Day 7: September 11

A pretty somber day, not surprisingly. There are a number of films screening here that deal directly with the events of a year ago, but I haven't really made time to see any of them. Much reflection, but I'm not sure how much has really changed since a year ago...

The Sweatbox
Directed by John-Paul Davidson and Trudie Styler

Ever thought of working for Disney? Seems that Sting did.

Commissioned to do a score for an animated film, part of his deal allowed his wife to assemble a documentary team to follow along. As the project morphs from a earthy, environmentalist statement to the slapstick buddy pic it becomes (Emperor's New Groove), you get to follow Sting and the Disney folks as they become more and more disenchanted with one another. It's a remarkable glimpse into a very messy process, and kudos to Disney for not freaking out about the results. The film presents an absolutely fascinating behind-the-scenes picture of just what's behind the story and production process of major animated pictures. Seems that stuff can really screw up when you've got over four years to make the best damn movie you can. And, when all else fails, bring in Tom Jones.
Grade: B+

Standing in the Shadows of Motown
Directed by Paul Justman

What better way to commemorate the events of last year than to see a movie that makes you feel so alive?

Standing in the Shadows will go down not simply as a highlight of this or any other festival, it perhaps will remain the most exuberant and ecstatic screening I will ever attend.

Telling the tale of the Funk Brothers, those unsung backing musicians who "played on more number one hits than Elvis, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and the Beach Boys combined", this is a musical ride. Part documentary, part concert film, the movie utilizes its most impressive element - the storytelling ability of these gifted musicians - to draw the viewer into a tale of musical invention and hard life in the studio and on the road. As André Braugher's soothing voice-over intones, these guys had success, but they missed out on that elusive element of fame, "glory".

The concert elements alone make it worth seeing (and hearing) - guest vocalists from Bootsy to Ben Harper kick it with the band, as they lock into their famous syncopated grooves. Joan Osborne, of all people, nails "What's become of the Broken Hearted" with the boys - a spinechilling performance. It's scary at times, the "Motown sound" resurrected by these old, tired looking guys. Forget the studio walls, forget the parade of producers and cavalcade of crooners that stepped through the doors of the "snakepit" in Detroit, these guys were it, the sound of the motor city, the heart of the Motown hit making enterprise.

A supremely excellent moment occurs when the giant tambourine man calls out to his fellow conspirators to slip into the groove of "Ain't to Proud to Beg". The twin drummer start off with their famous beat, that laid back, shuffle groove in 4/4 with the snare punching the beat. Pointing to the three guitarists of the "Oreo" section, they begin their "chuck chuck"-ing, punching the beat on the two and four. The bass comes in, thumping away on the Fender's frets, that low mellow sound locking the groove even further. Swinging over, the big man points to the piano, as the melody creeps atop the sound. It's flying, it's soaring and the groove sounds as authentic and fresh as any music made today. But something's missing... that elusive glue that holds it entirely together. Picking up his tambourine, the big man frantically shakes it to an impossible syncopation, locking that groove so tight that it hurts. The audience gasps for a moment, then cheers and claps - this, in front of us, is the building blocks of so many songs that have brought so much joy to all who sit at the Elgin. With the flick of his wrists, the big man seals that Motown sound, and a public film experience just can't get any better than that. We are all in ecstasy.

The brothers missed out on glory back in the day, but I can't help but think that this cinematic labour of love (fourteen years in the making) will make these guys finally feel what they were missing. No longer playing piano bars for tips, these guys demonstrate within half a musical bar who the real superstars of Motown were. Three members of the group attended this premiere, and they were treated to an ovation that stood for over ten minutes. Glory indeed, standing in the shadows no longer. Long live the funk, long live the brothers of funk.

Grade: A+

L'Homme du Train
Directed by Patrice Leconte

One of my favourite memories of fests gone by was a screening of Laconte's Ridicule. It took place at Roy Thompson, and occurred a couple weeks before I was to visit France for a year. The wit and class of that film impressed me greatly, and the cheekiness of the filmmaking stuck with me.

With his latest flick, Laconte continues to please. He's brought together the well established Jean Rochefort with, of all people, "Joh-neee" himself, Johnny Hallyday. For those not in the know, Joh-nee is a weird mix of Elvis and Pat Boone, with a bit of Liberace, Chuck Berry and Sérge Gansbourg thrown in for good measure. The surprise is not that he's in the flick, but that the pair work so well together. There's a wonderful, quiet menace about his performance, and the friendship that develops onscreen is really interesting. A bizarre yet touching tale of gangster and recluse finding in each other something they lack, the film definitely warrants a look.
Grade: B+

Promised Land
Directed by Jason Xenopoulos


A very interesting and provocative small-p political thriller set in contemporary South Africa. A white London man comes to his homeland to find a group of white farmers that haven't quite come to terms with the new realities of their country. Avoiding overt cliché, the film manages to be an enjoyable ride, with wonderful visuals and strong performances. The story devolves near the end to a big shoot-em-up, but there's enough interesting things going on in this debut to make it well worth seeing.
Grade: B-

MC5 - A True Testimonial
Directed by David C. Thomas

A strange pick for a MM film, it didn't even start at midnight. Nor, for that matter, did it play the Uptown. Screened in digital at the Varsity, it's a talking head-style doc that traces the route of punk politico-rockers MC5 through the confines of Detroit to beyond. While they certainly have lacked the staying power of, say, Zeppelin, their brand of punk metal rage at the white man's ills (and famous shout of "Kick out the Jams, Mutherfuckers!) makes them an interesting part of musical history. The flick is pretty straight forward and somewhat boring, but it's nice to see the attempt. Interesting, but don't expect a huge DVD push on this one - MC5, afterall, always chose to testify to only the most descrimintating ararchistic white male pothead of the late 60s/early 70s.
Grade: B-/C+