin movie, it fascinates as a study of an icon of masculine glamour, though Dallesandro isn’t as narcissistic (who could be) or as detached and cerebral. Hauesser skims over the coded symbols of Dallesandro’s physique model days, and I wish she’d had Dallesandro sound off more about dearly-departed costars such as the amazing Andrea Feldman.

But Little Joe‘s story can’t help but be dramatic. Who knew Dallesandro had an ill-fated handsome brother — shades of Catherine Deneuve and Francoise Dorléac — or that the love of his life was Suspiria (1976) star Stefania Casini? Still handsome today, Dallesandro addresses the camera with a directness missing from his Warhol performances, wrestling uncomfortably with his manipulation by Morrissey, and reminiscing with little sentiment about latter-era Warhol films such as Flesh for Frankenstein (1973) and Blood for Dracula (1974), which includes his best and most hilarious performances — as a Marxist servant with a Brooklyn accent in medieval Europe.

“Have you even lived to know what beautiful is?” Lydia (Pat Ast) asks a male stripper jealous of Joe’s good looks during a sunny afternoon scene from Heat. As Joe descends down some stairs for an underwater swim across the length of a pool, she answers her own question: “You’re just a spoiled brat, living the life of Riley.” Watching Joe Dallesandro in Flesh, in Trash (1970), and most of all, in Heat, we’re all spoiled brats living the life of Riley. (Johnny Ray Huston)

 

Rights way

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Ask any filmmaker: facts and figures may horrify, but images are what leave the most lasting impression. With raw and shocking footage of worldwide atrocities, the movies featured in this year’s Human Rights Watch International Film Festival speak multitudes — even when their narrators are silent. Rather than attempt to encapsulate the entirety of the injustices committed, these films focus on the human side of things. And so we get glimpses: a mother weeping over the daughter taken from her, a student cradling her bloody head as she leads a protest.

Two particularly effective films restrict their focus to the women involved in these struggles—as perpetrators and as victims. Tamar Yarom’s To See If I’m Smiling (2007) avoids such labels and focuses on female Israeli soldiers as individuals. Some might criticize the film for its apolitical tone. While many of the women lament war crimes, they have little to say about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as a whole. But the story that emerges from these interviews is a unique one, and a valuable addition to the ongoing debates. To See If I’m Smiling doesn’t seek to justify the actions of the Israeli Army, but rather to give its subjects space to reflect — both on their rights and on the rights they served to protect.

The scope of Julie Bridgham’s The Sari Soldiers (2008) is considerably wider. Her female subjects are the civilians of Nepal, the Maoist rebels, the Royal Nepal Army soldiers. Some are loyal to the king, while others march in protest. Bridgham wisely avoids coming down on one side or the other, allowing us to see that these women are united not by ideologies, but by their shared belief in a better Nepal.

One film can’t sum up a human rights quandary — and it surely can’t solve it either. At the very least, though, this festival gives a voice to people in dire need of speaking, whether through pictures or words.

HUMAN RIGHTS WATCH INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL

Wed/27–Fri/27, $5.50–$9.50

Pacific Film Archive, 2575 Bancroft, Berk.

March 5–26, $6–$8

Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, 701 Mission, SF

www.hrw.org/iff

Speed Reading

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THE MAMMOTH BOOK OF BEST HORROR COMICS

Edited by Peter Normanton

Running Press

448 pages

$17.95

It probably comes as no surprise that post–World War II Americans decided Hitler was a lot scarier than the Boogeyman. It’s a little more shocking to see that fear realized in their comic books. The Mammoth Book of Best Horror Comics contains its fair share of vampires, werewolves, and zombies, but those early years are dominated by ghostly stormtroopers, Nazi clones and — more often than not — the reanimated fuhrer himself. I’m particularly fond of "Terror of the Stolen Legs," which, I assure you, is creepier than the title suggests.

For this collection, editor Peter Normanton has culled prime examples from more than six decades of horror comics. The results are often fascinating: how else to see Nazi anxiety so aptly literalized? And, of course, they’re fun. Don’t forget these are comics, so for all of their time capsule–esque appeal, they retain that guilty pleasure quality. Imagine you’re a kid in the pre-"graphic novel" ’50s while reading the collection— it enhances the thrill.

For the most part, it’s these early offerings that prove the most delightful, if only for the camptastic writing. The best example comes from "The Game Keeper," which begins, "Run Avis Drood! Run as fast as your lovely legs can carry you, for the full moon burgeons beyond Drood Castle and the game is afoot!"

The only real downside to the collection is Normanton’s purple prose. He tends to ham it up in his introductions to each story, promising a life-changing experience on every page. But hey, feel free to skip those parts — they don’t have pictures, anyway.

“Coraline”

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REVIEW Coraline is a great film to take your kids to, provided you’re willing to let them sleep in your bed for a night. Like the Neil Gaiman novel it’s based on, this is a fairy tale with a dark side, an Alice in Wonderland–style fable that doesn’t dumb things down for its target audience. But then, neither did Alice. Dakota Fanning voices Coraline, a lonely, blue-haired little girl in search of adventure. She finds it, and them some, when she travels into bizarro world by way of a tiny door in her house. There she finds her Other Mother (Teri Hatcher), who seems nice enough — except that she wants to sew buttons into Coraline’s eyes. Soon the precocious girl has embarked on a mission to save her kidnapped parents, some old school ghosts, and, of course, herself. The animation style is an updated version of that found in The Nightmare Before Christmas (1993), also from director Henry Selick. There’s a richness and depth to Coraline‘s world, which is only emphasized by the nifty 3-D effects. Inevitably, this Coraline is softer than Gaiman’s source material, but it’s spooky enough to please both fans and newcomers. Despite the lack of big scares, it leaves you with a lingering unease. And possibly a fear of buttons.

CORALINE opens Fri/6 in Bay Area theaters.

Tuneless, yet tempting

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Mamma Mia! was nominated for Best Picture. I’ll let that sink in for a moment. OK, yes, the category in question is limited to comedies and musicals, and sure, the Golden Globes aren’t the most significant annual awards, but still. This is the best you could come up with, Hollywood Foreign Press Association? Meryl Streep unabashedly flailing on a rooftop? Pierce Brosnan’s nasal tones bringing new lows to the ABBA oeuvre? Best musical of the year, my ass.

Except, well, it kind of was. And I think that’s the real problem here: 2008 sucked for movie musicals. While 2007 offered Hairspray, Sweeney Todd, and Across the Universe, 2008 gave us Mamma Mia!, High School Musical 3: Senior Year, and Repo: The Genetic Opera. Is it too late for re-gifting? In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll admit that I enjoyed two of those three films. Mamma Mia! and HSM 3 both have their merits, and I won’t deny getting in on the toe-tapping fun. As movies, though, they’re pretty weak; as musicals, even worse. Don’t get me started on Repo — you know something’s wrong when Paris Hilton is the high point.

Mamma Mia! was lousy from the get-go, despite what endless lines in New York would have you believe. The flimsy story is more of a placeholder for the tunes, which you could hear performed better on ABBA Gold. (You haven’t known true horror until you’ve seen Brosnan in all-singing action — "S.O.S." is right.) Then there’s HSM 3, the guiltiest of my pleasures. Sure, I liked it, because as a fan, I can look past the overproduced songs, mediocre acting, and half-assed plot. Objectively, it’s just not an instant classic.

Finally, we come to Repo, a truly embarrassing, wannabe-cult disaster of a film. If this represents the future of the movie musical, I’ll opt for the film’s dystopian vision instead. Repossess any organs you like, just as long as I don’t have to hear Bill Moseley sing again.

LOUIS PEITZMAN’S TOP TEN GUILTY PLEASURES

1. High School Musical 3 (Kenny Ortega, USA)

2. Twilight (Catherine Hardwicke, USA)

3. Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (Steven Spielberg, USA)

4. Mamma Mia! (Phyllida Lloyd, USA)

5. Harold and Kumar Escape From Guantanamo Bay (Jon Hurwitz and Hayden Schlossberg, USA)

6. The X-Files: I Want to Believe (Chris Carter, USA)

7. The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor (Rob Cohen, USA)

8. Four Christmases (Seth Gordon, USA)

9. Beverly Hills Chihuahua (Raja Gosnell, USA)
10. The Clique (Michael Lembeck, USA)

>>More Year in Film 2008

Speed Reading

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By Steve Dublanica

Ecco

320 pages

$24.97


Lately publishers seem to be following two rough guidelines: first, anyone can write a memoir; second, if it’s a blog, it might as well also be a book.

Waiter Rant, based on (you guessed it) a blog of the same name, does plenty to refute both unspoken rules. Author Steve Dublanica may have some pithy anecdotes, but he fails to compile them in any cohesive or thoughtful way. At best, his book is a series of blog posts stretched out to chapter length. At worst, it’s plain dull. The cover blurb from Kitchen Confidential icon Anthony Bourdain is meant to suggest that Waiter Rant will give readers a behind-the-scenes look at waiting tables. And it does, to a point. It also, most unfortunately, affords Dublanica ample opportunity to wax philosophical on just about everything, including why waiters take drugs (they’re stressed) and why people don’t tip enough (they’re cheap).

Not to mention that the author spends far too much time worrying about whether or not he’ll finally publish his book — spoiler alert: he does — and become more than just a waiter. There’s something inherently bothersome about his attitude. If his success story is meant to inspire those who are still "just" waiters, why is he so down on their chosen profession?

Inevitably, Waiter Rant is more self-serving than insightful. I’m sure it’s comforting to all the under-the-radar bloggers out there that someday they, too, might get a book deal. Let’s hope that if and when that happens, they remember there’s a difference between having a story and telling it well.

The oldest story in the book

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REVIEW It’s the oldest story in the book — and no, I’m not talking about Adam and Eve. Eden is yet another addition to the familiar marriage-in-trouble genre, with no real twist to speak of: after 10 years together, Breda (Eileen Walsh) feels unloved by her husband Billy (Aidan Kelly). Meanwhile, Billy finds himself tempted by the forbidden fruit of infidelity. Rather than stunt the film, this well-trodden subject matter makes Eden’s success all the more impressive. Without reinventing the wheel, director Declan Recks has crafted one of the most captivating films of the year. It helps, of course, that he has two consummate performers. Kelly captures the subtle nuances of his character, who struggles to balance his selfish desires with his familiar obligations. And Walsh, winner of the Best Actress award at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival, is nothing short of heartbreaking. Both actors look — for lack of a better word — real, and their presence enhances the film’s ability to produce a genuine empathetic response. Taken as a whole, there is a beauty in this quiet Irish drama rarely found in the glossiest of Hollywood blockbusters, with each frame thoughtfully composed. Despite the otherwise mundane story, Eden emerges as downright idyllic.

EDEN opens Fri/5 in Bay Area theaters.

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