The Screengrab : christopher guest

Trailer Review: Away We Go

Paul Clark — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 16:00:00 GMT

Sam Mendes returns with another drama about married life, and topic he’s approached before, first through the glossy snark of American Beauty, then with the darkly existential Revolutionary Road. Here he looks like he’s taking the quirky route, approaching it from the point of view of a not-quite mainstream couple (John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph) as they prepare for the birth of their first child. But while Away We Go marks the first cinematic venture by acclaimed author Dave Eggers, I’m not sure his style is particularly compatible with the big screen. Eggers has made off-kilter observational comedy his stock in trade, but it’s one thing to read it on the page and another to hear it from the mouths of actors. Based on the evidence here, the results are mixed, with Allison Janney’s line-readings in the trailer sounding suffering from an overabundance of actorly “spin.” That said, a supporting cast like this one is hard to ignore, especially the casting of Jeff Daniels and Catherine O’Hara as the parents of either Krasinski or Rudolph (hard to tell from the trailer). If nothing else, Away We Go ought to give me my O’Hara fix until the next time Christopher Guest comes a-calling.

Screengrab's Favorite Movies About Music: Fiction Edition (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 19 Mar 2009 20:00:00 GMT

Last week, as part of our ongoing coverage of the South-By-Southwest Film, Music & Interactive Festival, we decided to get our collective groove on with a list of our favorite movies about real-live musicians.

But who says musicians have to be real to be memorable? Sure, Mitch & Mickey may be fictional characters portrayed by Eugene Levy and Catherine O’Hara in Christopher Guest’s faux-folkumentary, A Mighty Wind...yet despite the fact the duo never really existed, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when my lovely Polish bride and I danced at our wedding reception to that non-existent classic hit of sweet, sweet romance, “A Kiss At The End Of The Rainbow." And, sure, the real Sid Vicious was nice and all...but I have equally fond memories of Gary Oldman’s fictional version in Alex Cox’s Sid & Nancy.

To blur the lines of fiction and reality even further, this week’s list also includes movies about make-believe people affected by real musicians and real musicians transforming themselves into make-believe people as your pals at the Screengrab salute OUR FAVORITE MOVIES ABOUT MUSIC: FICTION EDITION!

THIS IS SPINAL TAP (1984)

Yes, we all know it's hilarious. But This Is Spinal Tap is a classic for more reasons than simple hilarity. This was one of the first major films to be classified a "mockumentary", and in order for the style to work at all, director Rob Reiner and stars Christopher Guest, Michael McKean, and Harry Shearer had to get all the details down cold. This meant concocting an elaborate backstory involving multiple group names, format changes, and a parade of dozens of drummers who met their respective ends under bizarre circumstances. But beyond the more obvious references, Spinal Tap had to walk, talk, and play like a real aging rock band, from the principles writing and performing their own songs before actual crowds to the shorthand that the band members have with each other, as when Nigel (Guest) calls out "GSM" during rehearsal to signal that he wants to practice the song "Gimme Some Money." The gambit worked -- numerous moviegoers at the time were convinced that Spinal Tap was a real touring act, and the movie quickly became a favorite of legitimate rock acts, who identified with such scenes as the group getting lost on their way to the stage. Soon enough, life imitated farce, and Guest, McKean, and Shearer began touring as Spinal Tap, even releasing a second album in 1992 entitled Break Like the Wind. Even today, Spinal Tap endures, both in its cinematic form and its real-life incarnation, with a tour coming later this spring.

24 HOUR PARTY PEOPLE (2002)

Steve Coogan has a motor-mouthed smart-guy comedian's dream role as Tony Wilson, TV reporter, pop theorist, and the man behind Factory Records, which brought the sound of Manchester to a postpunk world. Directed by Michael Winterbottom, the movie, which also provides plum roles for Shirley Henderson (as Wilson's first wife), Paddy Considine (as his sidekick Rob Gretton), Andy Serkis (as the deranged genius producer Martin Hannett), and Sean Hayes (as Ian Curtis), covers the first public performance by the Sex Pistols, the rise and end of Joy Division, the band's resurrection as New Order, the slaphappy career of the Happy Mondays and the coming of rave culture, and Factory's death throes, with Coogan's Wilson walking through it explaining himself and the culture he's part of, always talking a mile a minute. Coming from the cerebral Winterbottom, the movie itself could be called a sustained work of rock criticism, except that rock crit hasn't been this funny since Lester Bangs swigged his last bottle of Romilar.

HEDWIG AND THE ANGRY INCH (2001)

John Cameron Mitchell energetically transposed his hit off-Broadway show to celluloid with 2001’s Hedwig and the Angry Inch, the story of a transsexual punk rock goddess named Hedwig (Mitchell) who narrates her life story while travelling across the country playing second-rate venues, her shot at stardom stymied by a former lover and disciple (Michael Pitt) who became a music sensation by stealing her songs. Hedwig’s is a lunatic odyssey which begins in East Berlin where, as a young boy, she undergoes a sex change operation in order to marry her U.S. army lover and escape the Iron Curtain, and which is partially conveyed via a bevy of musical numbers and animated sequences that are striking in both their ingenuity and power. Bolstered by rollicking, blistering tunes that are as well suited for arenas as they are for the stage and screen, Mitchell’s film is rowdy, bombastic, idiosyncratic and heartfelt, a combination to which only a select few movie musicals can legitimately lay claim.

THE DOORS (1991)

A close friend once derided The Doors’ music as “bad poetry with keyboards,” and while I’m generally inclined to concur with his assessment, there’s nonetheless something transfixing about Oliver Stone’s 1991 biopic, which has the type of on-the-edge, trippy-druggy dynamism that typified the director’s creatively fertile early-‘90s period. Stone’s anything-goes aesthetic showmanship is an ideal approach for a portrait of the L.A. band and, in particular, lead singer Jim Morrison, whose larger-than-life persona – drunken fool, callous bastard, earnest poet, sex god – naturally appealed to a filmmaker fascinated with mythologizing socio-political icons. The Doors oozes reverence without alienating those who might think the film’s subjects and their classic-rock canon fall somewhat short of greatness, due in part to uniformly superb performances led by Val Kilmer’s pitch-perfect embodiment of the lizard king, but mostly thanks to Stone’s lack of inhibition, his madman stylistic excesses (and yes, I’m including the Indian in the desert), supremely well-attuned to the careening rollercoaster energy of The Doors.

VELVET GOLDMINE (1998) and I'M NOT THERE (2007)

With these two films, Todd Haynes has produced the finest examples of fictional rock movies that I can imagine. Both have taken the lives of real rock musicians -- Bowie & Iggy in the former, Dylan in the latter -- and played up the mythic qualities to create a transcendent hyper-reality. No, Bowie and Iggy and Dylan didn't really live like this. But speaking from the point of view of poetry and mythology and literature, these are more true than mere reality can manage. That's what myths and stories are about: heightening everyday reality into a more universal truth. Most people's lives aren't up to the examples set by Ulysses or Hercules or even Ishmael or Natty Bumppo. But I think few would deny that there's a universal recognition of the truth in the lives of these wandering heroes. Celebrities sometimes play the role of real-life analog to idealized heroes. That's why so many urban myths leap up about the lives of celebrities; people need to believe in the extraordinariness of others. Rock musicians in particular often play the debauched Dionysian role of the glorious artistic mess, the pleasure-seeker who indulges in sex and drugs to feed his or her creative output. With these movies, Haynes pushes past the mere facts to feed the stories, and the results are fascinating, part narrative and part critique. In Velvet Goldmine, Christian Bale plays a journalist in an Orwellian Britain of the late '80s. A series of events causes him to investigate -- and recall -- the heyday of glam rock and its figurehead Brian Slade, who is basically the Platonic ideal of David Bowie (with elements of Brian Eno thrown in for good measure) as played by Jonathan Rhys Meyer. Slade's closest associate is Curt Wild (Ewan McGregor), who is mostly Iggy with a little Lou Reed thrown in. The two are lovers, and Slade gleefully expresses his fluid sense of sexuality. So there's three layers right there: Orwellian future, permissive past, rockers as trangressors. But there's more. Haynes dares to suggest that the bisexual/creative impulse was a gift from aliens (or angels) to Oscar Wilde in the Victorian era, and has passed down through the ages to the instigators of glam. That's, well, audacious as all hell. Haynes specifically compares Slade to both Wilde and his horrendous creation Dorian Gray. So, that's at least two more layers, maybe more. So, yes: gay theory, rock theory, lit theory, treatises on repression and freedom combined with the cults of youth and beauty. There's a lot going on in this movie. And it rocks like hell.

In I'm Not There, Haynes similarly adopts all of the myths about Bob Dylan into a narrative that's both fractured and more meaningful than a straightforward film could convey. There are six Dylans in this film, which is fewer Dylans than real life has given us. But these six Dylans represent the greatest periods of his life. Marcus Carl Franklin, an 11-year-old African-American boy, represents the youngest Dylan myth, the farmboy who rides the rails calling himself Woody Guthrie, learning America's traditional folk and blues music along the way. Ben Whishaw plays the interior Dylan, the playful interviewee who calls himself Arthur Rimbaud and comments cryptically on the rest of Dylan's life. Christian Bale plays the young and sincere New York folksinger Dylan, the socially active songwriter who calls himself Jack Rollins and travels to the South to sing to Civil Rights workers in a field. Rollins will later morph into Pastor John, the born-again Christian Dylan of the late '70s and early '80s. Heath Ledger plays the actor Dylan, the one who is horrible to his beautiful wife and torn in two by their divorce. His name is Robbie Clark and his wife, played by Charlotte Gainsbourg, is Claire, and their story evokes the mid-'70s Dylan of Renaldo and Clara and Blood On The Tracks. Cate Blanchett plays Jude Quinn, the rock star Dylan of the mid-'60s and Don't Look Back. Quinn is explicitly shown as dead from a motorcycle accident at the beginning of the movie, which references Dylan's 1966 motorcycle accident which effectively killed off his Don't Look Back-era persona. Richard Gere plays Billy the Kid, who is the Dylan of The Basement Tapes, John Wesley Harding, and Sam Peckinpah's Pat Garrett And Billy The Kid. Gere's Billy lives in Riddle County, where the carnivalesque/Old West/Old Testament world of the Basement Tapes springs to life. So, that's the shallowest overview I could provide, and it more or less ate up all my space. Layers and layers in these films. Watch 'em again. And again.

Click Here For Part Two, Three, Four & Five

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Paul Clark, Phil Nugent, Nick Schager, Hayden Childs

Trailer Review: Night at the Museum 2: Battle for the Smithsonian

Paul Clark — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 17:00:00 GMT

Despite some middling reviews (or perhaps because of them) I found the original Night at the Museum a fairly nice-surprise. Admittedly, the film was a fairly innocuous effects-driven blockbuster, but its gee-whiz vibe was a refreshing change from a lot of family fare that clogs up the multiplexes. That said, I gotta say that the sequel looks like more of the same- more CGI mayhem, more exhibits behaving badly, and more recognizable comic faces than the last installment (in addition to the returning cast members, this one includes such ringers as Jonah Hill, Bill Hader, Hank Azaria, Eugene Levy, Craig Robinson, and best of all, Christopher Guest). Still, while I’m not especially excited for this one, I expect I’ll enjoy it well enough, not least because I’m guessing Amy Adams will make a better Amelia Earhart than Hilary Swank, who’s all set to grub for a third undeserved Oscar for her upcoming biopic.

Paul Benedict, 1938-2008

Phil Nugent — Fri, 05 Dec 2008 15:00:00 GMT

Paul Benjamin, who died this week at the age of 70, was a character actor in the all but lost tradition of classic Hollywood comedies, the missing link between the likes of Mischa Auer and Franklin Pangborn and the counterculture improv theater of the 1950s and '60s. With his lanky frame and elongated jaw--the result of a childhood illness--he seemed to have been built for a career in the Sunday Funnies, and when he spoke, he had a special gift for seeming both professorial and slightly insane. In one of his earliest film roles, in Milos Forman's Taking Off (1971), he counseled a meeting of middle-class parents trying to figure out how to better understand their teenage kids on how to smoke marijuana. He followed that up by playing sidekick to Alan Arkin in the little seen Deadhead Miles (1972), which was written by Terrence Malick; gave Christianity a bad name as a frontier clergyman with the sniffles in Jeremiah Johnson (1972); lectured partygoers on the tribal mating rituals in Up the Sandbox (1972); helped Bruce Dern pass for normal as one of the California rotary club types in Smile (1975); helped David Warner pass for almost sort of normal as his Teutonic butler in The Man with Two Brains (1983); and tried to school Matthew Broderick in the art of film as the immortal Professor Arthur Fleeber in The Freshman (1980). He was also a recurring figure in the Christopher Guest mockumentary industry, with small roles in This Is Spinal Tap, Waiting for Guffman, and A Mighty Wind (2003). For all that, he was probably best known to most people as the giddily unsocialized Mr. Bentley on The Jeffersons, a job that he held down for ten years from 1975 to 1985, and one that left most of the country stubbornly convinced that Benedict, who was born in Silver City, New Mexico, was English. He also had a recurring role as the Number Painter on Sesame Street.

A theater veteran, Benedict also directed the original off-Broadway production of Terrence McNally's Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune, starring Kathy Bates and Kenneth Welsh, in 1987, and co-starred with Al Pacino in a 1996 Circle in the Square production of the Eugene O'Neill two-hander Hughie. Last year, Benedict, who made his home at Martha's Vineyard, appeared in the American Repertory Theatre production of Harold Pinter's No Man's Land in Cambridge. His last film appearance was in the 2004 Pierce Brosnan movie After the Sunset.

The Top 20 Movies About Movies (Part One)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 20:00:00 GMT

According to conventional Hollywood wisdom (which, of course, is never wrong), movies about the moviemaking process are bad box office bets, since the subject is far too esoteric for mainstream audiences, too “inside” for Joe Multiplex. Never mind that Americans are obsessed with pop culture, with every other person in the nation either writing a screenplay, uploading their own mini-masterpieces to YouTube and/or tracking box office returns, buzzworthy coming attractions and day-to-day movie star minutiae in every form of media from Entertainment Tonight and our own humble website to CNN and Cigar Aficionado magazine. And never mind the fact that movies about movies are just as likely to succeed (Get Shorty, The Blair Witch Project...yes, The Blair Witch Project! They were making a movie, remember?) or fail (that awful Alec Baldwin/John Cusack movie I rented a few months ago about a fake movie financed by the FBI...ugh) as any other genre.

Naturally, as film geeks, we here at The Screengrab have always had a special place in our black little hearts for stories about the high-powered moguls and desperate hustlers drawn like doomed moths to the lights, cameras and especially action of the Dream Factory (in all its forms).

Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll be rushing out to see Ben Stiller’s latest comedy (about a group of spoiled actors who start off shooting a war film and wind up in a real shooting war), but the release of Tropic Thunder does give us a chance to reflect on past favorites from our favorite post-modern genre: movies about movies!

AMERICAN MOVIE (1999)

As Spinal Tap is to rock and roll, so American Movie is to the world of low-budget independent filmmaking. Detailing working class Wisconsinite Mark Borchardt's failed attempts to launch production of his dream project Northwestern and subsequent determination to complete the 35-minute horror film Coven, Movie is both hilarious and thoroughly moving. The pitfalls of no-budget filmmaking provide some of the most uproarious moments, such as a Coven scene in which Borchardt's character shoves his support group sponsor's head through a non-breakaway cabinet door, but the film's surprising emotional depth derives from Borchardt's relationships with his family and friends, including gentle burnout Mike Schank and the increasingly decrepit and fatalistic Uncle Bill. Schank's maniacal screeching during a sound effects dubbing session and Uncle Bill's repeated attempts to nail his single line of dialogue leave some doubt as to whether Borchardt will be able to pull off his project, but the finished product reveals flashes of wit and an eye for the sort of harsh, gloomy compositions he professes to admire (as well as some admittedly Ed Wood-level writing and acting). Last time we checked, Borchardt was still hoping to make Northwestern, but even if he never pulls it off, the essence of that dream project informs this documentary, investing it with an indomitable spirit and passion for life.

STATE AND MAIN (2000)

When David Mamet set his poison pen to a Hollywood satire, the result was far from the scathing warts-and-all expose one might expect from the author of Glengarry Glenn Ross. Instead, State and Main is a frothy, good-natured screwball comedy pitting the cast and crew of what appears to be an earnest period melodrama, The Old Mill, against the residents of their filming location, the quintessentially picturesque New England town of Waterford, Vermont. William H. Macy is the exasperated director, Alec Baldwin is the leading man with a weakness for underage girls, and Philip Seymour Hoffman is the screenwriter forced to rewrite his script when it turns out Waterford doesn't have an old mill after all. The usual course of events would have the simple but good-hearted natives teaching the soulless Hollywood invaders a lesson or two about small town values, but that's not what Mamet is up to here. He knows media-saturated America has reached the point where everyone's a show biz insider; thus a scraggly pair of diner denizens chew over Variety's weekend box office figures while the cook ponders the trajectory of Warner Bros. stock since 1985. Locals and La-La-landers alike get their fair share of jabs, but the tone is generally more affectionate than condescending or malicious.

THE STUNT MAN (1980)

Richard Rush's kinetic action comedy -- in which a possibly crazy Vietnam vet (Steve Railsback) on the run from the law takes refuge among the crew on a location film shoot and discovers that, compared to a bunch of Hollywood professionals, he doesn't know from craziness -- features maybe the greatest depiction of a big-time movie director ever caught on film: Peter O'Toole as Eli Cross, a megalomaniac and a madman but not a bad guy. Eli, who's trying to keep the people working under him simultaneously entertained and cowed while doing whatever he can think of to inject some purifying "madness" into the stock World War I movie he's shooting, makes his entrance in a helicopter and is often perched seated on a crane, so that he can dip into the frame from on high; "If God could do the tricks we can do," he cackles, "He'd be a happy man!" As Rush's reward for having made one of the best movies about moviemaking, he got to watch as his picture became semi-legendary for the efforts of the studio to declare it unreleasable despite fawning reviews and solid business when they booked it into a West Coast theater for a weekend just to prove that it would bomb.

THE BIG PICTURE (1989)

This was the first feature film directed by Christopher Guest, but it's not a "mockumentary"; it's a scripted comedy starring Kevin Bacon as an eager, idealistic young director whose award-winning short film gets him snatched up by a big studio, which promises him carte blanche to make his first real movie. He goes straight into the shredder head first. Far superior to Guest's more recent For Your Consideration, it features a stellar rogue's gallery of Hollywood phonies, including J. T. Walsh and Tracy Brooks Swope as revolving-door studio heads, Teri Hatcher as a starlet looking for the right shark to hook onto, Jennifer Jason Leigh as a confused young would-be artist, and most amazing of all, Martin Short as a scumbag agent. With his frizzy 'do and lying eyes, he looks like a Hobbit who found the One Ring and pawned it for a ticket to L.A.

Click Here for Part Two, Part Three, Part Four & Part Five

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Scott Von Doviak, Phil Nugent

OST: "This is Spinal Tap"

Leonard Pierce — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 21:00:00 GMT

Song parodies are tricky business. Done well, they're delightful, working on their own terms musically, delivering on the joke, and rewarding the listener for spotting the various musical and comedic references. Done poorly, they're about the lowest form of music there is. One of the reasons that the ouevre of Christopher Guest, Michael McKean and Harry Shearer works so well (and here we include This is Spinal Tap, which, although directed by Rob Reiner, was written by the three performers in much the same way that the later, Guest-directed films like Best in Show and A Mighty Wind would be) is that they have some degree of genuine affection for the medium they're skewering. If Guest and company simply despised heavy metal, their parody would fall flat -- their unfamiliarity with or contempt for the music would result in unconvincing musical numbers, and their lack of feeling for the characters and the milieu would come across as patronizing rather than funny. It's an undying tribute to how successful their parody truly was -- and how deeply it comes across as both affectionate and mocking -- that amongst actual heavy metal musicians, This is Spinal Tap is treated with the kind of reverence normally saved for people who play it completely straight. The movie gets it just right, and real metal musicians know it.

One shouldn't minimize Reiner's contribution to the film -- he's a much more technically sure-handed director than Guest, and he did provide some of the funnier lyrics to the fictional group's songs -- but it's never hard to figure out, from the delightfully offhand, improvised quality of much of the dialogue to the fact that Guest, McKean and Shearer not only wrote all the music, but performed it themselves without the aid of the usual ringers, who's responsible for Spinal Tap's success. In a bizarre testament to the power of successful comedy, the soundtrack to This is Spinal Tap -- which, after all, is a movie about a comically incompetent heavy metal band -- became a huge success. Many of those who bought the soundtrack album no doubt did so as a goof, merely to remember the mocking songs of this groundbreakingly awful British hard rock outfit with the constantly rotating drummers. But many more bought it because, intended as a joke or no, these were damn good songs, written by damn good performers, who may have meant them to be insulting, but didn't do so from a position of ignorance. How good were they? So good that punk legend Mark E. Smith of the Fall lifted the riff from "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight" in its entirety for his own "Athlete Cured". So good that, when you take into account official releases and fan-created bootlegs, the fictional Spinal Tap has more records available than a lot of really good heavy metal bands that actually exist. So good that the aforementioned "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight" is something of a heavy metal classic despite its jokey genesis, and even appears in the video game Guitar Hero II alongside such genuinely legendary songs as "Freebird", "War Pigs" and "Billion Dollar Babies". And so good that the soundtrack itself, almost unique among movies in the musical spoof genre, is strong enough to stand on its own detached from the movie: if you have any affinity at all for the classic heavy metal sound, these are songs you're going to sing along to on your iPod even if you know, deep in your hard-rockin' heart, that they're really jokes at your expense.

BEST TRACKS: Aside from the indispensible "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight", with its merciless bassline and barely legal teen-queen lyrics, there's at least half a dozen stone classics on this soundtrack, even if they contain the seeds of their own destruction: "Big Bottom", the classic ode to fat fannies, has parazlyzingly funny lyrics to go along with its monster hook; "Hell Hole" is a tremendously catchy screamer with New Wave of British Heavy Metal influences so strong you can easily see Rob Halford belting it out instead of McKean's David St. Hubbins; and the Motorheady "Heavy Duty" is crushingly appropriate from a band that sometimes takes to the stage with three bass players. And if for some reason you don't like metal -- like, say, you don't enjoy things that are fun -- there's also the ludicrous hippie anthem "(Listen to the) Flower People" and the dead-on early Beatles parody, "Gimme Some Money". Go, Nigel, go!

Screengrab (Maybe) Confirms a Rumor About Gael Garcia Bernal, Reports Actual Facts About Quentin Tarantino & Christopher Guest

Andrew Osborne — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 17:00:00 GMT

This past weekend, at the 10th Annual Provincetown International Film Festival’s Awards Ceremony, Jane Lynch and Gael Garcia Bernal received awards for career achievement in acting and Quentin Tarantino was honored with the festival’s 2008 Filmmaker on the Edge Award. At a presentation in the non-air-conditioned auditorium of Provincetown High School (attendees received complimentary church lady hand fans), the celebrity guests received trophies in the shape of P-Town’s famous, phallic Pilgrim Monument Tower and spoke about their respective careers in a series of casual sit-down interviews and audience Q&As, during which Lynch revealed the status of the next Christopher Guest movie, Bernal got emotional for reasons that were suspected but not confirmed and Quentin Tarantino broke some news about his long-awaited (and much delayed) Dirty Dozen homage, Inglorious Bastards or Once Upon a Time in Nazi-Occupied France.

1. Just before receiving the Faith Hubley Memorial Award (named for the Academy Award winning animator who passed away in 2001), Jane Lynch was asked if she had any news about the next Christopher Guest improv all-starts project. The news was not good. According to Lynch, “It’s getting to be about the time we’d start talking about the next one,” but when she spoke with Guest recently, the actor/filmmaker/fake rock star revealed he has no current plans to create another ensemble comedy in the vein of Waiting for Guffman, Best In Show, A Mighty Wind or the 2006 disappointment, For Your Consideration. On the plus side, he may adapt Guffman as a Broadway show (unless he was just pulling Lynch’s leg with some of that trademark deadpan humor of his).

2. Gael Garcia Bernal is an attractive little bastard. That part isn’t news, of course, but it’s worth mentioning: in person, he’s the sweetest, tiniest Mexican you’ve ever seen, with lips and eyes like Julia Roberts and a sultry accent capable of seducing straights, gays and maybe even the occasional lesbian. While accepting his P-Town Festival award for Excellence in Acting, Bernal got surprisingly choked up...surprising, that is, until he mentioned something about how the honor made him think about all the exciting things in his future and how “one person in the room knows what I mean.” Then he went back to his seat and embraced a beautiful lady who looked an awful lot like Bernal’s current squeeze, actress Dolores Fonzi, who, according to internet speculation (and Screengrab’s deductive reasoning), is almost certainly preggers. Congrats, Gael!

3. And then there was Quentin. Let me start by saying QT often comes across (especially in Jane Hamsher’s Hollywood tell-all Killer Instinct) as a pompous, annoying ass, and after all the pop-culture-spouting protagonists and stylized violence spawned in the wake of Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction (and after the underwhelming, unintentional self-parody of Death Proof), it’s easy to take the writer/director (and part-time actor) for granted. But seeing him in the flesh reminded me of an R.E.M. performance I witnessed at the all-day outdoor Austin City Limits music festival a few years ago. I haven’t bought a new R.E.M. album in years, it’s easy to mock Michael Stipe and I’d gotten out of the habit of thinking of the R.E.M.s as one of my favorite bands...that is, until they kicked my ass with a blow-your-face-off set of, like, a thousand songs I suddenly remembered I fucking loved. Same with Quentin: the man has given me far, far more enjoyment than grief over the years, and he’s a riot live...especially when being interviewed by fellow film geek raconteur John Waters, as he was on Saturday in P-Town. As it turns out, Tarantino and Waters are buddies and I could have watched their odd couple bantering for hours. (Seriously, IFC: get these two a weekly show!) After chatting amiably about topics ranging from the best gifts QT ever received from his fans (short answer: pussy, but the Pez dispensers shaped like Jules and Vincent Vega from Pulp Fiction were nice, too) to the directors’ shared love of torture porn as one of the few true remaining forms of exploitation cinema, Tarantino revealed that 24 hours previously, he’d really, actually, finally finished the screenplay for Inglorious Bastards and was hoping to complete the film in time for Cannes 2009...so stay tuned!

Related stories: Chevolution, Provincetown Film Festival Review: The Wackness

Truth or Dare with Ricky Gervais

Scott Von Doviak — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 18:00:00 GMT

We’ve seen writer-directors and even writer-director-actors before, but it may be time to add a new hyphenate to the filmmaking glossary: writer-director-actor-blogger. Ricky Gervais is sharing the writing and directing duties on his debut feature film This Side of the Truth, and his co-stars include Tina Fey, Christopher Guest, Jeffrey Tambor, Rob Lowe and Jennifer Garner. But he’s handling the blogging himself at his own website, rickygervais.com.

Plotwise, the movie sounds rather high concept in comparison to Gervais’s brilliantly squirmy television work in The Office and Extras. “It's a contemporary world rather like our own, but in which the human race has never evolved the ability to lie,” blogs Gervais. “I play a loser who discovers one day that he, and only he has the ability to lie. In a world where no one even understands the concept of lying, everyone totally believes, without question anything I tell them. I can say anything at all and they accept this as the gospel truth. I can get anything I want. Or can I?”

Gervais has already posted a number of pre-production videos, including his close inspection of the detailed testicle work on a scale model boar, and he offers a preview of a future project: “In the film I'm writing with Steve Merchant I'm playing a man with a bad back who sits in an arm chair all day. If I can hide a toilet in the armchair I will have created the perfect acting job for myself.”

A Mighty Wind Blows Through Berklee

Peter Smith — Tue, 11 Dec 2007 17:00:00 GMT

Berklee nabbed themselves one of the awesomest honorary alumni ever this past Friday when they bestowed the Honorary Degree of Doctor of Music upon mockumentarist Christopher Guest. This was no dusty academic affair either, as Guest teamed with some twenty-five other musicians to bust out the Spinal Tap hits to an audience of 1200 at the Berklee Performance Center. Thinking of Chris Guest usually makes you laugh, but there's no denying the man's deep understanding of twentieth-century music. Time to re-watch Spinal Tap and pretend I was in Boston last week. — John Constantine

The Ten Best Deleted Scenes of All Time, Part 2

Peter Smith — Fri, 16 Nov 2007 18:00:00 GMT

THE CHIP REMOVAL SCENE, TERMINATOR 2

The premise of Terminator 2 is that Arnold Schwarzenegger's character, a cyborg who spent the whole first film trying to assassinate future revolutionary Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton), has now been reprogrammed to protect her family. In other words, he's the same soulless killing machine, but on a humane mission instead of a lethal one. So how does he acquire emotions, attachments and embarrassing slang words over the course of the film? That mystery is explained in this deleted scene, in which Sarah removes an inhibitor chip from the Terminator's head. (Fun fact: given the limits of special effects in 1991, the mirror effect was achieved by having Linda Hamilton perform surgery on a dummy head, while Hamilton's twin sister — seriously — stood on the other side of the mirror with actual Arnold.) The scene also includes a confrontation between Connor and her son which fundamentally changes the dynamic of their relationship, allowing him to take over as leader. (In the director's commentary, Cameron says he "agonized" over cutting this scene.)

"THIS BULGING RIVER", WAITING FOR GUFFMAN

We'd kill to spend a day sifting through Christopher Guest's cutting room floor. Guest films hours and hours of documentary-style footage for his improvised comedies, only a fraction of which end up in the final film. The DVD versions of This is Spinal Tap (which he co-wrote but didn't direct), Best in Show and A Mighty Wind are loaded with hilarious (and sometimes shockingly dark) deleted scenes. But our favorite is this giddy extended climax from Waiting for Guffman. Guffman follows a small-town community theater troupe as they cast, rehearse and perform an original musical, all the while increasingly convinced that they're heading to Broadway. This deleted musical number is an ingenious musical theater parody — with production values that are comparable to actual Broadway.

THE HOTEL CONFESSION SCENE, SUPERMAN II

Director Richard Donner had filmed more than half of Superman II when the producers removed him from the project, replacing him with Richard Lester. The theatrical version of the film is a hybrid of Lester and Donner scenes, and for years after its release, rumors swirled that a better film — the Donner cut — was buried in the Warner Brothers vaults. When the Donner cut finally came to DVD in 2006, it was a mixed blessing: on one hand, it's very clearly an unfinished film. On the other hand, it contains some marked improvements over the theatrical release. This scene, in which Lois cleverly forces Clark to reveal his identity as Superman, is one of those improvements. It packs far more of a dramatic wallop than the "oops-i-dropped-my-glasses-in-the-fire" reveal from the Lester version. Perhaps the ultimate deleted scene, this one was never actually filmed; it was edited together from Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder's separate screen tests.

DAVID DUNN AND THE PRIEST, UNBREAKABLE

Unbreakable, M. Night Shyamalan's hushed, atmospheric follow-up to The Sixth Sense, tells the story of David Dunn (Bruce Willis), a stressed-out family man who survives a horrific train crash. When David realizes that he was the only survivor — and no one can offer him an adequate explanation — he begins to explore the possibility that he may be something other than an ordinary human being. It's a clever premise, and Unbreakable is an underrated film, but there are some serious gaps in logic — i.e., how has David passed his fortieth birthday without ever realizing he's invulnerable? This deleted scene offers some much-needed insight. It also toys nicely with the stock character of the cinematic priest; we expect him to talk about fate and God's plan, which he does, but not in the way you're thinking.

THE PUMPKIN CARVING SCENE, DONNIE DARKO

The Donnie Darko DVD contains miles of deleted footage, much of which made it into Donnie Darko: The Director's Cut — and most of which, frankly, makes the film overly complicated and heavy-handed. The original theatrical release has a pervasive sense of mystery, and the film's unanswered questions are part of its appeal. That said, every new scene between Donnie and his family deepens the impact of the film's time-twisting climax. This one is our favorite. It's an ordinary moment between Donnie (Jake Gyllenhaal) and his sister Elizabeth (real-life sibling Maggie Gyllenhaal), that reveals the affection in their relationship yet hints of ominous things to come.

— Gwynne Watkins