“

So why is Brody so smitten? The uncharitable view holds that, in his unwavering support for Swanberg, Bujalski, les frères Safdie, et al., he has the air of an elderly uncle trying to appear groovy with the kids, whose music he tries to love despite his better judgment. But I think it goes deeper than that. I believe it’s sincere. Like many of the better American critics, Brody is an auteurist at heart, and is therefore eager to find and consecrate homegrown examples, in order to sustain this worldview.



The problem is, as he well knows, the entire mechanism of US filmmaking, in all but its most handmade manifestations, is inimical to auteurism; rather, it emphasizes the efficiency and superiority of the industrial process. In so hostile a climate, one must take one’s heroes where one can. Hence the rabid over-praising – and not only by Brody, I hasten to add – of every Bright Young Thing that comes alone [sic]. All of whom, amusingly enough, are compared to European models, from Lance Hammer (“an American Dardenne!” we were assured) to Sofia Coppola (“Somewhere” was just like Antonioni, doncha know?). And of course, Swanberg himself, whom Brody regularly likens – not entirely without justification – to Philippe Garrel. But it’s telling, I think, that no one ever compares these guys to, say, an Anthony Mann, or a Frank Tashlin, or indeed any other product of the US studio system, since that would negate the argument being advanced.



(This, incidentally, is why the career trajectory of someone like David Gordon Green, from the exquisite lyricism of “George Washington” to the baked stupor of “Pineapple Express,” is such a bitter pill for his early admirers to swallow, representing as it does not only one very gifted filmmaker’s flight from the salons to the marketplace, but an entire narrative of U.S. indie filmmaking in the last decade.)

”
— Shane Danielsen on IndieWire, using the work of American filmmaker Joe Swanberg debuting at the Berlinale to make a provocative point about why we need to believe that American film directors are the next whatever. Reblogged for the David Gordon Green reference.

Women in film



I have been enjoying This Recording’s conversation on sexism and gender roles, in movies, tv, and in life this week. It’s good to talk about these things, even if they make you uncomfortable or piss you off - in fact, that’s when you know it’s working. And these ideas relate to anything when you’re fighting the status quo as an “other.”

It’s funny, to me, how old these conversations seem. How the VIDA list of female contributors to magazines and media was non-existent, and it wasn’t a surprise. They’re statistics showing you what you’re up against, in what you’re trying to pursue. And they’re statistics that show you that you’re not alone - in realizing that you’re up against a lot - and what you’re doing may have some purpose, because maybe you can affect those statistics. I remember being a kid and learning about feminism and that “women were equal now,” and feeling terribly cheated when I got in the workplace and dealt with things that were patently sexist and condescending.

Anyways, since I have somewhat of an expertise in film (stupid brain!) I can share some observations I’ve made regarding female film directors. (Warning: it’s long.)

1) The discussion of female film directors, when you’re at some media thing and talking about “women in film,” is, often, not a conversation that people want to engage in, or want to spend the time talking about, particularly when they’re trying to sell their film. And that’s completely fair and understandable. Conversations about representation in your field can be tiring when you’re just trying to represent in your field. It’s a meta-thing best suited to media people who should be talking about it.

The only women who add to the women in film conversation have tended, you notice, to be legends. Dame Helen Mirren talking about roles, for example. Whereas a Kathryn Bigelow, to me, seems to want to push the conversation along by doing kickass work, post-Hurt Locker. (Despite the fact that - oh, look, first woman to win an Oscar for directing - she’s in the history books now.) And in order for her to get back into the system and back into a position of power, notice, she had to go outside the system and rock it. The Hurt Locker was a comeback film, you know. She hadn’t done something in 7 yrs and was in “director jail” thanks to some big budget flops, I believe.

2) To me, it doesn’t seem like the problem is women making films. Anyone can make a film, and get it distributed in some form or fashion, and make it happen. You can do that, once. The problem, to me, is that the American studio system (indies and majors) doesn’t seem to be hospitable to women making careers in film. I don’t understand why a Nicole Holofcener isn’t getting to make films at the rate of a… Wes Anderson, let’s say. (And he’s a slooooow boy genius. And these two are both post-Woody Allen directors of “rich” people ennui, so there’s that.) You know that part of it is - Holofcener has done TV (including Gilmore Girls episodes) between films, Anderson has not - and part of it is… what, exactly? Is a Wes Anderson movie more of a guaranteed money maker than Nicole Holofcener, because it has Bill Murray in it and not Catherine Keener? I believe they’re both equally niche, in their way.

3) Do you need female directors working in the studio system even if it’s corrosive to the soul? Is a Catherine Hardwick a director to root for?

4) Funding for female-directed films is interesting to observe. In Europe, a Susanna Bier or Catherine Brelliat can make films like an auteur. And I think part of that is due to European government support of films.

5) I have found that there are far more female directors in the documentary world than the world of feature films. (Every year, look at the Oscars. Where do you see the females? In documentary.) The reasons for this, to me, seem to be twofold: first, when you’re making a documentary, it’s a passion project. A story you have to follow to its end point. It’s an exercise in empathy and observation. It makes sense that women can excel in these sort of situations. Secondly: when you’re making a documentary, you are, more often than not, getting grants. Is that kind of fundraising easier for women? And yet, you know - give me the name of three documentarians. I guarantee it they’ll be men, and maybe Michael Moore.

I do think that the new guard of women sneaking into films is pretty exciting, and I’m curious to see where they go and whether they sustain careers. (Anyone else think Natalie Portman’s going to be a Drew Barrymore when it comes to producing and getting films made?) I’m just really looking forward to when the system is dismantled completely, so new voices can come in and build their own structure. Maybe it could happen in my lifetime. That would be a gift.

(Yes, this post is full of generalizations, rooted in truth. I would love to write something more in-depth and researched on this in the future.)

“But the Bookmill is most magical in the heart of winter. If snowflakes aren’t tumbling into the half-frozen rapids, pale sunlight filters through the bare trees and old windows onto the mill’s charactered wood surfaces. The mill has many corners — grab a hot chocolate and find one for yourself. Read, chat or simply listen to the voices in the cafe, the river running under the ice outside and the pages turning all around you.”
— The LA Times likes the Bookmill, too. (Also, note the use of the word “magical.” Truth.) Mark Vanhoenacker, be my friend!