the light (and darkness) of the silver screen

Let’s just get it out of the way: The Telluride by the Sea experience is rarely fun. Even when the films are not dark (Wisconsin Death Trip), grim (Fateless), sad (A Song for Martin) or offensive (Edmond), they are, at the very least, difficult (Time for Drunken Horses) confounding (Enduring Love) and occasionally simply impenetrable (Cache). There are brighter points, to be sure (Better than Sex), and, at times, even some star power on hand (Dogville, Finding Neverland, Being Julia). But, more often than not, the subject matter that illuminates The Music Hall’s screen in the third weekend of each September is decidedly not for the faint of heart.

A truism in art is that light must be described by the shape of the shadows around it. Beyond the simple technology of capturing light in an emulsion on a strip of celluloid, it would bear out that the art of filmmaking, and of storytelling, at its best, also can’t shy away from darkness. The power and poetry of love, joy and life is often best expressed in the relief of loneliness, pain and death. And, if Telluride by the Sea has a point, that may be it.

Bill Pence, co-founder of the world renowned Telluride Film Festival in Colorado and curator of Telluride by the Sea, says, “The most important and affecting stories are always the ones that deal with—and make an audience deal with—significant, serious human issues.” Life, it turns out, is hard, and so too are the Telluride by the Sea selections. He adds, “These movies may not be the easiest, but damnit, they’re good for you.”

Pence selects the films with great deliberation, even though he admits he hasn’t actually seen any of this year’s films. Since his retirement from the Telluride Festival last year, he says that is certainly the biggest difference from years past. “We’ll be sitting in the audience with our neighbors this time, watching the films for the first time with everybody else. It’ll be great to be there to talk about the films while they’re still fresh in our minds,” Pence said. Also, with the considerable responsibilities of running the international event behind him, he’s enjoyed having more time to focus on the Portsmouth lineup, really cherry picking the titles.

In the past, print availability and security issues kept him from landing many films he would have liked to include. “Babel,” for example, would have screened in last year’s Telluride by the Sea, were it not having it’s national opening the same week. “Last King of Scotland,” which also premiered in Colorado, was refused to Portsmouth by 20th Century Fox due to concerns it might be taped and slip out on the Internet. This year, however, with the help of Telluride’s new management, he was able to acquire exactly the films he wanted. “It’s a very strong program this year, possibly our strongest yet,” he said. “Three of them premiered at Cannes, and three had their world premieres at Telluride.”

Many people see movies as simple diversions, escapism, an easy means to forget the problems of the day, leave the taxes and the fuel prices behind and watch someone else fight giant robots for a couple of hours. There are more of them than there are of us, and that’s a fact. Compare a list of any given year’s top 10 best grossing films to the top 10 most favorably reviewed, and you’ll discover a lamentable disparity. All fun aside, it takes a bold heart and a brave spirit to square off with a film that will defy given impressions, provoke new ways of thinking and possibly even stimulate real emotional development. The continuing popularity of Telluride by the Sea, not just in light of, but even in spite of, the challenges posed by Pence’s programming decisions is a bold testament to the quality of our community’s taste, curiosity and courage. These are not just rare films; the Seacoast’s is a rare audience. So brace yourself, get ready to see something you’ve never seen before, and join Bill Pence at the front of the line.

Based on Jon Krakauer’s book of the same name, “Into the Wild” follows the tragic path of Christopher McCandless (Emile Hirsch), who, after graduating from Emory University in 1992, ditched his car, gave away his savings and headed west. His goal: to reach Alaska and live, alone, in the wilderness. McCandless’ odyssey proved fatal—he starved to death after four months. His emaciated body was discovered in a broken-down city transit bus from the 1940s.

Writer-director Sean Penn spent the last 10 years trying to adapt Krakauer’s book for the big screen, a quest that, at times, probably seemed as long and torturous as McCandless’ quest for solitude. Penn, an actor and director known for his hot temper and passionate politics, persevered, and the result is a film that celebrates the natural wonder McCandless sought, while remaining impartial about the man and his decisions. Penn kept the production fiercely devoted to the book, structuring the film around flashbacks narrated by McCandless’ sister (played in the film by Jena Malone) and passages from McCandless’ journals. Penn filmed much of the movie on location and even provided photography, along with cinematographer Eric Gautier. “Into the Wild” looks and feels breathtaking, an epic sort of classic road movie that’s at once grand and intensely personal.

Even now, more than a decade after his death, McCandless’ actions stir up controversy. Regarded by some as a solitary sojourner in the tradition of Thoreau and by others as a mentally ill young man with a decided lack of survival skills, McCandless is a compelling figure. Already, Emile Hirsch, who portrays McCandless, is attracting notice for his go-for-broke performance. Hirsch lost 40 pounds, kayaked through raging rapids and did most of his own stunts, further adding to “Into the Wild’s” realism. Hirsch is backed by an impressive cast, including William Hurt and Marcia Gay Harden as his parents and Catherine Keener, Vince Vaughan and Hal Holbrook as friends he met during his journey.

“Into the Wild” may also be a turning point for Penn’s career. His politics have taken center stage over the last few years, and his previous films, including 2001’s “The Pledge,” have been capable, but ultimately too wrapped up in themselves. “Into the Wild” is just as reflective and concerned with its lead character’s inner life as Penn’s previous work, but it also has a grander, more open scope. “Into the Wild” may end up being as transformative for some viewers as it was for Penn and Hirsch. 

What do “Persepolis,” the 2007 adaptation of Marjane Satrapi’s autobiographical graphic novel, and “300,” an adaptation of Frank Miller’s graphic novel about war and manliness in ancient Greece, have in common, aside from their comic book origins? Both managed to get ringing denouncements from political leaders in Iran for portraying the nation in a bad light. The complaints about “300” were a stretch—although geographically the same, the Persian Empire in “300” and modern-day Iran are about as different as you can get. While it is less bombastic than sword-swinging Spartans, “Persepolis” is certainly incendiary, and with good reason. An animated warning against religious fundamentalism, “Persepolis” tackles a heavy topic using lush black and white animation and a vibrant sense of humor.

“Persepolis” tells the story of Satrapi’s girlhood in Iran during the Islamic Revolution and, later, during the first years of the Iran-Iraq War. Harrowing, heartbreaking and hilarious, the graphic novel “Persepolis” is a powerful piece of comic art in the tradition of Art Speigleman’s “Maus.” The film adaptation promises much of the same—Satrapi wrote and co-directed the movie, along with collaborator Vincent Paronnaud. The film, animated in a style similar to Satrapi’s art, is simple and elegant, colored in rich black and white and possessing a depth that belies its traditional 2-D animation.

Satrapi was eight years old when fundamentalists took control of Iran. She was 14 when her progressive parents sent her to Vienna, alone, fearing for her safety. The years in between are the focus of Satrapi’s film, following her growth from childhood to adolescence while she struggles to understand the massive social and political upheavals in her homeland. Sometimes, the changes are funny: during one sequence, young Marjane has to come up with a preposterous story about why she’s wearing Nikes and a Michael Jackson button while shopping for black market cassettes in order to avoid being picked up by agents of the Revolution. But, at other times, the transitions are painful: most of Marjane’s family members leave the country, and she must face the deaths of friends and relatives at the hands of both the Revolution and the subsequent war with Iraq. Through it all, though, “Persepolis” maintains Satrapi’s characteristic voice, sad but hopeful, her sarcasm and cynicism tempered by optimism.“Persepolis” won the Prize of the Jury at Cannes earlier this year and was denounced by the Iranian government shortly after it premiered at the festival. For a film so thoroughly opposed to totalitarian fundamentalism and so celebratory of individuality, that denouncement could be the best praise of all. 

Let’s all hope writer/director Noah Baumbach never gets the therapy he so clearly needs. His affinity for callous, bitter, disenfranchised intellectuals and the horrible things they do to each other goes right back to his first comedy, “Kicking and Screaming,” from 1995. Director Wes Anderson tapped him to write the equally unsociable “The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou” in 2004. However, it was with last year’s delightfully acidic, transparently autobiographical “The Squid and the Whale,” starring Jeff Daniels and Laura Linney as a pair of parents blithely raking their children over the hot coals of their icy divorce, that Baumbach really came into his own. It was a scary treat to be shown how deep sharp wit can really cut, especially within the intimacy of the family unit.

With “Margot at the Wedding,” Baumbach’s talent for torturous familial disconnection takes a step further into darkness. Nicole Kidman, as Margot, and Jennifer Jason Leigh (recipient of a coveted Telluride tribute in 1994), as Pauline, deliver piercing performances as bitterly estranged sisters, reunited on the occasion of Pauline’s marriage. As Baumbach channels the late, great Ingmar Bergman, the sisters play almost as opposing sides of the same person, mercilessly needling each other about their respectively embarrassing histories with a ruthlessness that only kin could breed.

Depending on how you were raised—or who you were raised with—you may or may not find it in your heart to call this a comedy. Baumbach would seem to know better than anyone that the word “smarts” also means “hurts.” 

Bob Dylan has always kept both his fans and his detractors on their toes. The folk icon has reincarnated himself enough times to make a well-trained bloodhound lose his scent. A simple, Jewish guitarist from Minnesota, he emerged to lead the folk renaissance of the 1960s and become one of the most empowered political spokespersons of his time (much to his own chagrin). With each transition in his life, from folksinger to electric rocker to born-again Christian to Victoria Secret commercial star, Dylan has never failed to simultaneously outrage loyal fans and win over new devotees.

Considering all the transformations, it is fitting that Dylan should be portrayed by six different actors, each representing a different phase in his life and career. In “I’m Not There,” the new biographical feature about Dylan and his work, the musician is played by actors ranging from Cate Blanchett to Christian Bale to Heath Ledger to Richard Gere. (All interesting choices, seeing as one thing Dylan has never been known for is his good looks.) Directed by Todd Haynes, the film carries viewers through a whirlwind tour of the 66-year-old legend’s life and times, documenting both the waves he made in society and how the force of those waves nearly drowned him—all in two hours and 15 minutes.

Making a biographical film about Bob Dylan has got to be one of the most daunting challenges a filmmaker can undertake. While numerous written biographies and film documentaries about the artist have been released, including Martin Scorsese’s “Bob Dylan: No Direction Home” in 2005, this is the first feature-length film in which big-time Hollywood actors play the Bobfather. Other recent blockbusters about musicians, such as “Ray” and “Walk the Line,” benefited from standout performances by Jamie Foxx as Ray Charles and Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Cash. But “I’m Not There” requires six actors to capture Dylan’s enigmatic character, as well as his distinctive, nasally voice.

Haynes adopted a rather daring approach to the film, with radical shifts between different segments of Dylan’s life. In each chapter, the new Dylan impersonator takes on a different name. At turns, the artist is played by an 11-year-old black boy (Marcus Carl Franklin) and a 38-year-old Australian woman (Blanchett). The film also features a plethora of other actors in non-Dylan roles, including David Cross as beat poet Allen Ginsberg and Julianne Moore as an ex-lover.

The film looks promising enough. If nothing else, it features plenty of original Dylan songs, as well as covers by other artists. Even if it fails to connect with a mainstream audience, the movie is certain to attract large crowds of Dylan enthusiasts and music connoisseurs. It’s hard to say whether Dylan’s personal approval of the film is a good sign or not, but it will almost certainly be interesting to find out. Something is happening here, even if Bob doesn’t know what it is. 

Writing is a craft that takes a lifetime of discipline to master. While we can all manipulate language, it’s those few who have the strength of will to diligently work on their craft every day who become truly great, and their words become so powerful that they help us understand ourselves and our world.

Imagine, then, the will and the words of Jean-Dominique Bauby, a renowned French journalist who suffered a stroke at the age of 43, which left him mute and paralyzed. Many people in his position, one imagines, would have suffered silently, trapped in their own minds, but Bauby instead set out to write his memoir by composing it wholly in his head and then dictating it one letter at a time, blinking his left eyelid when a person reciting the alphabet reached the letter he wanted.
Letter by letter, word by word, page by page, he built a book with the sheer strength of his spirit and the skill of his craft. “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” was released in 1997 and became both critically acclaimed and a popular bestseller.

Bauby died three days after it was published.

Director Julian Schnabel has already proven his skill with literary biopics, including the Oscar-nominated film “Before Night Falls,” which looked at the life of Cuban poet and novelist, Reinaldo Arenas. With a screenplay by Ronald Harwood (“The Pianist,” “Being Julia”), “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly” promises to be a remarkable experience. 

There aren’t many reasons why eight members of the Alexandrian Police Orchestra would venture into the Israeli desert, but when a new Arab arts center opens, they decide to make the trip. Unfortunately, the musicians never make it to the opening, and through a series of mishaps, the officers/musicians get stranded in a small Israeli desert town. When a sexy café owner, Dina, puts them up for the night, the band members learn as much about themselves as they do about Israeli culture.
Egypt and Israel have had a checkered history. At times they’ve been allies, at others they’ve been enemies. Any cross-cultural confrontation has the potential for disaster. The relationship that quickly emerges between Dina and the bandleader shows how the similarities between two people can overcome the rift between their respective countries.
“The Band’s Visit” was written and directed by 34-year-old Israeli filmmaker Eran Kolirin. Although it is Kolirin’s first feature-length film, it has already garnered widespread acclaim, receiving three awards at the illustrious Cannes Film Festival in France. Many critics predict that the film will be well received and highly regarded when it opens in Israel. But Kolirin hopes “The Band’s Visit” will eventually find its way to the Egyptian screen. Icy relations between the two countries have made it difficult for Israeli filmmakers to debut their work in Egypt.

It would be hard for audiences of any ethnicity to resist the deadpan humor and desert imagery that Kolirin weaves together in “The Band’s Visit.” The filmmaker’s sense of composition and cinematography has been called witty and powerful. An example of his eye for composition is how he juxtaposes the powder blue uniforms of the Alexandrian Police Orchestra with the khaki color of the dusty, Israeli desert outpost. Subtle humor continues throughout the film, keeping things light while approaching difficult issues.

Adding more fodder to the theme of cultural confusion is Kolirin’s use of multiple languages. Although English subtitles are used throughout the film, the audience is constantly reminded of how difficult it can be to communicate across different cultures. An interesting side note: All eight Egyptian musicians are played by Palestinian actors, apparently because Kolirin had a difficult time securing actors from Egypt.