Tag: Indie Films

Joss Whedon’s Indie Film ‘In Your Eyes’ Disappoints

Though beautifully shot with surprising and genuine performances, Joss Whedon’s ‘In Your Eyes’ disappoints with its lazy storytelling and ultimately trite plotline.

In Your Eyes Poster

Written by Amanda Rodriguez.

As a dedicated fan of much of writer/director Joss Whedon‘s work (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Cabin in the Woods, and Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog to name a few), I looked forward to watching Whedon’s latest film: Vimeo’s video on demand indie flick In Your Eyes. The film is a supernatural love story, featuring a man (Dylan) and woman (Becky) who live on opposite sides of the country and discover they’ve been psychically linked since adolescence when Becky had a sledding accident.

Sledding
Young Becky steels herself to face a fearful, snowy descent on her sled

 

In Your Eyes is beautifully shot with rich colors that starkly contrast Dylan’s arid New Mexico home with Becky’s snowy New Hampshire location. Not only that, but I enjoyed the hip, indie soundtrack, featuring songs from Iron & Wine, Santigold, and The Lumineers (among others). The concept of having a couple telepathically fall in love when separated by great distances poses unique challenges to filming, and those were all handled surprisingly well: mainly the conceit of the characters seeming to carry on conversations with and by themselves while evincing chemistry and a growing affection. This is the equivalent of green screen acting where the performers can’t feed the scene with one another’s delivery or energy. Unlike, say, the new Star Wars trilogy where all the acting was wooden (in part) because of the green screen challenge, In Your Eyes managed to convey a warmth and liveliness to Becky and Dylan’s interactions that are missing from the flatness of their real-life encounters with others in their day-to-day lives.

Through Dylan's eyes, Becky watches a breathtaking New Mexico sunset.
Through Dylan’s eyes, Becky watches a breathtaking New Mexico sunset.

 

Interestingly, the vibrancy of Becky and Dylan’s love brings these two oft misunderstood loners together but further isolates them from the outside world. Though both characters evolve as a result of this new intimacy, we find them even further withdrawing from the potential for interdependency in aspects of their “real” lives like work, marriage, and social interactions. Neither of them are happy with their lives, but using a secret, long-distance romance and fantasies of escape as lifelines are not particularly healthy or sustainable solutions. As a writer, I also find this to be lazy storytelling. So many scenes are of our lead characters alone in rooms talking to themselves. Not only that, but the more interesting story is what life looks like once Becky and Dylan don’t have the obstacles of distance and unhappy lives between them. Do they integrate better into the world as a unit? Do they continue to feel compelled to speak to each other telepathically all day, every day if they see each other daily? Is this connection all it really takes to heal each other them? We’ll never know.

Dylan sabotages a date as he telepathically communicates with Becky
Dylan sabotages a date because he’s busy telepathically communicating with Becky

 

Speaking of lazy storytelling, the psychic premise of In Your Eyes is never fully explored. Why are these two linked? Does this make them soulmates? Do they have other yet undiscovered abilities? Are there others like them in the world? Even the boundaries of their telepathic link are haphazardly explained. For example, we learn that they can hear, smell, and feel things in each other’s environments (as evinced in an awkward mutual masturbation session), but can they physically control things in each other’s environments, too? Does distance matter, i.e. does their communication get stronger when they’re closer and fainter when they’re further apart? Not only that, but Dylan and Becky are simply not that curious for answers. If I discovered a psychic link between myself and a stranger across the country, you can bet your ass I’d be obsessed with understanding the why and how of it.

Becky's piss-poor friend thinks her isolation is due to an affair
Becky’s piss-poor friend thinks her isolation is due to an affair

 

My final and greatest critique of In Your Eyes is how damned trite the story is at its core. When you take away the gimmick of the unexplained and unexplored psychic connection, we have a pretty tame hetero, long-distance love story about two white people who conform to traditional gender roles. Dylan actually hops a plane and ends up in a standard car chase with the cops because he’s white knight’ing it up, on a mission to rescue Becky, the imprisoned/institutionalized damsel in distress. Frankly, that’s boring and uninspired. Simply reversing the gender roles, making Becky the ex-con and Dylan the kept trophy spouse, would have made this story more compelling. I’ve come to expect a lot more from Joss Whedon. At the very least, I expect him to have a more racially diverse cast, amazing dialogue that delights, plotlines that subvert expectations, and, most importantly, empowered female characters.

 

Bitch Flicks writer and editor Amanda Rodriguez is an environmental activist living in Asheville, North Carolina. She holds a BA from Antioch College in Yellow Springs, Ohio and an MFA in fiction writing from Queens University in Charlotte, NC. She writes all about food and drinking games on her blog Booze and Baking. Fun fact: while living in Kyoto, Japan, her house was attacked by monkeys.

Friendship and Loneliness in ‘The Station Agent’

I can remember hearing about a study which found many people use the characters on their favorite television shows as surrogate “friends.” I wonder what those same researchers would make of our post-Televison-Without-Pity cultural landscape, in which a endless stream of writer analyses–sometimes accompanied by roundtable discussions–dissects every detail of every episode of popular television shows, making up a big chunk of the internet. If online effluvia is an indicator, many viewers now spend more time thinking about characters on TV than they possibly could about their real-life friends and maybe even their own partners, family members and selves. We spend so much time thrilling to drug dealing, beheadings, poisonings, secret identities, sudden, improbable career success, zombies, and vampires that we decry as “boring” the few series that have realistically explored issues that are more likely to affect us day-to-day: relationships, work and friendship.

DinklageClarksonStationAgent

I can remember hearing about a study which found many people use the characters on their favorite television shows as surrogate “friends.” I wonder what those same researchers would make of our post-Televison-Without-Pity cultural landscape, in which a endless stream of writer analyses–sometimes accompanied by roundtable discussions–dissects every detail of every episode of popular television shows, making up a big chunk of the internet. If online effluvia is an indicator, many viewers now spend more time thinking about characters on TV than they possibly could about their real-life friends and maybe even their own partners, family members and selves. We spend so much time thrilling to drug dealing, beheadings, poisonings, secret identities, sudden, improbable career success, zombies, and vampires that we decry as “boring” the few series that have realistically explored issues that are more likely to affect us day-to-day: relationships, work and friendship.

Independent films are much more likely to explore these themes than the latest hit series on cable. But even those of us impatient with the contrivances of yet another Sunday night saga have to admit this so-called “Golden Age of Television” has given meaty roles and great acclaim to actors (and to a much smaller number of actresses) who have previously  done excellent but not widely seen work in independent films.

Peter Dinklage, who plays Tyrion Lannister on Game of Thrones (and has won several awards, including the Emmy and Golden Globe for the role and may very well win more) first came to my attention with his starring role in 2003’s The Station Agent (which is now streaming on Netflix) from writer-director Tom McCarthy . The cast is a who’s who of indie actors who have become more well-known through a variety of roles: Bobby Cannavale (from Boardwalk Empire), Patricia Clarkson (from Saturday Night Live‘s “Motherlovers”), a post-Dawson’s Creek but pre-Oscar nomination Michelle Williams and even, in a small role, John Slattery, years before Mad Men. But The Station Agent  isn’t one of those curiosities in which a great cast with promising material becomes a mess, but the much rarer occurrence of excellent actors in a film which knows exactly how to make the best use of them.

Peter Dinklage as Fin
Peter Dinklage as Fin

Dinklage plays Fin, who lives in the building next to the model train shop in which he works. His boss, Henry (Paul Benjamin), a much older man, is his near-constant companion: he lives in the building as well, and they not only work together but eat lunch together, smoke together on the roof and roll their eyes in unison at the obsessives who gather in the shop after hours to watch homemade films of trains.

The boss is the first person we see defend Fin from the stares and harassment he receives. A teenager at the shop counter looks  at Fin as if he were a ghost and Fin’s boss, with an edge in his voice, asks the young man, “You forget something?”

When Fin walks on the street or goes into a supermarket we see people taunt him with “jokes” or stare and then, not quite out of earshot, comment to each other about his appearance. The resolute, straight-ahead gaze that Fin adopts in these situations will be familiar to many girls and women (of every size) who also dare to walk unaccompanied in public.

When Fin’s boss drops dead in the shop, Fin is out of a job and an apartment– and finds out that he’s inherited an abandoned rural railroad depot his boss never informed him about. The estate lawyer tells Fin “I’ve seen you around… You’re one of those memorable people.” He continues that he’s been to the town where the depot is located and “there’s nothing out there: nothing” which appeals to Fin in a way the lawyer could never understand, but we in the audience do.

ClarksonStation-agent
Patricia Clarkson as Olivia

With a suitcase in hand Fin walks on the train tracks (which, in real life, no one should ever do. A train recently killed a woman on the tracks at a movie location) to the station and despite its state of disrepair makes a home for himself inside. After spending his first night there, he meets and buys a café con leche from Joe (Cannavale) the chatty, nosy, relentlessly social man subbing for his sick father as the proprietor of a food truck near the depot.

Joe’s efforts to engage Fin first in conversation and then in friendship are never ending: he’s like the person in seventh grade who decided to be your friend without consulting you first, sitting next to you in class, talking to you, asking to hang out until, because of your own inertia and exhaustion you finally did become friends. Joe even enlists wary, solitary Olivia (Clarkson) as part of the clique: he cooks meals for the three of them at his truck or at her waterfront home. Finn and Olivia first meet when she almost runs him over–twice–as he walks along the woodland road. Later she brings a bottle of bourbon to the depot as an apology. When they are drinking, she asks how he acquired the depot and he tells her that his friend died three weeks ago leaving the place to him.

She responds, “My son, Sam, died two years ago,” then immediately shuts her eyes and asks, “Would you mind not looking at me right now?” Fin, who often wishes not to be seen himself, complies with her request, directing his gaze elsewhere.

Clarkson was the queen of indie film for a time starting with High Art and, in a body of outstanding work, Olivia is one of her best performances: skittish, kind and something of a fuck up all at once. Cannavale makes Joe’s neediness charming, growing on us, the way Joe’s puppy-like presence grows on Fin–and Olivia. But this film is Dinklage’s and its greatness resides as much in his handsome, expressive face as it does in its spare, exacting script. Fin is a man who thinks he will be better off keeping other people out of his life and psyche and then finds they creep in anyway, like sunlight through cracks in a roof. When he is without Olivia and Joe, he is surprised that he misses their company. He also, in spite of himself, befriends the little girl (Raven Goodwin) who plays by the depot.

Joe, Olivia and Fin
Joe, Olivia, and Fin

The Station Agent is one of the few films that not only focuses on a disabled  protagonist without condescension: it also doesn’t pretend non-disabled people behave better than they do–and unlike some other indie films doesn’t portray its small town as more tolerant and welcoming than the city. Although Olivia and Joe, the little girl and the town librarian (Williams) are good to Fin, and–in spite of Joe’s sometimes prying questions–they all treat him as a person, plenty of other townspeople, including Williams’ on-again, off-again boyfriend, the patrons at the town bar, at least one child at the little girl’s school and the woman behind the counter at the convenience store, treat him as a joke and sideshow oddity. The woman at the store even takes his picture, without his permission, as he shops. The film is also unusual among independent films–especially one that takes place mostly in a small town–in the matter-of-fact diversity of its cast: Fin’s boss is Black, as is the little girl, and Joe is Latino (Cannavale often plays Italian Americans, but is half Cuban).

McCarthy went on to make other stellar, independent films, the most recent of which was Win Win with Paul Giamatti and Amy Ryan and his next release is a movie starring Adam Sandler–which could either be very good for Sandler or very bad for McCarthy. But The Station Agent, his first film, is a bracing mixture of melancholy and uplift which deserves to be seen over and over again.

[youtube_sc url=”http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTGUP0JK1cU”]

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Ren Jender is a queer writer-performer/producer putting a film together. Her writing has appeared in The Toast, xoJane, and the Feminist Wire. You can follow her on Twitter @renjender.

Beyond the Mainstream: How Indie Films See Sex Workers

‘Welcome to the Rileys’ and ‘Starlet’ are not flawless examples of how to depict sex workers in film, but they are a step in the right direction. With Hollywood’s repetitive use of sex workers as one-dimensional cardboard cut-outs with a single purpose, the indie genre often gives sex workers, both supporting characters and protagonists, expressed thoughts and feelings, making them fleshed out and human.

This guest post by Nicole Elwell appears as part of our theme week on Representations of Sex Workers.

It’s no secret that Hollywood has issues with accurate representations of the daily life it tries to capture. Society is a film’s subject and audience, but that fact doesn’t always guarantee accuracy. It’s also no secret that certain aspects of society are captured more often and more thoroughly than others, creating a majority that’s up on screen and a minority that shakes their heads from their theater seats. Representation isn’t just about numbers and how often one gets screen time, but it also concerns the details of that screen time. In the case of representation of women in Hollywood, it’s not always the quantity but rather the quality. A film could have numerous female characters on screen and still create a qualitative representation issue.

This ties in with how Hollywood often portrays female sex workers. They exceed in quantity and fail in quality. Despite my lack of knowledge for all Hollywood films that depict sex workers and of actual experiences of a sex worker in modern American society, it’s easy to question and criticize the repetitive formula most sex workers are expected to exist under: be untrustworthy, manipulative, grotesque, or perhaps–worst of all–simply nothing. Most sex workers are written to be as impactful to the story as an out-of-focus desk lamp. They may appear for a single moment, create obstacles for the protagonist, or function as décor or pure entertainment for other characters. If they do serve a greater purpose to the story, it’s usually to flesh out the protagonist or motivate them in some way. With these limits as to what a sex worker can be in Hollywood, one can wonder if this serves as a subtle way of telling society this is how we should view sex workers in general. After all, society is a film’s subject and audience.

The independent film industry is often seen as the antithesis of Hollywood: with no major studios to answer to, the ever-present concern of profit is not always the motivation behind a film’s production. But does the indie genre really use its freedom to break barriers and create a more accurate picture of otherwise inaccurate and potentially damaging stereotypes? Well, yes and no. The independent industry is far from a haven of precise and meaningful stories, but considering that how good an indie film is will usually determine how many people see it, most truly terrible indie films stay buried. Much like Hollywood, the indie genre’s relationship with sex workers is hit or miss. With a far greater number of hits, the indie genre at times feels like the best hope for better representation of sex workers in film.

The film Welcome to the Rileys follows Doug Riley, a man distraught with martial problems and grief over the death of his daughter eight years ago. On a business trip to New Orleans, Doug befriends a prostitute named Mallory and finds new meaning in his life and a surrogate daughter through his growing friendship with her.

James Gandolfini and Kristen Stewart in Welcome to the Rileys
James Gandolfini and Kristen Stewart in Welcome to the Rileys

 

Doug’s wife eventually comes to New Orleans and sees the same opportunities in Mallory, so they all begin to live together. Despite the Rileys’ offers to help Mallory leave her life of prostitution, she repeatedly refuses and, fed up with the lack of acceptance, runs away only to be arrested and bailed out by Doug. The two have a confrontation, and Mallory asserts that she’s “not somebody’s little girl. It’s too late for that.” Doug comes to accept this and heads back home with his wife. This film could have easily been yet another example of how sex workers are catalysts for a male protagonist’s development, and for a large part of the movie that is the case. With Mallory’s refusal to submit to this cliché, the film becomes a hit rather than a miss because it dismisses the same formula that it used for the majority of the movie, while also giving Mallory her own character and declaring that prostitution is not something all women are looking to be saved from.

The film Starlet (available to stream on Netflix) follows the unique and charmingly awkward friendship between 21-year-old Jane and 85-year-old Sadie. After crossing paths with Sadie at a garage sale, Jane becomes increasingly interested in Sadie’s life, mostly to escape the constant drugs and apathy that fills her own. The majority of the film focuses on forming their bond while also exemplifying a generation gap that makes the friendship both refreshing and difficult.

Dree Hemingway and Besedka Johnson in Starlet
Dree Hemingway and Besedka Johnson in Starlet

 

About 50 minutes into the film, the suspicious daily lives of Jane and her friends are brought to life: they are all a part of the porn industry. What Starlet does right is holding off the fact that Jane does porn. Rather, the film makes sure the audience understands that above all else, Jane is a person and shouldn’t be defined by her job. The film establishes raw character before anything else, which serves to not only dismiss multiple stereotypes associated with sex workers in film, but also establish the notion that sex workers are not defined by their professions. The film doesn’t judge or punish Jane, and in its execution encourages its audience to the same. Starlet is an innovative rejection of society’s obsession with careers by asserting that profession doesn’t trump character.

Welcome to the Rileys and Starlet are not flawless examples of how to depict sex workers in film, but they are a step in the right direction. With Hollywood’s repetitive use of sex workers as one-dimensional cardboard cut-outs with a single purpose, the indie genre often gives sex workers, both supporting characters and protagonists, expressed thoughts and feelings, making them fleshed out and human. With the ever-changing and diverse nature of humans, it’s virtually impossible to ever capture a perfect and flawless representation of any type of person, but Hollywood could learn a thing or two about representation from the independent film industry.

 

Nicole Elwell is a sophomore at the University of Baltimore, majoring in Psychology and minoring in Pop Culture. She hopes to bring psychology and feminism into a future career in writing for the movies.

 

Wedding Week: Another Indie Wedding…And Breakup in ‘Save the Date’

Written by Rachel Redfern
Lizzy Caplan and cat in Save the Date
Wanted: Emotionally unavailable girl struggling to realize her romantic potential. 

If that is what you’re looking for then Save the Date is here to realize such a fantasy. This is Michael Mohan’s sophomore film (One Too Many Mornings being the first), and it’s a solid second movie with great actors and a timely story.

Lizzy (Lizzy Caplan) just moved in with her boyfriend Kevin (Geoffrey Arend) of two years. One week later, he proposes; she freaks, then moves out, and it’s from there that the evolution of her relationships begin. During this time period, her sister Beth (Alison Brie) and her fiancé and band mate to Kevin, Andrew (Martin Starr), also travel the tricky waters that run to the great waterfall of marriage.

Thematically, the film focuses on the two men in Lizzy’s life, her ex Kevin, and her new boyfriend Jonathon (Mark Webber), and her obvious patterns of relationships; Save the Date is essentially a character study of one woman and her neuroses and the constant mistakes, fears, and decisions that she does manage to get right. She’s not always a completely sympathetic character, but she is still the one we’re rooting for at the end of the day.

This is the second time I’ve seen Lizzy Caplan in her easy portrayal of the emotionally damaged wild child, the first being in Bachelorette where similarly, the wedding brings up all of her feelings about past relationships and a surprise pregnancy. It’s a character I like, one that while not original, is also not the most common of characters (similar to Natalie Portman in Friends With Benefits, Charlize Theron in Sweet November). But I like the character; it’s one where, rather than neurotic, and desperately searching for love and marriage, she’s the opposite–skittish and non-committal, frustrating and sexy.

Caplan is obviously comfortable with the role and slips into emotionally distant behavior with an alacrity that is almost cringe-worthy. However, I think it’s valuable to see women and men in some role reversal; in Save the Date, Kevin is over-eager and anxious to please, while Lizzy barrels around, being incredibly sadly charming and then pulling away from relationships. 

Allison Brie and Martin Starr in Save the Date
Allison Brie is also lovely in her role as the more traditional, over-bearing sister. She’s impatient and snappy and obviously stressed about her wedding plans but also deeply invested in her sister. In fact, Save the Date removes many of the external friends for the two women and instead has the focus on the balance of their sibling relationship

It’s also productive that the film doesn’t attempt to explain away why Lizzy is so scared of relationships and why her sister is so excited to take hers to the next level. Rather, the two women are presented as flawed characters who just are who they are. Granted, the ending of the film seemed more focused on fixing Lizzy rather than on her own personal growth, but that’s perhaps a plot flaw more than anything.

And on that note, the plot is incredibly simple and slow. The conflict and resolution was easily anticipated and lacked any originality, even the present felt familiar. The film is very much in the ridiculously popular indie style, a style that I have to confess is starting to get a little old with its careful mullets, obscure acoustic tracks, and an ironic attempt to not take themselves too seriously but usually failing. 

Lizzy Caplan and Allison Brie in Save the Date
However, go to this film (or rent it at this point since it’s out on DVD) for the very familiar situations you’ll see, especially of note, Arend’s portryal of Kevin and his struggles with losing Lizzy. Often, romance films pit a “good guy” against a “complete and total lying, cheating bastard,” role that rarely allows for nuance and the complexities and context that accompany our mistakes. Instead, Kevin, Andrew and Jonathon are all different, but likable and sincere. They act like the adults I know, occasionally silly and naive when it comes to love but genuine in their attempts to do the right thing.

Lizzy and Beth as sisters get along perhaps a little too well for a normal sister relationship, but they’re also self-aware of their flaws and apologetic when they cross the line. Sometimes romantic comedies have a tendency to be over-the-top in their caricature of love, so much so that character interactions become excessively unrealistic. Save the Date re-captures some of its lost points for the slow plot with its commitment to showing more realistic interactions between couples and family.

But seriously, no more mullets in indie films. 

 


Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and its intersection; however, she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

Mixing Business and Pleasure: Making ‘Movement + Location’ and Staying Together

Bodine and Alexis Boling
This is a guest post by Bodine Boling, originally published at Bright Ideas, the Seed&Spark blog.
Here is the synopsis for Movement + Location, a crowdfunded independent science fiction film currently in post-production that I am making with my husband, Alexis Boling:
Kim Getty is an immigrant from 400 years in the future, sent back in time to live out an easier life. It’s a one-way trip of difficult isolation, but in the three years since she landed, Kim has built a life that feels almost satisfying. She has a full time job, shares an apartment with a roommate, and is falling in love. 
But when she stumbles on a teenage girl who is also from the future, Kim’s remade sense of self is tested. After the girl leads Kim to her long-lost husband, now 20 years older than her and maladjusted to this time, Kim’s carefully designed identity begins to unravel. Kim finds herself having to choose between two entirely different lives. But once her secrets are exposed, she realizes that the real decision is what she’s willing to do to survive.
I want to say first that it was a gift to make a movie with my husband. I came back to that thought a lot when we were in the thick of production, both of us feeling misunderstood and unappreciated. Gratitude is a good way to find center when all else is cratering. It bailed me out of stress-induced derangement more than once. 
If you find yourself about to get into something similar, I’d warn you that production with a loved one feels a bit like the worst parts of getting a tattoo. It can be painful, enormously so, and you’ll question whether you’ve made the right decision, and well-meaning friends will be like, No, but really? You’re sure you want to do this?
But if you get the chance, take it. Sharing what matters most to you with the person you most love is something almost no one experiences outside of parenthood. And the end result could be something you’re proud of for the rest of your life.
I have three pieces of advice:
1. Bring in an outside producer who can break ties. You need to trust this producer and they need to feel comfortable saying no to both of you. This is the person you’ll call when your spouse hasn’t responded to an important email even though he promised he would and you don’t want to be accused of nagging. This is the person you’ll pull aside on set so you can vent while the next shot is being set up. It will feel like this person is saving your life, but they will actually be saving your marriage.
2. If something is said to you that can be interpreted two ways, assume it was meant in the way that doesn’t offend you. This is hard advice to take but will make your life ten million times better.
3. Making a movie requires a level of confidence that is brutal to maintain. Remember that the person in the room it’s easiest to get mad at is also the person best able to help you cope. You both understand how hard what you’re doing is and how much it matters. Give the support you want to receive and watch it come back.
And look forward to production ending, which it will, because that’s when people will start telling you how cool it is that you were able to make something with a loved one. This sentiment will be absent on set, but trust that it’ll come. What you’re doing is wonderful, all difficulty aside. Enjoy that if you can.
I promise it’s worth it.

Bodine Boling is a writer, actress and editor based in Brooklyn, NY. You can find her on Twitter and follow her process of making the film at http://movementandlocation.com.

Mara Adina on Producing Indie Flick ‘Chuck Norris vs. Communism’

Chuck Norris vs Communism
This is a guest post written by Mara Adina, producer of Chuck Norris vs Communism.
I started my career in film in the Middle East as after university I moved to Kuwait where I worked at the national television (KTV).
I spent the majority of the first month working there trying to find ways for the all-men crew that worked with me to acknowledge my existence, and not just turn their backs when I spoke and then to get them to listen to what I had to say.
I struggled with finding ways to keep hold of my feminine identity and not succumb to the pressure of becoming “one of the guys” in order to be listened to.
On my return to the UK, I look back to what I thought were very extreme circumstances and realise that they are actually a reality here as well. We all know it’s difficult to be taken seriously as a woman in film and broadcasting – but if you add to that a pair of heels and red lipstick, things become even more tricky.
Today, I run my own company and I am one of the few who is trying to break through the bleak statistics of female producers in the industry.

Mara Adina, producer of Chuck Norris vs. Communism
I am currently producing my sister’s feature documentary, Chuck Norris vs Communism, and we are both so proud to tell the world the story of a very strong and brave woman.
Irina Nistor was one of the only female film translators to work in the Eastern Bloc during the 1980s. She dubbed over 5,000 Western blockbusters that entered Romania illegally during communism. Their rapid spread of the VHS tapes across the country turned Irina’s voice into a symbol of freedom and allowed a whole country to subvert a brutal regime. Here is our trailer:
We fell in love with the story and every bit of the journey of making this film has been incredible. We don’t just want to make this film through conventional avenues, we want to fund it by gathering the support of those to whom the story speaks, inspires and empowers.
We want to build a community around it and bring this film and Irina’s story to you, who are also striving to break through the statistics.
So we have launched a crowdfunding campaign for the film where like minded people can join the crew and help tell this story through contributions as small as $10. Please have a look at our campaign and help however you can.
Screen shot from Chuck Norris vs. Communism
The fundraising campaign for Chuck Norris vs Communism is live until this Thursday (May 2).
Produced by Vernon Films in co production with Kloos & Co in Germany, 4Proof Film in Romania and WMM in North America.
Chuck Norris vs Communism tells the story of the transformation of a nation through a seemingly small act of resistance. In the 1980s, Ceausescu’s Romania became the most Stalinist regime of the Soviet bloc.
At the same time, hidden from the scrutinising eyes of the Secret Police, Irina Nistor dubbed over 5,000 foreign blockbusters that entered Romania illegally.
They turned Irina’s voice into a symbol of freedom, Chuck Norris, Van Damme and Bruce Lee into national heroes and allowed a whole country to subvert a brutal regime.
The filmmakers have been working on the project for the past year and a half, shoot for three months and are now in a critical phase of post production. 
The film is nearly complete but they need you to get over the finishing line! So, they have set up a campaign page where you can make pledges and become a part of this film. 
Follow this LINK for the crowdfunding page where you will find an array of exciting rewards including the chance to become an animated character in the film!
For more information go to: 

Please, ‘Turn Me On, Dammit!’

The 2011 Norwegian film, Turn Me On, Dammit! is, in a word, excellent. In the world of about a thousand American Pie films and cliched male teen sex comedies that usually revolve around bathroom jokes and well-endowed foreign exchange students, Turn Me On, Dammit! follows a more female centered theme that is as insightful as it is witty.
 
The star of Turn Me On, Dammit! is Helene Bergsholm who plays Alma, a 15-year-old girl who lives in a small town in Norway and is just realizing the amazing, albeit embarrassing, world of teenage hormones and sex. One night at a party, Alma’s crush, a boy at her school named Artur, exposes himself to her (or as the film’s refrain goes, “pokes her with his dick”) but when Alma excitedly tells her friends about the encounter, a jealous girl refuses to believe the story and spreads it around that Alma is a liar. Artur as well, embarrassed that he’s been confronted with the situation, denies that it ever happened, sending young Alma into the lonely world of high school drama.
 
The film’s writer and director, Jannicke Systad Jacobsen, fills the film with an excellent commentary on the fact that often, men are believed over women in situations of sexual harassment and assault. Now, while Artur and Alma’s situation is slightly different since it was youthful, consensual experimentation and not assault, the point is still there: women accuse, men deny. Jacobson however doesn’t strike an agressive tone with this theme, rather she couches the exposition of it in terms of courage and cowardice. Artur is a young coward too scared to admit the truth and instead just watches as Alma is increasingly shunned and ostracized from her friends.
Malin Bjorhovde, Helene Bergsholm, Beate Stofring in Turn Me On, Dammit!

This theme is one that avoids blame and victimization, focusing instead on the human propensity to make stupid (and even cruel or damaging) mistakes and either be a coward about it, or face the consequences. A gender-relevant argument that doesn’t feel aggressive, giving the film a wide appeal to audiences.

While there is some slight “slut-shaming” that occurs in the film (Alma’s new nickname, “Dick Alma” is called after her by even small children), there is more of a focus on how Alma’s sexual activities lead the people of the town, as well as her mother, to think that she must be crazy or abnormal in some way. It’s a familiar sort of idea in the teen sex comedy, the raging sexual hormones of youth leading to a certifiably insane son or daughter whose activities seem to be those of pervert. Take for example the famous scene in American Pie when Jim decides to have sex with an apple pie because he believes it will simulate how sex actually feels; naturally, that is the exact moment that his father walks in the room.
 
The scene in American Pie, however, is so extreme that it could never be real, a problem that Jacobsen doesn’t have. Alma’s scene’s of “sexual craziness” are awkward and embarrassing to be sure, but never outside the realm of possibility, grounding her characters in in a more realistic comedy. Because of this, Alma is ultimately able to attain something that most characters in a teen sex comedy never can: self-respect. Turn Me On, Dammit! is at its core a film about growing up and gaining confidence in ourselves, a true coming-of-age story where Alma reaches self-acceptance and Alma’s mother is able to do the same for her daughter.
 
So many parental-child relationships are sacrificed in teen movies, parents becoming bumbling idiots whose outdated slang and terrible educational sexual analogies feed into cliched humor. It’s a shame that’s the case since Alma’s mother’s quiet confusion and occasional fear of her daughters healthy curiosity in sexuality lends a lot of subtle humor to the film. Alma’s mother feels her daughter must be abnormal in some way and so all she begins to see is the apparent erratic and embarrassing behavior of her daughter, not realizing the social exclusion her daughter is experiencing. Alma as well doesn’t see her mother’s loneliness and attraction to her boss; it’s a moment of selfishness for each character in their unwillingness to empathize with the other.
 
While the mother and daughter relationship is a strong plot point for the film, my favorite exposition is the very female-centered, sex-positive demonstration of female fantasy. So often visual sexual fantasy in films remains squarely in the center of the male gaze: women in bikinis washing cars, licking ice cream cones, and rising silkily out of a swimming pool come to mind. Alma not only has a very sweet, male phone sex worker friend (who is willing to also just listen to the problems of a young girl, albeit his solution to those problems are “booze”), but also fantasizes about her crush in both the sweet and the sexy, her boss (hilarity with a bike helmet and  “I’m bringing sexy back”), and most notably, a fantasy about her female friend. Female fantasy is often kept in the overly dramatic (when it is portrayed at all) and rarely are same-sex fantasies expressed from a straight woman, a fact I find unfortunate since it’s been scientifically proven that most straight women are actually more sexually flexible in their arousal than men.
 
I suppose that my analysis has made the film sound like the only thing that is ever discussed is sex; this is however, not the case–obviously the issue of first love is important, drugs make an appearance, as does a surprising commentary on the American legal system. One of the main characters, Alma’s friend Saralou, is a social activist concerned with the plight of American prisoners on death row, she in fact writes letters to American prisoners, often discussing the local high school drama with various offenders.
 
The strengths (as well the flaws) of female friendships are portrayed in the film, giving a varied look at the silly and serious side of young people. Instead of a world bound by stereotype and cheap laughs, Jacobsen has created a rich and deeply human world filled with genuine characters and issues. And sex.
Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and it’s intersection, however she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

Female Sexuality in Polley’s Disappointing ‘Take This Waltz’

This small, Canadian romantic indie film starring Seth Rogen, Michelle Williams and Luke Kirby and directed by Sarah Polley seems like it should a moving and insightful film about relationships (much like Michelle Williams earlier movie, Blue Valentine, was). However, despite its female centered love triangle, the film offers little of interest.

If you were to read the synopsis of this film on IMDB it would tell you that “A happily married woman falls for the artist across the street,” a pretty uninformative summary since it’s apparent from the first scene that Margot is unhappy and struggling in her marriage.  The film follows Margot (Michelle Williams) as a slightly off-kilter aspiring writer married to chicken cookbook-writer Lou (Seth Rogen). Margot meets Daniel (Luke Kirby) while doing research for a pamphlet she’s writing and then again on the plane, only to discover that he lives on the same street as her. And so begins their romance, full of clichéd significant looks and fevered whispers, as they get lost in the forbidden.

Unfortunately, my two sentence synopsis was far more interesting than the movie itself, since much of the movie was long shots of Williams looking confused and depressed and Rogen acting oblivious.  The music was a particularly pretentious brand of lackluster indie and on the whole, the film just felt like it was trying too hard to be profound.

In reality, the best parts of the film came from Margot’s interaction with her sister in law, Geraldine or the brilliant Sarah Silverman. Silverman’s character is a recovering alcoholic who, at the end of the film, offers one of the two best lines in the film, “Life has a gap in it, it just does, but you can’t go crazy trying to fill it.” (She’s also a part of a legitimately funny scene involving the incredible world of water aerobics, I tried to find a clip of it online, but alas, I failed).

It’s after the water aerobics scene when we get the second best line of the film, delivered by a naked older woman in the women’s locker room (a great scene by Polley that doesn’t shy away from the normally unsightly issue of aging and women’s bodies—read more about it here); Margot is wistfully considering the merits of “something new” with Geraldine and the woman smiles wisely and replies “New things become old.”

There was a subplot of the film that had some potential as well had it been developed a bit more, in particular the issue of Margot’s sexuality. It’s obvious that Margot and Lou are not the most sexually active of couples since we see Margot attempt to seduce Lou several times, only to be rejected in favor of his cooking. While the lack of sex doesn’t seem to especially bother him, it could be argued that one of the reasons Margot continues to seek after Daniel is the promise of sexual discovery that he offers her. At one point in the film, there is a montage of Daniel and Margot having sex  (it sounds spicy, but really, don’t get excited) where it becomes apparent that Margot is finally able to explore that part of herself; the premise was interesting and one that I think many women can identify with, however I think it could have been fleshed out a little more.

I wanted this film to be good; the trailer was interesting, all of the actors are talented, and Polley is a promising new director (and you know how Bitch Flicks feels about new female directors). While there were good moments and unique ideas being toyed with, the film was, in reality, a lukewarm portrayal of a good topic; in short, I was bored most of the time. 

**Cross posted from Not Another Wave

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Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and it’s intersection, however she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.