Ian Thomas Malone

Tuesday

23

February 2021

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COMMENTS

Slamdance Review: Bad Attitude: The Art of Spain Rodriguez

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The counterculture movement of the 1960s produced some of the greatest comics ever crafted. Cities such as New York and San Francisco were home to countless underground magazines that put out work that forever changed the medium, moving comics away from children’s content toward more provocative messaging. The work of Manuel “Spain” Rodriguez stands out as among the most provocative and intellectually stimulating comics to come out of the underground movement.

The documentary Bad Attitude: The Art of Spain Rodriguez follows the life and career of the late artist, who passed away in 2012. Featuring interviews with many of the leading artists of the underground movement including Art Spiegelman, R. Crumb, and Trina Robbins, the film does a great job explaining the era and its role in shaping comics as a medium. Spain’s work is constantly shown on screen, giving the audience a wonderful introduction into his immense talent.

Directed by Spain’s widow Susan Stern, the film often struggles with an unclear thesis. The first twenty minutes are spent providing a history of the countercultural movement, often intertwined with biographical details of Spain’s early life. The audience is given a pretty good idea of where to place Spain’s work within the broader context of the 60s, but that sense of clarity is sorely missing once the documentary starts to move away from that era.

As the title suggests, Spain as a person is a bit rough around the edges. Extensive archival footage doesn’t necessarily show a man with a bad attitude, but rather more of a chauvinistic figure. Much of Spain’s art is a bit sexist, occasionally homophobic, in nature to say the least. Stern’s footage of him paints a similar picture.

Spain’s casual misogyny is a subject that the film spends much of its seventy-one minute runtime dancing around while never really turning to face head on. Early on, an interview with a friend of Spain states that he never “punched down,” focusing his art instead on critiquing people in power. This idea is contradicted time and time again throughout the documentary, in Spain’s art, his own words, and even the testimony of other interviewees.

Worst of all, his artistic brilliance is undercut by the surface-level approach to his work. While often described by interviewees as a great progressive political thinker, the film only presents a surface-level understanding of Marx’s theory of labor value, the kind of pontificating you might expect from a couple of college freshmen smoking pot in their dorm room. One can forgive a film for not wanting to dive too deep into progressive ideology,  but it hardly does a very good job elevating its subject in this regard.

Time and time again, Spain is presented as less of a countercultural figure than an edgelord looking to flip the bird at anyone and everyone. An early depiction of his time in a motorcycle gang depicts his clubhouse as flying a Nazi flag for no real reason other than to stoke controversy. His views on feminism paint him as more like a far-right cultural warrior than a progressive.

Plenty of testimonies from his family and friends suggest he didn’t believe a lot of this stuff, but for whatever reason, it’s still all presented in this rather short feature. Even at seventy-one minutes, the film feels way too long, a product of its uncertain direction. Worst of all, there’s not really a clear takeaway by the time the credits start to roll.

About halfway through the film, a narration from Stern poses a question about Spain’s complicated nature, wondering what this suggests about her for marrying him. The film signals its intentions to try and grapple with this concept, but it never really does. There are only so many times you can hear people say variations of “Spain said awful shit, but he was my friend,” before it starts to lose its impact.

Spain Rodriguez was a brilliant artist. Bad Attitude presents a murky picture of his life that’s bound to turn people off to his talents. Spain lived in a different era. One can look past his regressive sense of humor and misguided opinions, but after watching the film, it’s unclear who would want to. The film might have some value in its archival footage for fans of Spain, but it hardly makes a good case for why anyone else would want to dive into his work.

Monday

15

February 2021

0

COMMENTS

Young Hearts

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Today we are joined by Sarah and Zachary Ray Sherman, directors of the film Young Hearts. One of Ian’s favorites from Slamdance 2020, the film follows two teens developing their first romantic relationship, learning the messy nature of love in a high school setting. Sarah and Zachary talk about their experiences making the film and its unique place amidst high school narratives.

Ian’s review of the film (originally titled Thunderbolt in Mine Eye): https://ianthomasmalone.com/2020/01/slamdance-review-thunderbolt-in-mine-eye/

Young Hearts is now available to rent via VOD from all major services including Amazon, Google, and Apple. 

Film poster courtesy of Blue Fox Entertainment

Friday

12

February 2021

0

COMMENTS

Slamdance Review: Workhorse Queen

Written by , Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

Reality television produces tons of memorable personalities, figures who dominate internet discourse, if only for a moment. Ru Paul’s Drag Race is a bit of an anomaly in this regard. Stars of shows like Big Brother or Survivor shine bright and fade fast, but a queen can parlay their sashay into something bigger. Careers are made where others find mere minutes of fame.

Ed Popil has been a drag queen for a long time. His persona, Mrs. Kasha Davis, embodies the warm spirit of a 1950s housewife without any of the regressive views of the era. Based in Rochester, New York, Mrs. Kasha Davis fits right in with her small-town community, a stark contrast to the wild nature of the LGBTQ scene in places like Los Angeles or San Francisco.

After many years of audition tapes, Mrs. Kasha Davis competed in season seven of Drag Race. She finished 11th out of 14, hardly the kind of performance that leaves much of an impression in the crowded TV landscape. The film Workhorse Queen follows Davis’ career and life’s story, shedding some light on the unique power that Drag Race has to create lasting figures in American popular culture.

Director Angela Washko peels back the layers of Popil’s story alongside Mrs. Kasha Davis’ rise. There’s a powerful contrast on display between the family-style homophobia that too many gay people have had to face and the way in which Ru Paul’s Drag Race has made LGBTQ mainstream, bringing along with it a greater sense of acceptance. Families who once might have shunned gay children now watch Drag Race alongside them.

Popil makes for a compelling subject, warm and open about his struggles with alcohol and the challenges of igniting a career from the fleeting embers of reality television. Drag brings people together across all demographics and backgrounds, but staying power in the industry is challenging to maintain. Mrs. Kasha Davis has had plenty of bumps in the road, but there’s great power in her story of resiliency.

Washko also explores the contrast between the LGBTQ culture of Popil’s earlier life to the mainstream popularity enjoyed by our community in the present. Normalization is great for many reasons, except for the performers who proudly fly their freak flag. What was once underground is now fodder for dinner table conversations across the country.

Workhorse Queen also tackles the complex subject of ageism within the drag community, further shining a light on the stark contrast between past and future. For all the positive vibes that increased visibility brings, it’s still a bit disheartening to see pioneers who paved the way for LGBTQ acceptance cast aside for the next generation. There aren’t easy answers here, but Mrs. Kasha Davis inspires through her endless perseverance and charm, an entertaining entry into the LGBTQ film canon.

Friday

12

February 2021

0

COMMENTS

Slamdance Series: Workhorse Queen

Written by , Posted in Blog, Podcast

Slamdance 2021 coverage continues! We are thrilled to welcome Angela Washko and Mrs. Kasha Davis, director and star of the new documentary Workhorse Queen. The film follows Mrs. Kasha Davis’ journey from small-town drag queen all the way to Ru Paul’s Drag Race, where she competed in season seven. Angela & Mrs. Kasha Davis (Ed Popil) talk about the evolution of drag, their experiences making the film, and what mainstream visibility means for the LGBTQ community. 

 

Ian’s review of the film: https://ianthomasmalone.com/2021/02/slamdance-series-workhorse-queen/

 

Slamdance tickets are on sale now for $10, which you can purchase here: https://slamdance.com/festival-passes/

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Poster and still courtesy of Situated Productions

 

 

Thursday

11

February 2021

0

COMMENTS

Slamdance Series: The Little Broomstick Rider

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Our Slamdance 2021 coverage continues with a delightful entry in the Episodes section. The Little Broomstick Rider is a loose adaptation of Ludwig Bechstein’s The Little Pitchfork Rider, the series follows 9 year old Linhard, accused of witchcraft in 17th century Bavaria.

Director Matteo Bernardini shares some insights into his creative process. Made entirely using paper, pens, scissors, and glue, The Little Broomstick Rider is a crowning achievement of quarantine-inspired filmmaking. 

Slamdance tickets are on sale now for $10, which you can purchase here: https://slamdance.com/festival-passes/

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Poster and still courtesy of Matteo Bernardini

Wednesday

10

February 2021

0

COMMENTS

Slamdance Series: Chef Giants

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Our Slamdance 2021 coverage kicks off! Delighted to welcome Ethan Dirks and Troy DeWinne to talk about their indie fantasy animation Chef Giants, which is premiering as part of the episodes block on February 12th. Chef Giants is the proof-of-concept for their full series Gobble, a delightfully strange musical odyssey that follows two goblins who want to be pop stars.

 

Troy and Ethan also illustrated all 145 Slamdance filmmakers for an animated virtual party, which you can check out here: https://chefgiants.com/party

 

Troy & Ethan talk about their creative process, the marginalization of goblins in popular culture,   and the importance of giving virtual festivals a sense of connective tissue. Ian really appreciates the way that Chef Giants helps emphasize the vital role of community in the filmmaking experience.

Slamdance tickets are on sale now for $10, which you can purchase here: https://slamdance.com/festival-passes/

You can follow Ethan on Instagram, @ethan_dirks, and Troy, @dewinnethepooh

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Images courtesy of Ethan Dirks and Troy DeWinne.

Tuesday

9

February 2021

0

COMMENTS

Constantine Venetopoulos, director of Draw With Me

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Today we welcome Constantine Venetopoulos to the show to talk about his new short documentary, Draw With Me. The film follows the coming out journey of nonbinary teen Brendon Scholl, with appearances by Brendon’s aunt Jennifer Lopez and President Joe Biden. Draw With Me was featured at the first ever panel on transgender health at the United Nations and is an Official Oscar Entry for the Documentary Short category.

Draw With Me is an excellent resource especially for parents looking for resources to support their trans children. Constantine & Ian discuss the complicated family dynamics that can surface after coming out and the contrasts between America’s growing acceptance of LGBTQ people against the backdrop of the Trump administration.

You can view the trailer for Draw With Me here: https://vimeo.com/450714908

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Film poster courtesy of Ithaka Films. Headshot courtesy of Constantine Venetopoulos

 

 

Friday

5

February 2021

0

COMMENTS

Sundance Review: Playing with Sharks

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The greatest strength of Playing with Sharks is apparent almost instantaneously. Director Sally Aitken knows what an asset she has in her subject. Marine conservationist Valerie Taylor is such a joy to watch on screen that it feels like all the director has to do is sit back and let the magic unfold.

Obviously, a documentary requires extensive work, but it’s a testament to Aitken’s abilities as a director that she can present her narrative that carries such an aura of effortless glee. The passion that Taylor inspires in seemingly everyone around her radiates through the screen. Using extensive archival footage, Playing with Sharks is a fascinating career perspective that also sheds light on the ways that humans have come to care about preserving the ocean.

Taylor and her husband Ron, who died in 2012, were pioneers of underwater filmmaking, particularly with regard to sharks. Aitken shows that part of that was through their love of the animals, but also for economical reasons. Production studios favored footage of “dangerous” sea creatures, an idea that Taylor has railed against for the vast majority of her career. Misconceptions about the dangers posed by sharks and other sea creatures have had a profoundly negative effect on their continued survival.

Aitken’s depiction of Taylor’s vast career demonstrates the many roads that can lead one to an interest in conservation. Originally a competitive spear-fisher, Ron and Valerie grew disenchanted with the practice, committing themselves to only capturing the animals on camera rather than with a weapon. Such a dynamic sets up the most interesting chapter of the narrative with their work on Jaws.

Often considered the first modern blockbuster, Jaws’ effect on shark education and the well-being of their populations in general has been well-documented over the decades. Peter Benchley, author of the novel that Spielberg’s classic was based off of, has said he wouldn’t have written it if he’d known the damage it would cause. Though Taylor is reluctant to outright say it, the film gives the sense that she’s very much in agreement.

Fitting for its subject’s career, Playing with Sharks presents its remarkable footage of sharks without evoking anxiety from its audience. You may not necessarily want to put on a chainmail suit and jump in the ocean, but Taylor is quite effective at easing any tension one might feel toward these wondrous creatures. She even teaches a shark some tricks, an inspiring sense of confidence from a remarkable woman.

Aitken’s film is not super high stakes, a fairly conflict-free narrative that matches the frequency of its warm subject. The third act features several scenes of Taylor talking about her advocacy work to the Australian government, showing the resistance she faced years ago, as well as the progress that’s been made along the way. Playing with Sharks is a breezy documentary, a work that manages to operate on a similar wavelength as its subject. Wildlife aficionados will find much to enjoy in this fascinating depiction of Taylor’s life’s work.

Friday

5

February 2021

0

COMMENTS

Sundance Review: Cryptozoo

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The sense of immense frustration that one might feel toward Cryptozoo does seem a bit fitting given the world that Dash Shaw created. Perpetually throwing frame after frame of psychedelic imagery up on the screen, the narrative seems more interested in living in the broader world of animation than the one of its own making. Disney’s presence looms large over all American animation, but plenty of features prefer to ignore that reality.

Cryptozoo never seems interested in shaking its middling fascination with capitalism and Disney, never quite sure what to say about them beyond the rudimentary observation that they are bad. This thesis would pack a hell of a lot more punch if it were the case that Cryptozoo was unmistakable good. The narrative never quite comes together enough for any of that to stick.

The film starts with such promise. Two naked hippies, Matthew (Michael Cera) and Amber (Louisa Krause) are doing drugs and having sex, fascinated by a giant fence that looks part-Jurassic Park, part-Star Trek: The Next Generation’s pilot “Encounter at Farpoint.” The animation alternates between crude and exquisitely beautiful, a sentiment that persists throughout the narrative.

Though the film keeps up its psychedelic visuals over the duration of the 95-minute runtime, the actual plot becomes a lot more mundane. The cold open gives way to Lauren (Lake Bell) and Joan (Grace Zabriskie), who operate a sanctuary/theme park for cryptids to find peace, security, and dining options finely tailored to the Cryptozoo’s individual lands. The Disney parody is abundant, but it’s not particularly funny or insightful.

The plot quickly devolves into what’s essentially Archer on acid. There are a lot of action sequences that aren’t very interesting. The script delivers most of its best moments in the first fifteen minutes. It becomes rather jarring to watch the inventive animation dragged down by such a superficially bland narrative, a film at war with itself.

Animation director Jane Samborski, Shaw’s wife, ensures that there’s always something spectacular on the screen to look at. The animation is superb, pretty much solely justifying the uneven experience that is Cryptozoo. You could basically watch the film on mute and still reap the film’s only worthwhile attributes.

Cryptozoo is easy to hate. As a narrative, it certainly does not deserve any love. Everything here should have enhanced the visuals instead of leaving the animation by itself to carry the film.

Despite all that, the animation is pretty great to watch. Maybe not great enough to transform Cryptozoo into the film it sort of wants to be, but it’s hard to write off the whole experience altogether. Shaw’s narrative is a frustrating mess, but there’s enough good here to justify the experience. A frustrating film that at least found some success in avoiding becoming a regrettable waste.

Friday

5

February 2021

0

COMMENTS

Sundance Review: Cusp

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The advances in technology can suggest a kind of barrier between the struggles that modern teenagers face and those of us who came of age before TikTok and Instagram ushered in the era of perpetual connectivity. Directors Isabel Bethencourt and Parker Hill quickly dispel that notion as a piece of fiction. Thoroughly set in the present day, Cusp reveals layers upon layers of teenage angst, showcasing a degree of universality with regard to this awkward era of people’s lives.

The film follows a trio of girls, Brittney, Aaloni, and Autumn, over the course of a summer in a small Texas town. There’s nothing to do but hang out aimlessly, drinking, smoking, and snorting coke. Normal 15-year-old activities. Caught in a kind of limbo between adolescence and adulthood, limited freedoms within a world still governed by their parents, these girls make the most of their time simply by spending it in each other’s company.

Referring to a work as remarkably mundane suggests a kind of insult, but the descriptor seems oddly fitting for the directors’ intentions. Bethencourt and Hill perfect a technique where their subjects seem barely aware of the cameras at all, a rare triumph in filmmaking. Likely desensitized by years of smartphone addiction, the teens really do go about their business as if there was no one in the room filming them.

That kind of mastery makes it easy to hop on board with Cusp’s intentionally meandering narrative, where nothing really happens. One can imagine there are reams of footage of even more mundane activity or early days where the teens may be phased by the cameras documenting their every move. Bethencourt and Hill’s deliberate curation works quite well toward its objective of capturing this fleeting era of teenage life.

Much of it is hard to watch. While it’s easy to be amused by a kid smoothly cutting lines of blow, himself obviously charmed by the camera following along as this minor shares his very illegal plunder, other sequences are bound to make anyone feel uncomfortable. A sequence where one of the girls fights with her father over his callous treatment of her sibling on their birthday heightens the sense of powerless that many feel at this age. You’re old enough to drive a car, but your dad can still make you change a top he doesn’t like.

Bethencourt and Hill take great care with regard to some of the film’s heaviest subjects. The effects of PTSD on veterans and their families are presented in a raw and deeply moving manner. One of the subjects almost nonchalantly recounts how she was molested by a close friend of her father’s. The girls possess a keen understanding of consent and the distance between one’s broader perception of the concept, and the reality of the world they live in.

In other instances, mountains are crafted out of molehills. Teenagers cry over broken hearts, failed relationships they’ll probably laugh about in a year’s time. Bethencourt and Hill expertly capture the zeitgeist of teenage existence. Everything feels like the most important thing in the world, at least until the next party comes along.

Cusp finds deep meaning in the act of hanging out. The kids are rarely far apart from their smartphones, but at least they’re doom scrolling together. Through their exceptional work Bethencourt and Hill reveal a kind of universality to teenage life. It’s not an easy time to be alive, spending your days with the knowledge that you’re on the cusp of something bigger.