BFF FILM & FESTIVAL BLOG
Everything Everywhere All at Once: A tale of the Simplest and Queerest of Loves
The movie, led by the fabulous Michelle Yeoh, under the creative supervision of the directorial duo of Daniels, and divided into three parts named in the title of the film itself- ‘Everything,’ ‘Everywhere’, and ‘All at Once,’ presents its viewers with a simple concept told through the hula hoops of the modern sci-fi tropes.
Review Written by Harhi Batt
Written by Harshit Bhatt
Every once in a while, a piece of work comes along, something that truly brings to the light the existence of the cosmos to the forefront for its spectators, something that breaks you, exhausts you, and yet in the end, you find yourself simply content and grateful that you got to look at something of this grandeur. Everything Everywhere and All at Once is all of this and then some more.
The movie, led by the fabulous Michelle Yeoh, under the creative supervision of the directorial duo of Daniels, and divided into three parts named in the title of the film itself- ‘Everything,’ ‘Everywhere’, and ‘All at Once,’ presents its viewers with a simple concept told through the hula hoops of the modern sci-fi tropes. The premise is set in a very conventional immigrant setting: a Chinese mother and father operating a small business, taking care of an elderly father, all the while fussing over their daughter’s lesbian identity. Evelyn Wang (Michelle Yeoh) and her husband Waymond Wang (Ke Huy Quan) find their biggest problem to be the Income Tax audit they have coming up, only to realize that it is the gateway to get sucked into a mind-bending whirlwind of cosmic chaos.
Though the summarization of the movie is almost impossible, this author, therefore, will try her best to give you her analysis. The first part, also being the longest part, titled ‘Everything,’ sets the notion of the abstract idea of the ‘road not taken’ very straightforwardly to its audience. The concept of the multiverse, though usually seen in the Marvel and DC comics, puts forth the possibilities of having different versions of the same person in all the different universes, who may have started from the same point in their lives but made different choices.
There is a version of Evelyn that was prolifically trained in martial arts and went on to become a cinematic legend, and then there is a version of her character that became a chef. There is also a version who had hot dogs for fingers and lives with the same IRS bureaucrat (Jamie Lee Curtis) who audited her laundromat. The main drama, however, comes back to the familial domain of a mother-daughter equation and how the daughter’s Queerness causes this utter annihilation of her mother’s universe.
Joy, Evelyn’s daughter, played by the show-stealing Stephanie Hsu, is an openly gay woman living the current twenty-first-century ideals of life. Her life, outside of her conventional Chinese immigrant parents’ house is probably brimming with colors of Pride and gender fluidity, yet unlike her glee-inducing name, it is the family house that her story is set and explored. One must also pay close attention to the idea of Joy’s alter ego, Jobu Tupaki’s depiction as the main villain or the great evil that must be eradicated is completely twisted and leaves the climax of the movie at a peak when during the early revelation of Jobu Tupaki leads Evelyn to shout in horror, “You’re why Joy thinks she’s gay.”
Tupaki’s response to that accusation is just as hilarious in her bedazzled Elvis Jumpsuit, but I shall leave that for you to explore on your own. The movie’s eventual resolution comes to the mundane realization in both the mother and daughter, that one must simply choose the choices they are making, especially when concerning a loved one, from a place of love and affection in their heart, not from a place of age-old prejudice and shame. The movie also includes a lot of Asian symbols, one being the googly eyes that Waymond plays with childishly, becoming almost like a third eye that helps Evelyn see her surroundings from a different perspective.
This movie has almost everything for everyone. Lauded by a worldwide audience, winning Yeoh her first Golden Globe and making her the first Asian woman to be nominated in the best actress category at the 2023 Oscars, Everything Everywhere All at Once gives you just right balanced taste of convention and rebellion with a kick of genre-bending chaotic queerness. Stephanie Hsu also has been nominated in the Best supporting actress category at the Oscars, bringing the total to a whopping 11 nominations in almost all the major categories. Though they just might be numbers to some of us, it really does bring to mind how different these award categories look than they did just a decade or two back. The film holds a 95% rating on Rotten Tomatoes if you still need some convincing.
About The Author
Mimi Cave Gives Audiences a Fresh Look into Modern Dating
Written by Katerina Plescia
Sebastian Stan as Steve (left) and Daisy Edger-Jones as Noa (right) in Fresh Photo Credit: Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures
Online dating has catapulted the millennial and Gen Z cohort from avoiding the awkward and often cringe-worthy “meet-cutes” that were made popular by Meg Ryan and Amanda Bynes, to safely taking refuge behind a screen and getting to know a partner through instant messaging and photographs found after hours of Instagram searching. The majority of users are well aware of the risks when signing their souls away to the cult of online dating apps. These include, but are not limited to: catfishing, stalking, scammers, cheating partners, weirdos, and much more. Struggling to find honesty and adoration, all online daters strive for the romance they’ve seen on the silver screen.
Mimi Cave’s directorial debut reveals an unusual and chilling approach to the unpredictable world of modern dating. As a consequence of living in a society where dating happens through emojis and Snapchats, prospective singles have lowered their standards when faced with dating in the real world. Cave explores the issue of lowering what one expects from a suitor’s pursuits and dives headfirst into a mysterious relationship in her thrilling film, Fresh. Beneath the horror atmosphere and shocking plot twists, Cave divulges how fast individuals are willing to trust when cinematic love is on the line.
Cave’s haunting narrative follows a young woman, Noa (Daisy Edgar-Jones), who has experienced her fair share of failure in the online dating community. In the first act, Noa exhibits an inability to connect with partners due to her negative outlook on the uncertainty of long-term commitment and men’s general dating etiquette. Upon meeting an attractive stranger at the supermarket, Noa and the man, Steve (Sebastian Stan), have a flirtatious exchange and go their separate ways after trading phone numbers.
Following a handful of successful dates, Noa’s prior pessimistic views are diminished due to Steve’s chivalrous and charming nature. Though the couple hasn’t been dating each other for long, Noa accepts Steve’s invitation to spend a weekend away in a remote “surprise” location. Abandoning the safety of the city and cell phone service, Noa’s whereabouts remain a mystery until her best friend, Mollie (Jonica T. Gibbs), senses something may be wrong. The second act of Cave’s masterpiece drastically changes the film’s genre from romantic comedy to a horrifying thriller.
Daisy Edgar-Jones as Noa (left) and Jonica T. Gibbs as Mollie (right) Photo Credit: Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures
While the genre shift in the midst of the film occurs and makes viewers anxious to watch Steve’s carnivorous habits, Cave utilized this tone change to her advantage in the narrative. As opposed to beginning the film with an ominous atmosphere, a familiar feeling for horror fans as audiences look onto an innocent family walking into a house of death, Cave chooses a unique route. Starting Fresh off as a romantic comedy, a young woman searching for love in a materialistic and online world, draws viewers into a story they can connect with. When discovering the truth about Steve, this discovery emulates how all victims feel when swindled by a catfish or liar. The shocking turn of events from romance to horror reveals the harsh nature of the modern world of dating.
Aside from the jaw-dropping plot and horrifying turn in events, Cave incorporated a subtle motif of feminism and the strength of platonic love throughout Fresh. From the first scene, Mollie openly speaks her mind and vocalizes her care for Noa’s well-being and happiness. As Steve swindells Noa and whisks her away to their “surprise” getaway, Mollie’s persistence and passion for Noa completely derails his plans. Cave breaks away from the traditional rom-com, where the girl and guy live happily ever after, and instead pits girl against guy with her ride or die. This theme proves to female audiences that not every partner will be the one and you will make regrettable mistakes, however, happiness and fulfillment come in a variety of forms. The love that Mollie and Noa have for each other, and their strength as young women, drives them to fight for their independence and survival.
The film premiered at the Sundance Film Festival in late January of 2022 before being released on the streaming platform, Hulu, on March 4th. The overall consensus surrounding the picture was positive, receiving 81% Rotten Tomatoes.
Director: Mimi Cave
Running Time: 1 hour 57 minutes
Trailer Link for Fresh
Katerina is a senior at Pace University in Pleasantville, NY. After graduation, she aspires to work as an entertainment journalist, centering her writing around music, film, and the arts. She grew up in Bethel, NY and is a dog mom to a Pitbull rescue, Maddie. Find more of her work on her website or Instagram.
Lovely or Harrowing? - A Review of Ashim Ahluwalia’s Miss Lovely
Written by Mirika Rayaprolu
Photo credit: Easel Films/Eagle Movies
Any average Indian’s Instagram feed is always filled with a hard 20% of engineering memes, a solid 80% of paparazzi shots of a ragged Ranbir Kapoor, and a pajama-clad Alia Bhatt grabbing an expensive cup of coffee in an expensive neighborhood like Juhu in Mumbai. Bollywood has always been the epitome of the glitz and glamor that artists strive to be a part of, thus laying a sacrificial amount of cards on the table. The amount of ‘give-up-everything’ has always baffled the Indian audience through Ted Talks and Zoom interviews. Basically, there is always a pedestal, an award, a badge of honor for the most suffered actor. However, the audience does a fabulous job at filtering the darkness out of Bollywood in spite of having considerable knowledge of what goes down in the basement of Bollywood.
Ashim Ahluwalia’s first feature narrative, Miss Lovely, portrays a brutal Bombay in the late 80’s and its interaction with a growing ‘C’ grade industry. The city of dreams saw a major influx of young women from all around the country, looking for jobs as actresses and models. The competition, corruption and lust-thirsty producers led to a huge number of these women entering the world of pornography, gangs and covert funding. Miss Lovely follows the story of one such adult film production house and its tango with the underworld grindhouse industry.
Two brothers, Vicky Duggal (Anil George) and Sonu (Nawazuddin Siddiqui) have been in the industry for years with their production house. The unchaste Vicky seems to have dabbled with big gang bosses for years, in an effort to continue funding the sex film studio. Sonu, with a relatively large conscience, gets sucked into the world of sex. But lo and behold! The man falls in love with a pale, white, long black-haired Pinky, and promises to cast her in a romantic film called ‘Miss Lovely’. He enjoys this feeling of being in love with Pinky until he starts to uncover a history that drives him into a frenzy. Ugh. Love.
The very easily sellable concept of success in the film industry in Bombay is somewhat of a quicksand patch. The more you step into it the worse, for the simple reason that the persistence of the mind to reach new heights of testing yourself never lapses. It behaves like a drug that makes you push yourself till the edge. Almost like a game of Jenga that grows increasingly perilous with each block you place on top, testing the extent of how tall your building can grow. My dearest, dearest Sonu and Pinky. I grew uneasy in my seat at the sight of a helpless Sonu and Pinky stumbling around like gasping fish in a shallow pond. The grains on the 16mm made me feel a chill of sadness as these women grew closer and closer to gold rings and expensive cigars. The sex parties that ruled the underground seemed wicked and yet opulent in its own regard making every wakeful audience aware of their own voyeurism. The direction was a Garden of Eden that had a golden space in the film’s flow.
Photo Credit: Easel Films/Eagle Movies
Love, lust, gangs, money, the polluted Bombay air and the very notion of scuttling around to make you love work, Ahluwalia’s gives you all of it. The uncanny location portrayal of what the city looked like in the 80’s was an all-immersive experience that acted on entertainment and the pique that the average viewer would feel about unregulated pornography. Ahluwalia’s documentary-style filmmaking takes us to an 80’s Bombay, right from the title cards to the credits. His way of conducting a shoot is very non-fiction-like and remains to be a visual-treat for all those who encounter his work, much like the great Mira Nair’s work that continues to be a module to be taught in every Indian film school, ‘Salaam Bombay’ being a personal favorite.
Was Miss Lovely harrowing or lovely? A peculiar concoction of both? Some things are better left unsaid. I’ll never know.
Director: Ashim Ahluwalia
Running Time: 110 minutes
Link to the Trailer- Miss Lovely | Trailer
Mirika is a current film student from Mumbai, India. She just moved to America and works as a freelance videographer and editor. Her interests lie in documentary and experimental filmmaking, and is keen on using film as a tool for advocacy. Find her on Instagram
What We Loved About Sundance
Written by Katerina Plescia
Still from The Janes courtesy of Sundance Institute
After their first virtual viewing experience, the 45th annual Sundance Film Festival commenced on January 20, 2022, in a hybrid form. Over the eleven-day celebration, artists presented their films through various online programs.
With the looming pressures of the Omicron variant and the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, the Sundance artists persevered to uphold the importance of gathering as a community. Regardless of the circumstances, the Sundance Film Festival reminded audiences that in these tough times, viewers should continue to come together and celebrate what the artists have to offer.
The Festival brought out a conglomeration of fantastic and culturally significant films. Each submission offered a glance into a variety of social and cultural lifestyles.
Filmmakers Tia Lessen and Emma Pildes premiered their documentary, The Janes, at the festival, enthralling audiences with a story of women who organized nearly 11,000 affordable illegal abortions in Chicago, IL prior to the passage of Roe v. Wade. While the documentary was impressive and educational for those unfamiliar with the situation, the film did not add anything new to the conversation. The revolution was primarily set in the late 1960s, however, bringing the story into the modern era would have granted it the potential missing element.
The film Midwives centered around the relationship between Muslims and Buddhists in Myanmar. Setting aside military differences, a Buddhist woman, Hla, and Nyo Nyo, a Muslim woman, worked together to treat Muslim patients. Sundance newcomer Snow Hnin Ei Hlaing’s feature debut was incredibly insightful, providing audiences with a close-up glance into the relations between Muslim Rohingya of Myanmar and Buddhists of Myanmar.
Still from Midwives courtesy of Sundance Institute
Reid Davenport’s experimental documentary, I Didn’t See You There, approached the viewpoint of a wheelchair user from a new perspective. Although Davenport is never seen on the big screen, the film consists of hand-held point-of-view shots, placing audience members in the shoes of a wheelchair user in America.
The 2022 celebration of the Sundance Film Festival lifted the spirits of community members and continued to spread their message of support to independent artists. The festival was packed with a total of 85 features, 59 short films, and much more. Filled with enlightening interviews, thoughtful conversations, and groundbreaking films, the Sundance Film Festival of 2022 has us on the edge of our seats waiting for next year.
Katerina is a junior at Pace University in Pleasantville, NY. After graduation, she aspires to work as an entertainment journalist, centering her writing around music, film, and the arts. She grew up in Bethel, NY and is a dog mom to a Pitbull rescue, Maddie. Find more of her work on her website or Instagram.
The Self and the Stranger: A Review of Language Lessons
Written by Kennedy McCutchen
Adam Duplass in Language Lessons Photo Credit: IMDB
It was only fitting that I took a friend I met on Bumble BFF to see a movie portraying the formation of an unconventional, technologically-dependent relationship. As we rode the subway into Brooklyn, we filled our would-be silences with lively and meaningful discussion about our favorite films, our romantic relationships, and our shared appreciation for learning. There were, as always, moments of vulnerability: some in an effort to keep the conversation alive, others to reveal ever-becoming parts of ourselves - our fears, ambitions, and turmoils - to demonstrate the authentic trust we were attempting to build with each other. We never really know the inner life of the stranger, however long we have known and loved said person, but we can make the valiant and potentially transcendental effort to try. And, not once, did we discuss our phones, friendship-meeting apps, or any other technological mechanism of communication. Nor do Cariño (Natalie Morales) and Adam (Mark Duplass) in Language Lessons.
Zoom feels quite camouflaged throughout the movie, though it is the only way we, as viewers, are able to see Morales and Duplass on screen together. It is never a point of discussion; it is simply a tool (an increasingly crucial one at that) to facilitate human exchange. The more contingent aspect of the film, and perhaps in our lives altogether, is the liminal relational space between two separate people, the self and the stranger, and the subsequent evolution of knowing, understanding, and loving.
Natalie Morales and Adam Duplass in Language Lessons Photo Credit: IMDB
Cariño and Adam’s platonic meet cute is predicated on Adam’s husband, Will, surprising Adam with one-hundred Spanish lessons taught by Cariño, who is based in Costa Rica. Their initial meeting, interrupted infrequently by internet glitches (that are surprisingly artful on film), is one of immediate kinship. Their bilingual banter exudes warmth and familiarity; while Cariño is certainly more reserved than her boisterous and chatty student, they meet one another with kind listening ears. The interplay of multiple languages, too, both emphasizes and marries their distinct personalities into a relationship that I and my friend found immediately compelling.
Like most relationships, however, tragedies and misunderstandings impede upon the pair’s closeness. Cariño consoles Adam in a time of loss. Cariño and Adam get closer, exchanging witty, humorous videos that reveal more of themselves and their personalities. Adam begins to assume Cariño is hiding a secret that keeps her in danger. Cariño lashes back at Adam, claiming he knows nothing about her. Adam beseeches Cariño to let him into her life. The art of conversation, the dance of getting to know one another continues.
I don’t state these plot points trivially. I state them so bluntly to emphasize how true-to-life Morales and Duplass kept their script, how effortlessly Morales’ direction captured a kind of immediacy and relatability which permitted us to see ourselves in these characters and honestly parallel the exchanges I have with the people I interact with on a daily basis. Whether it be the friendly Trader Joe’s grocer asking me if I found all that I needed on an isolated Thursday evening, or the mother I call when I’m feeling lost and overwhelmed, or the partner I both turn to and retreat from when I feel misunderstood and alone, all of my interactions are inevitable contestations that require choice in presentation, authenticity, and character, none of which are easy to determine. I can viscerally remember the last time I claimed to someone that they didn’t really know me, didn’t really understand what I was going through, not necessarily because they psychologically and pragmatically could not, but because I wanted to evade vulnerability and resist the other’s (or, in Lacanian and Camuian fashion, “The Other’s” or “The Stranger’s”) gaze that reflected what I was most avoidant of in myself.
Official poster for Language Lessons
Whether or not we confront alterity in ourselves and with each other is up to us. How we move forward and proceed with our own journeys in self-realization also rests in personal decision-making. Both choices, however, can be positively informed and influenced by art, especially in the cinema when the screen so often becomes a mirror. Films like Language Lessons succeed tremendously because they so beautifully explicate how hell really is other people, though not a demonic, stultifying hell. Hell, instead, is vital confrontation, intimacy, and, at its best and most terrifying, love.
Director: Natalie Morales
Running Time: 87 minutes
Currently playing in select theaters.
Trailer
“Here Comes the Content:” A Review of “Bo Burnham: Inside”
Bo Burnham stuns in his new Netflix special "Inside," probing us all to contemplate performativity, authenticity, and the troubled space of the Internet.
Written by Kennedy McCutchen
Photo Credit via Netflix
A disclaimer: prepare for hypocrisy. The following is an amateur review of a non-amateur comedy special about how internet-users are losing their mental health to Silicon Valley capitalists and becoming incrementally deluded in a very, very chaotic world. I am an internet-user. I am a white woman on Instagram who has certainly snapped pictures of “a simple glass of wine,” though I’ve poked fun at others for doing the same. I will happily watch YouTube compilation videos of John Mulaney on talk shows I’ve seen three times already. And now, I’m diligently going to explain to you why you should take note from Burnham, sing a song about the tragedy of our dying planet, put down the phone, and go outside. I sound like an authoritative figure on this kind of content, right?
Another imperative admission: I had never heard of Bo Burnham before watching this special (collective, pitying gasp). I knew nothing of his public upbringing on YouTube, his previous specials on Netflix, or his directorial debut Eighth Grade. I didn’t know that he used satirical ballads and pop songs to convey ever-ironic messages about culture, nor would I have fathomed my substantiated ability to watch and listen to each and every one of his specials with undivided attention. But now I know.
So where to begin with a special that encompasses the spectrum of human emotion performed by a stage persona whom we shouldn’t mistake for the real Burnham? This last note is up for debate, of course (artistic subjectivities, am I right?), but I wouldn’t take anything Burnham says or does in a moment of perceived vulnerability at face value. Afterall, a segment of Burnham playing a video-game of his projected isolationism subliminally reoccurs before the skit begins (around the fourteenth-minute), hinting that the entire show is a comedic mind-trick of the creator’s own doing, unsurprising given Burnham’s performance record.
Photo Credit via Netflix
The show is a visual-sonic masterpiece. Burnham showcases exquisite command over the song-writing, camera shots, light fixtures, and editing tempo. The latter is demonstrated in his tonal shift following the intermission. What begins as an upbeat, slightly demoralizing, white-saviour apology — cue “Comedy” and “Problematic” — becomes an unsparing, capitalism-critiquing, mental-health discussion — hello “All Time Low” and “That Funny Feeling.” Burnham reuses lyrics that take on new meaning by the end of the screening; “look who’s inside again” repeats itself with a solemnity that no longer feels mocking, and “you’re really joking at a time like this” reinforces the reality and severity of global circumstances that Burnham really doesn’t find very funny at all.
It’s increasingly hard to distinguish what in the “outside” world exists with a humbled authenticity and what exists for attention, and as I was researching for this review, the oversaturation of “Inside” opinions certainly felt like the latter. Are we (novice volunteers and salaried film critics alike) writing to truly celebrate Burnham’s achievement in accurately portraying the demise of a technologically-dependent society, or are we simply trying to be the first to over-analyze a creative venture that should be contemplated privately, introspectively, and thoughtfully? Perhaps the choices aren’t quite as binary as that, but when Burnham asks if it's necessary for every single person to express “every single opinion that they have on every single thing all at the same time,” there seems to be a pretty clear answer. He even parodies YouTube “reaction videos;” we, as public commentators, are quite literally the subject of his joke.
We’re not made fun of alone, however, because Burnham is also the butt of his joke. He mentions that, as the star of his self-directed special, he isn’t shutting up either, and he refuses to explain himself for it. Just as he sings in his infamous satire “Art is Dead,” we all just seem to be little attention attractors — and we’re lonely. Pandemic circumstances certainly haven’t made those traits any less palpable.
I think, ultimately, we’ve collectively determined that I’m not here to tell you what lessons are to be learned from “Inside,” but if I can relay one of Burnham’s most interesting suggestions, maybe, just for a second, we should all “shut the f*** up.”
Director: Bo Burnham
Running Time: 87 minutes
Available on Netflix
Stream the “Inside” album on Spotify and Apple Music
Hollywood - Where Dreams Come True?
Review of North Hollywood, directed by Mikey Alfred. A look into his debut film.
Written by Andrea Tangelo
Photo Credit: Kirk McKoy/ Los Angeles Times
When you think about Hollywood, what probably comes to mind is the glitz and glam of your favorite celebrities and the place where all the big-budget movies are made. But just like every other city that is known for a trademark phenomenon, the “native” locals have a different experience and bring other cultures that take part in that city.
Director Mikey Alfred shows us another side of Hollywood in his debut film North Hollywood, giving us a look into skate culture as we follow Michael’s character in his journey to becoming a pro skater. The film largely reflects Alfred’s life; as he grew up in North Hollywood, he aesthetically shows you his hometown through his eyes, birthing his auteurist style.
Before his debut feature, Alfred had created a few short films that heavily influenced the cinematography in North Hollywood. After utilizing a primarily indie LA -hip hop tracklist throughout the film, Alfred switches it up a bit by adding the 1950s rock and jazz sounds to set the tone for scenes, including the works of Arthur Lee Maye and The Crown, Shirley Horn, Bill Haley & His Comets and more musicians from that era. From local skateparks to the hangout spots where he and his skate group, Illegal Civilization, could be found, the backdrop for many of the locations in the film were locations that Alfred would frequent while growing up in North Hollywood. In fact, many of Alfred’s fellow skaters also played several lead roles in the film, enhancing the interplay between his own life and the film's fiction.
Photo Credit: Everett Collection
While the cinematography is amazing, the plot of the film tends to fall short. It becomes less about Michael’s professional skating and more about becoming an adult, making it more of a coming-of-age film than anything else. Pursuing a pro-skating career is where Michael learns the small lessons about being an adult as he is trying to make that first big step out of high school.We never really get to see him skate in the film, leaving the audience to question what the point is of the turmoil he was causing in his life; we as viewers don’t even know if he can genuinely skate.
Its linear structure forces us to focus on one theme and one person. The moment you get some type of character development, the film closes its doors. Michael projects his fear onto his friends and family by believing that they are not supporting his dreams. He pushes them away when he constantly gets caught lying to them about his whereabouts when hanging with a more well-known skate crew. The continuous cycle is played throughout the entire movie and ends when he has honest conversations, later finding out that they only want what is best and support him. These moments occur in the last ten minutes, ending with a scene of him skating off into the sunset, reciting a poem about the journey ahead being a lonely one. The audience never gets to see beyond this new learned experience, left wondering if Michael ever goes pro, but left with reassurance that he will always have the support of his loved ones.
Director: Mikey Alfred
Running Time: 93 Minutes
Available on select streaming services
Andrea is a Production Coordinator based in Brooklyn, NY whose true passion lies far away from the set and more on what is given on screen.
Reel Works’ Outcalt Award Nominees Shine in Virtual Screening
The nominees of the 2021 F. John Outcalt Award for Outstanding Filmmaking were highlighted at a virtual screening produced by Reel Works, a non-profit production company uplifting young people’s cinematic visions. Here are reviews of the dramas and documentaries directed by these incredible storytellers.
Written by Kennedy McCutchen
The nominees of the 2021 F. John Outcalt Award for Outstanding Filmmaking were highlighted at a virtual screening produced by Reel Works, a non-profit production company that empowers young storytellers through partnerships with filmmaking mentors and resources. Hosted by Bryan Clark, the night featured a combination of five different dramas and documentaries, followed by Q&A’s with each filmmaker. Reel Works’ efforts to uplift young people’s cinematic visions in New York City succeeded by leaps and bounds; by the end of the evening’s virtual screening, dozens of attendees had been moved to tears by these young visionaries. The nominees and their respective films are featured below.
Photo Credits: Shot from “MerryMakers” via Reel Works YouTube channel
“MerryMakers”
Directed by Elena Goluboff
Running Time: 10 minutes
Watch on YouTube
Goluboff’s techniques feel effortless and well-executed in a short film about two young girls growing apart while maintaining their independence. The film begins with 12:17 am flashing brightly on the screen as two thirteen-year-olds, Maya and Nora, contemplate their boredom inside a dimly lit bedroom. Maya, sensing Nora’s dissatisfaction with their night, proposes venturing out past curfew into the streets of New York, silently hoping to win back her friend whose emotional distance is palpable.
The use of a handheld camera closely follows their whimsical journey as Maya’s subdued narration ponders her friend’s growing distance. Eventually, the pair stumble into a man abusing his girlfriend; while their childlike whimsy dissipates, their empowerment does not. Maya throws a glass bottle at the man to disrupt the scene. Running away, Maya and Nora encounter more obstacles. They are arguing about whether to return inside when they see Maya’s dad awake in the house. Tension builds as Maya realizes that not all friendships are meant to last, and she once again asserts her strength by going against Nora’s demands, turning the key to unlock the door to her home.
“Under the Sun”
Directed by Jesus Luna
Running Time: 8 minutes
Watch on YouTube
Luna investigates the complexities and intersections of religion and science via his family members’ experiences with sleep paralysis. Juxtaposing shots of color and black and white, the eight-minute documentary showcases interviews of Luna’s aunt and uncle relaying their sleep paralysis histories. The dichotomy of religion and science arises in those diplomatic confrontations; his uncle, Gabriel, seeks to understand through his faith by taking up consistent prayer, while his aunt, Yvonne, attempts to remedy her episodes by managing her stress and maintaining a regular sleep schedule. Luna expertly includes Father Espinal, a Catholic priest, who unexpectedly bridges the divide between Luna’s family members. “There seems to be a false dichotomy that exists between science and faith,” the priest asserts, seeking consensus and understanding. Luna concludes the film with a similar tone, reinforcing his efforts to find not only underlying meaning but greater purpose and cohesion in the ordinary events of a life.
Photo Credits: Shot from “Under the Sun” via Reel Works YouTube channel
“Normal Family”
Directed by Maya Velazquez
Running Time: 9 minutes
Watch on YouTube
It was hard not to be incredibly touched by the love story of Velazquez’s mothers, Maritza and Jeannette. Velazquez’s documentary did not feel like her first; her artistic choices appeared like those of an experienced and powerful storyteller. The timing of her edits showed true mastery over material that was so deeply personal and profound.
“I love her. She’s my best friend… That’s what it’s all about. It’s about love.”
Moving between home videos of the past and glimpses of the present, Velazquez recounts her surprise after learning about the difficult battles each of her mothers underwent when coming out to their respective families. Their journey for authenticity and honesty is enhanced by the mise-en-scene of Maritza in the grocery store, of Jeannette running errands in the car, and of her brother, Marcus, playing Jenga. These small shots of the ordinary echo the wonderful life Velazquez continues to share with her family amidst injustice, intolerance, and pain.
“Who Is It?
Directed by Marcus Cochran
Running Time: 11 minutes
Watch on YouTube
Cochran’s drama is a nod to traditional film noir with a twist of the contemporary. Shot in black and white: Cochran directs a tense exchange between a father, Joseph, and a son, Michael. The son, diagnosed with multiple personality disorder, struggles to confront his selfish and manipulative father. Upon arrival, Joseph feigns celebration for his son’s birthday, only to mischievously grab at Michael’s wallet by the end of the evening. As the camera shifts from wide shots to close-ups, viewers watch Michael muster the strength to confront his abuser and subsequently his childhood trauma, tackling the horrors of his past while accepting who he is now.
Photo Credits: Shot from “What We Owe to Ourselves” via Reel Works YouTube channel
“What We Owe to Ourselves”
Directed by Khiari Jaffier
Running Time: 10 minutes
Watch on YouTube
Jaffier professionally excavates the conflict between the capitalist dollar and self-actualization in his documentary, “What We Owe to Ourselves.” Jaffier’s expert narration plays over shots of paintings, high school hallways, and assorted creative spaces as he contemplates how young people’s artistic ambitions can be squashed by incentives to dive into “safer” career choices.
“Life hasn’t gotten easier, it’s just gotten noisier.”
Erik Satie’s “Gymnopédie 1” ripples over interviews with aspiring students, like Paolo whose passion for the piano is evident in his earnestness. In a conversation regarding the essence of creativity, Paolo mentions that “it’s all kind of cheesy stuff, but I like the cheesy stuff.” It’s these small idiosyncratic moments captured on film that makes Jaffier’s inquiry into becoming such a pleasure.
All of these young filmmakers showcased true mastery over cinematic techniques in their own unique ways. Jesus Luna was announced the winner of the Outcalt award at Reel Works’ virtual 20th Anniversary Gala on May 26th with his film “Under the Sun.” You can donate to Reel Works’ efforts here.
Magaluf Ghost Town: Dropping the Curtain on Low-Cost Tourism
Magaluf Ghost Town, from Director Miguel Ángel Blanca, explores the inner workings of an island town with a reputation as a wild party destination for foreign tourists. Blanca points his camera at the locals who live in Magaluf year-round, and defies the rules of documentary by blending fact and fiction.
Written by Marisa Bianco
Photo Credit Catalan Films
On the island of Mallorca, the Spanish beach town Magaluf has an extravagant reputation in both Spain and the UK. As an American living in Spain, I had never heard of it, but my British friends immediately recognized Magaluf. They could speak to its infamy as a cheap, revelrous destination for young Brits. Magaluf has been the subject of British reality shows such as “Geordie Shore” (a variation on Jersey Shore) and sensationalized news stories that have created a self-fulfilling prophecy in the town. The TV cameras flock there because of its reputation for wild and uninhibited tourism. In turn, the airing of the news stories and reality shows further increases its notoriety, attracting more foreigners who are inclined to public debauchery.
Director Miguel Ángel Blanca subverts this expectation for derangement. Instead, he points the camera toward the Magaluf locals in his new documentary Magaluf Ghost Town, which premiered at the 2021 Hot Docs Festival. Blanca casts an array of Magaluf locals from different places and generations who he films reenacting events in their lives as well as their dreams and fantasies. These characters are shown inside their homes, close-up and intimately. We never see tourists like this. Instead, we see them as the locals see them—from afar, in the background, seemingly from another planet. In this way, the film invites us to question our perspective. Why are we drawn to, at least in part, the sensationalization of the revelry and fornication? The news stories and reality TV specials wouldn’t exist without a willing audience who wants to see these tourists’ uninhibited escapades. The film confronts us with this. We want the camera to zoom in, to look closer at the tourists. Instead, they are lurking around the characters. When the camera finally points to them, the score changes to something resembling a horror soundtrack.
The film’s narrative is both circular and linear. The first thing we hear is children whisper-singing a song, in English, about Magaluf. The lyrics are bright and optimistic (“The sun is always high down here in Magaluf”), but the whispers are thoroughly chilling. While the song plays, we see the manufacturing of an aerial model of Magaluf that becomes a motif throughout the film. The camera keeps returning to the model’s tiny hotels and golf courses between scenes. After the model is built, the film opens to the real Magaluf, empty before the high season, with scenes of a quiet beach accompanied by a lullaby-like score. As the tourists arrive, the lullaby shifts to the horror music.
The film ends when the tourists leave. It’s a complete circle—the hotels are quiet once again, and the lullaby soundtrack returns. When the visuals fade to black, we again hear the whisper-singing children. As the credits roll, the children’s voices disappear into the 1987 cult hit “Come to Magalluf” by Brios. The seamless transition from a silent accompaniment to 1980s disco-pop is eerie, as we realize the children were singing the pop song all along.
Photo Credit Catalan Films
The main characters are Tere, an older woman mourning her late husband who, out of economic necessity, takes in a Malian flatmate, Cheickne, and Rubén, a young gay student who aspires to be an actor, but feels trapped by Magaluf. Blanca introduces the characters with immediate life and death stakes. Tere is trying to quit smoking after a month-long stay in the hospital; she says that she must choose between smoking and her life. Rubén is doing a photoshoot with friends in a creepy shed where a man was allegedly burned alive. They take photos of each other playing dead, laughing with a disturbing levity.
With these characters, we see that Magaluf isn’t just a “ghost town” when the tourists are gone. Magaluf and its residents have an unmistakable supernatural sensibility. Tere tells Cheikne about her nightmares. She says, “I can feel it in my bones, something is going to happen here...What is it? I don’t know. But there’s something.” Meanwhile, Rubén says that people in Magaluf are “excited that something incredible could happen.” This idea of premonition is felt differently among the two generations, but the expectancy is there nonetheless.
The film’s climax revolves around a culmination of the supernatural within the characters. Rubén and his boyfriend kidnap a British tourist and take him to an uninhabited island just off the coast of Magaluf, where they take his clothes and abandon him. This abduction is interrupted by a scene of Tere seeing a medium, who tells her that her late husband has not yet crossed from our world. Another character, Russian real estate agent Olga, talks to her daughter about how she can feel the presence of people who have died. She says “don’t be afraid” that someone is with us, but unnerving music plays in the background. Despite her assurance, I am very much afraid.
Just as the characters explore the boundary between our world and the world of fantasmas (ghosts and spirits), the film explores the boundary between fiction and reality. The kidnapping scene is made to look real, as Blanca intersperses his footage with clips of the boys’ Instagram or Snapchat stories with messages like “Buscando víctimas.” I almost wondered whether I was watching an actual abduction. This confusion is intentional—everything we see is meant to be uncertain. With Blanca’s camera, nightmares and fantasies are made real.
Photo Credit Catalan Films
There is a constant sense throughout the film that Magaluf is a paradox. Rubén feels trapped; he expresses that their destiny is to go to school to learn to serve “guiris” (pale-skinned foreigners) and make guiris happy. At the same time, he feels that anything can happen in Magaluf, even something “magical.” Furthermore, the film portrays tourists like foreign invaders, wreaking havoc on the locals’ lives with their drunken exploits. But without the tourists, Magaluf wouldn’t have an economy. The locals wouldn’t be able to live. Is the solution then with Olga, the real estate agent who wants to clean up the town’s party strip and attract wealthier Europeans over the young vacationers? The mansion she shows contrasts so strikingly to Tere and Rubén’s cramped quarters. Her vision doesn’t necessarily seem like a more attractive option.
I watched Magaluf Ghost Town twice, before and after a weekend on the beach. I was in Fuengirola on Spain’s Costa del Sol, another popular Mediterranean destination among British tourists and retirees. Fuengirola is the type of town built for holiday-makers, full of hotels and apartment rentals with balconies and terraces looking towards the sea or the mountains. It lacks the Spanish character found in other towns in the region. Watching the film’s dichotomy between the “guiris” and the locals was strange because I felt like I didn’t belong in either box. Despite being considered a “guiri” for speaking English, I am not necessarily a tourist. Am I blending into the town’s fabric of locals, or am I a tourist invader? I don’t know the answer, but I know that Blanca’s perspective has made me look at myself and this country I call my second home in a new way.
Magaluf Ghost Town is the type of documentary that is not only beautifully shot but also defies the rules of documentary filmmaking, making it even more memorable and emotionally stirring.
Title: Magaluf Ghost Down
Director: Miguel Ángel Blanca
Running Time: 93 minutes
Year: 2021
'Shiva Baby' Review: A Comedy With Bite
Wayward soon-to-be college graduate Danielle is desperate to conceal the truth when she attends a Jewish funeral service with her parents and unexpectedly runs into an ex-girlfriend and her current sugar daddy.
Written by Aubrey Benmark
Molly Gordon as Maya. (Utopia)
Rachel Sennott as Danielle and Polly Draper as Debbie. (Utopia)
Diana Agron as Kim and Danny Deferrari as Max. (Utopia)
The tension is wound tighter than an egg timer in Emma Seligman’s debut feature film Shiva Baby, based on her short film of the same name. While attending a Jewish funeral gathering with her parents, a young woman fretfully attempts to maintain self-control and keep the truth from being exposed when she encounters her ex-girlfriend and current sugar daddy.
“What’s my sound bite again?” Danielle (Rachel Sennott) asks her parents before entering the suburban home where the shiva is already underway for a family friend. She wants to make sure they’re all on the same page when inquisitive minds, or simply meddlesome relatives, ask about her professional prospects after college. Danielle’s meager achievements fall far below expectations, so they concoct a vague lie to save face, a tactic she is not unfamiliar with. Her quarrelsome parents Debbie (Polly Draper) and Joel (Fred Melamed) have no idea their daughter is a sugar baby, a young woman who offers attention and sexual favors to older men for money. Danielle just came from a rendezvous with Max (Danny Deferrari), her primary source of income, unbeknownst to her as a former employee of her father.
As they head into the shiva, Danielle spots Maya (Molly Gordon), her childhood bestie and former girlfriend with whom she still has explosive chemistry and unresolved tension. Debbie instructs Danielle, “No funny business with Maya,” an unnecessary line her daughter is bound to cross. Once inside, Danielle is further harried by stiff small talk, prying questions, and contentious conversations with Maya, all before she can make a plate at the buffet table. Almost every woman at the party comments on her weight, more concerned than complimentary, with one acquaintance flat-out suggesting Danielle has an eating disorder. Her mother quips, “You look like Gwenyth Paltrow on food stamps, and not in a good way.” As if there weren’t enough anxiety-inducing interactions on the menu, enter Max, the sugar daddy with his own secrets to hide, soon joined by his gorgeous and successful wife Kim (Dianna Agron) and their infant daughter. Too stressed to eat, Danielle blunders from room to room trying not to cause a scene, but she often fails with amusing and painfully awkward results.
The ensemble cast offers superb character work, with Rachel Sennott delivering a stand-out performance. Much of the comedy and drama hinges on her facial expressions alone. The film’s darkly comedic tone is accentuated by a discordant string-laden musical score more evocative of horror or psycho thrillers, revealing Danielle’s inner struggles and heightening the tensity of an ordinarily somber occasion. The score is coupled with tight close-ups and handheld camerawork that only add to the sense of claustrophobia. As a result, the audience is given an obtrusive view, as if they were another mourner at the shiva, gawking as the drama unfolds.
Director: Emma Seligman
Running Time: 77 minutes
Available: on VOD and in select theaters
'Tina' Review: Her Story on Her Terms
The HBO documentary Tina delves into the personal life and career of rock icon Tina Turner. Utilizing never before released sound recordings and archival footage, the film exposes how media coverage of her abusive first marriage to Ike Turner furthered her traumatization, but never overcast Tina’s phenomenal talent.
Written by Aubrey Benmark
Tina Turner in 1973 Photo Credit Rhonda Graam/Courtesy of HBO
The new HBO documentary Tina, directed by Dan Lindsay and TJ Martin, examines the personal life and decades-long career of the legendary singer Tina Turner. It begins with archival footage of her performing “Ask Me How I Feel” to a packed stadium of energized fans fueled by Tina’s powerful voice. The concert’s visuals continue as the music fades into an old sound clip of a reporter asking Tina if anyone has approached her to make or create the story of her life.
She replied, “Yes, but I don’t want to play the part. I’ve done it. . . It was just so unlike me, my life, that I don’t want anyone to know about it. . . it wasn’t a good life. It was in some areas, but the goodness did not balance the bad. So it’s like, not wanting to be reminded. You don’t like to pull out old clothes, you know?”
Tina truly donned many costumes and played many roles in her life: singer, dancer, mother, daughter, a survivor of domestic abuse, a triumphant star. And yet, throughout much of it, she lacked the agency to make her own choices. Tina, a story told in five compelling acts, allows the singer to take control of her narrative and put the final footnotes in the margins.
Tina was born Anna Mae Bullock in 1939 and raised by sharecroppers who grew cotton on a farm fifty miles outside of Memphis, TN. Her parents fought constantly. They eventually abandoned Tina and her siblings, leaving them in the custody of an older cousin with next to nothing. At the age of seventeen, she met Ike Turner when she went with her sister to see his band play, billed the hottest band in town. Intent on being in the band, Tina relentlessly urged Ike to hear her sing, although she knew nothing of show business at the time— a weakness Ike would later exploit in his favor. They were never legally married, but without asking, Ike gave her the name Tina Turner and declared them a couple as a marketing ploy to sell more records.
From 1962 to 1978, they were Ike and Tina Turner, the sensational music duo. Tina dazzled onlookers with her undeniable talent. The documentary is flush with recordings of live performances that ignite fans as much today as they did back then. It seems unfathomable that the same person was simultaneously experiencing what Tina described as “basic torture.”
“I was living a life of death. I didn’t exist. But I survived it. And when I walked out, I walked. And I didn’t look back,” Tina said.
Ike got everything they built together. During Tina and Ike’s divorce proceedings, Tina asked for nothing but her stage name. Now in her forties, Tina used it to propel herself forward, dreaming of being the first black rock and roll star to fill stadiums like The Rolling Stones. However, she was hindered by an ageist, racist, and misogynistic industry that didn’t understand her or why she was no longer with Ike.
In 1981, to distance herself from her former partner and establish herself as a solo act, Tina did an interview with People magazine detailing some of the brutality she suffered at the hands of Ike Turner. She hoped it would make interviewers stop questioning her about him, but it only made their questions more intrusive. After the success of her debut album, 1984’s Private Dancer, the intrigue around her marriage grew. She penned I, Tina, with co-author Kurt Loder in 1986, hoping that she could put the story out there and be done with it. Instead, it became public domain.
Official Release Poster HBO
The film delves further into how the extensive and invasive media coverage of the abuse she endured perpetuated her traumatization, specifically obscene questions from various TV interviewers over the years. “Is there a real lowlight, something you’d love to forget?”, one reporter asked Tina, as if she were there only to give him salacious sound bites about domestic violence. Her husband and partner for the last 35 years, former music executive Erwin Bach, likened her experience to “a soldier coming back from the war.” Tina didn’t want to revisit the battleground.
While Tina recounts some of the savageries she experienced during her marriage to Ike, it doesn't show it or glorify it. The documentary focuses on how the media’s sensationalizing of her story affected Tina throughout the rest of her career despite her enormous success. It is the story of an amazingly talented woman trying to come to grips with why the darkest parts of her life could become such an inspiration for many, but also a sick fascination for others.
During Tina’s interview for the film, at the age of 80, she said, "You let it go because it only hurts you. Not forgiving, you suffer, 'cause you think about it over and over again. And for what? I had an abusive life. There's no other way to tell the story. It's a reality, it's a truth. That's what you've got. So you have to accept it."
In many ways, Tina's 1981 interview with People magazine was a #metoo moment long before social media existed, and a long time before women felt safe discussing domestic violence or sexual abuse publicly. In the end, Tina’s fans aren't inspired by the gory details of the torture she suffered. Instead, they are inspired by her musical legacy, the courage it took to share her story, and her determination to rise above it.
‘Tina’
Directed by: Daniel Lindsay & T. J. Martin
Running Time: 1 hour, 58 minutes
Streaming: HBO Max
