Week of November 2 to November 8 (Mann)

What’s on at the Tropic

by Phil Mann

Take Christopher Walken and Sam Rockwell as a couple of two-bit dognappers. Put them together with their buddy Colin Farrell, who’s an alcoholic screenwriter struggling to complete a script titled SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS, that becomes a movie within a movie, sort of. Add Woody Harrelson as a tattooed, blinged and demented crime boss whose beloved shih tzu has been napped. Throw in Harry Dean Stanton as a crazed Quaker, Tom Waits as a serial killer who stalks serial killers, and a few other characters. Put them all in the hands of writer/director Martin McDonagh.

Filmgoers know McDonagh from his rollicking, Academy Award nominated comedy about hit men gone awry, In Bruges. Theatergoers know him from a string of unbelievably dark comedies on Broadway, from The Beauty Queen of Leenane to A Behanding in Spokane. This guy can write! And now he’s come under the influence of Quentin Tarantino, Charlie Kaufman and Sam Peckinpah. You get the idea. Endless clever, witty dialogue; a plot that cycles around on itself; and spoofs of Hollywood clichés from gangsters to cowboys. Just sit back and enjoy it.

“Consistently surprising, Seven Psychopaths ultimately plays like a combination of Quentin Tarantino's self-aware, savvy ultraviolence and Charlie Kaufman's reflexive head trips. And that potentially awkward combo goes down like a chocolate-vanilla swirl cone, only with more guns.” (Marc Mohan, Portland Oregonian)

“It's a devilishly smart film that not only sends up the hipster crime genre, but also makes a powerful statement about violence -- in a brilliantly satirical way.” (Claudia Puig, USA Today)

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When I first saw SEARCHING FOR SUGAR MAN (at a film festival last summer), I fired off a note to Matthew and Scot at the Tropic saying it had been a religious experience … and I don’t believe in religion. This is an astounding true story of an American folk singer who was almost unknown here but was a cult hero in South Africa, and the quest of a curious Capetowner to discover what had become of this lost artist. “All music docs are not created equal. Yes, some are formulaic. But some are beautiful, some are singular, some are marvels of storytelling. And some, like Searching for Sugar Man, are all three.” (Mike Scott, New Orleans Times Picayune) Do yourself a favor and See it. It might just restore a little faith in the goodness of mankind.

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Another documentary about good men is STEP UP TO THE PLATE, which introduces us to Michel Bras, founder of a Michelin three-star restaurant in the south of France, and his son Sébastien, who is taking over the reins. It’s about their quest for perfection and attention to detail, not only in the food itself but in the presentation. You may not know this, but the standard Army guide to mess hall inspectors demands that they include a criterion called “garnish” in their ratings -- in other words, “presentation.” Even the military knows that the eye, like the nose and the mouth, are organs of eating pleasure, and the Bras père et fils are masters of all.

“The food they produce is beautiful to the point of resembling a still life….But Step Up To The Plate is as much about the passing along of a legacy as it is about cooking.” (Alison Willmore, A.V. Club)
“What resonates here are two men, two good men, whose lives have a paradoxically simple and complex bond beyond their profession.” (David DeWitt, New York Times)
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If your attention span is challenged, check out STARS IN SHORTS, which is exactly what its name implies, a collection of short films featuring movie stars. Colin Firth is an apartment dweller bothering his upstairs neighbor Keira Knightley. Judi Dench tries her hand at Internet dating. Lily Tomlin gets stuck leading a funeral procession without any idea of where it’s going. And so on. Seven shorts for as many stars.
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Special Event of the week is Late Night at the Tropic, a return appearance of multi-talented Tom Judson, whose Canned Ham delighted Tropic audiences last year. He’s bringing a new show NATURE BOY – SONGS OF EARTH AND SKY straight from the 54 Below lounge in Times Square, featuring music that incorporates “natural elements of the universe,” including tunes by The Beatles, Claude Debussy and Lionel Hampton. One show only, at 10:00pm on Saturday.
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Alert! Tickets for the Key West Film Festival (Nov. 30-Dec. 2) are now available. Check out KeyWestFilmFestival.com for info on movies and links to buy tix. If you’re interested in a block of tix, use the form at this link: http://bit.ly/TuDlJv, and bring it to the Tropic:

Step Up To The Plate (Brockway)

Tropic Sprockets by Ian Brockway

Step Up to the Plate

This documentary focuses on the legacy of Michel Bras, who has two restaurants, one in  Laguiole  France, and the other in Tokyo, Japan. Both are highly respectedin haute cuisine orbits which transform the making of food into something like abstract art. M. Bras as a kid, was at a loss in thinking about what he wanted to do with his life so he decided to cook with his mother. She made him a chef's uniform as a toddler, thinking he was a natural. "Step Up to the Plate" is about the harmony of haute cuisine not only as a nourishing force but as an art form, akin to music or Surrealism.

M. Bras believes in harmony, using ingredients that are indigenous to the area. He frequently uses sprays of herbs, and elements that might seem ill-placed on thetongue but actually create the Tao of Deliciousness.

At the start of the documentary, Michel ponders getting older and passing the reins to his son, Sebastian. As Michel sorts lettuce under a copper colored sky, he is a bit like the Paul Bowles Antihero, Port Moresby. Bras is up against the march of time and his daily trek to the kitchen and and market is central to his equilibrium and perhaps even his immune system. He sees Time as an enemy. His son Sebastien is a bit of a hot shot, who more than a bit resembles the actor Alain Delon. 

Sebastien recalls childhood spent in the cow stables where he drank fresh milk that was still warm and unpasteurized. His intimacy with the staple recalls something primal and basic, like amniotic fluid at birth. Meanwhile his father looks at the cows with a knowing stare and cries "Moo!" It is as if he, too, knows his days are numbered.

The Bras Family dish is The Gargouillou, a kind of antipasto without meat, featuring every garden herb and flower imaginable. A feast for one's eyes within his /her stomach and very much like edible pyrotechnics. In additon there is also a virtuosic meal- in- an appetizer known as  The Pathway: a dish that can be eaten in four bites:a journey from the savory to the sweet. Sebastien uses a wide variety of eclectic ingredients most of them particular only to Laguiole. There is roasted garlic, stuffed with what looks like a puree of shallots and leeks.  This is combined  with ham and beef, diced to a fine powder, not to mention the all important Laguiole cheese, blackberry jam, and the piece de resistance: a light pudding crepe, the milk-skin, topped with a bread crust which is long, light and thin like the underside of a violin or a musical note that stretches the length of the plate and into infinity.

This is Sebastien's legacy, his personal score of salivary heredity.
Michel and Sebastien  travel to Japan, to attempt to recreate the dish with a distinct organic flavor. Sebastien uses tofu and makes a crust from rice paste. 

He succeeds although Michel is critical:
"I'd like more seasoning," he says. "Perhaps I will add some dulce de leche."
Every singular taste is a sound or note like an haiku in five flavors.

"Step Up to the Plate" has just as much to do with geometry as it does with cuisine. In the hotel restaurants, all elements from the tables and chairs to the wide windows seem arranged for a harmonic purpose, as if in French feng-shui. Or perhaps the expansive space with its gray modular decor is a gastronomic spaceship, fit for a palate yet to be dreamed or tasted. 

Geometry aside, this is about the food most of all and as each squiggling drizzle of puree is splashed across the plate in minimalist slashes, my eyes recall the color field works of Barnett Newman, the thick columns of Robert Motherwell emulated with a slab of tofu, or the landscapes of Miro, achieved by the marrows of broccoli and cauliflower, smiles of red and yellow peppers and orbits of red orach.

Step Up to the Plate" is eye popping and the seasonal earth of France is just as central as Michel Bras in being a prime-mover delivering both appetite and amour. And you can't help feel a sense of foreboding that comes with the passing of time, as shown in one cow's dangerous dead-eyed stare.

Write Ian at redtv_2005@yahoo.com

Searching for Sugar Man (Brockway)

Tropic Sprockets by Ian Brockway
Searching for Sugar Man

"Searching for Sugar Man" tells the story of the cult folk singer Rodriguez, who was cloaked in a shadow almost as thick as The Batman. Until this rich and thoughtful documentary, Rodriguez was virtually unknown in America and still is, wrapped in obscurity like a long black greatcoat. This obscurity or double life that he now has, though, insulates him from the insanity of fame. A fame that has oddly eluded Rodriguez but one that he nonetheless deserves.

When the documentary begins we are on a South African road as mysterious as Jim Morrison's Paris. A comical man by the name of Stephen Segerman, whose nickname is "Sugar" tells how he had been captivated by the enigma of Rodriguez since he was a young man and started a record store. It was reported that the iconoclastic artist, not being able to achieve a living through music in the U.S., committed suicide in the late 70s.

A bootleg copy of Rodriguez's debut album "Cold Fact" somehow appeared in South Africa, but the exact story is unclear.

No matter. A myth was born as fantastical and tall as the disappearance of Ambrose Bierce.

No one knows why the outspoken and wild-rose voice of Sixto Rodriguez didn't make the Big Time. His poetic and saffron-baked lyrics are as compelling as anything by Dylan. Whereas Dylan sang about the volatile world at large during the 60's, Rodriguez spoke about the hermetic world of a downbeat Detroit that he knew well. But his lyrics were no less cosmic or important than the famous heir of Woody Guthrie known once as Zimmerman. My guess is that the Pop media of the 60s, focused in on Dylan, while Rodriguez was left behind. After two records that received high critical praise, despite dismal sales, the poet took refuge in social activism and worked in construction, specifically demolition. Rodriguez was not afraid to get his hands dirty, despite arriving in a tie and dark sunglasses ready for immersion in dust and dirt. And he raised three daughters. All the while having no idea that he was a Superstar in Johannesburg on par with Elvis.

"Searching for Sugar Man" never fails to entertain and transfix with vivid and swirling animations that depict Rodriguez in his dark trench coat and 'Invisible Man' sunglasses. Another highlight is an interview with Sussex Records founder Clarence Avant who has boundless admiration for the artist and is moved to tears, yet he adamantly disputes the cultural impact of his recordings. It's almost as if a supernatural barrier was stopping Rodriguez from achieving American success. Despite hordes of veneration akin to sainthood in South Africa, The poet known as Rodriguez still lives in his modest Detroit home in near-obscurity as he has for 40 years.

Rodriguez remains a humble pilgrim. His blue collar friends do not think he is a rock musician at all. Moreover, they think pictures of the huge crowds in South Africa were simulated by Photoshop.
Rodriguez accepts his American anonymity with a strange mixture of glee and passivity. And we get the feeling that he celebrates hard work and educational exploration as much as music. Demolition in construction, proves as vital as a pair of percussive drums in assisting the tread of humankind.

Write Ian at redtv_2005@yahoo.com

Stars in Shorts (Brockway)

Tropic Sprockets by Ian Brockway

Stars in Shorts

Whether you want to see Judi Dench as a lovesick cyber-flirt, Jason Alexander as an aspiring Broadway star or Colin Firth as a stalker, the gang's all here in  "Stars in Shorts": a collection of seven ambitious short films. While these films are not all equal in strength, every one of them is interesting and there is something for all in these visual appetizers.

In "The Procession", veteran actor Lily Tomlin is paired with Jesse Tyler Ferguson (Modern Family) as a selfish and petty mother and son team  who refuse to attend a funeral and unwittingly get caught it its web. While their sour-grapes dialogue wears a bit, the editing is so fast and furious with an oh-no-what-will-happen- now apprehension, that it becomes impossible to look away.

Next is "Steve" which stars Kiera Knightley and Tom Mison as two young and grouchy people. Mison is a harried journalist and Knightley is just plain miserable. The acting is fine but the couple fight so bitterly throughout that their toxicity becomes a shade monotonous and grim. The milquetoast hubby is such a wet noodle and I just don't know why Knightley's character hates him so much. Is the milk curdled?

You might think so.

Colin Firth as Steve enters abruptly and becomes more and more manic. While never boring, "Steve" doesn't make much sense and the twenty odd minutes are literally twenty odd minutes and everything gets noisy.

Then there is the darkly charming "Not Your Time" with Jason Alexander (Seinfeld) as a struggling screenwriter. Although the story is right out of Neil Simon about a chubby square kid wishing for the big time, I found its quirky nostalgia likable and easy on the eyes. Mr. Alexander, a comedy legend, is  entertaining and endlessly watchable and I enjoyed the cameos by actual Hollywood producers. Sure, it is very derivative of a Woody Allen story or rather ANY  story from Woody Allen, but watching a classic neurotic tale is still fun the third time over.

"Prodigal" stars Shakespearean heavyweight Kenneth Branagh as an ultra-controlling bureaucrat who wants to sink his fangs into a telekinetic young girl who echoes Drew Barrymore in "Firestarter" (1984). While the effects are masterfully rendered and Branagh is terrific as The Man You Love To Hate, the roles are tissue thin and the drama doesn't contain much climax after a promising build-up.

Thankfully though, "After School Special" is a hobby horse of a different color (in this case cadmium red). This film is an anxious, haunting and sneaky story that far exceeds its small scale. Written by Neil LaBute (Director, In The Company of Men) who seldom, if ever, holds back, the narrative concerns a perky teacher (Sarah Paulson), a nervous single dad (Wes Bentley) and a cute but shifty kid (Sam Cohen). I won't spoil the aha moment but every moment of this approximately twelve minute film will make you uncomfortable. It is quite punchy and never releases its hold. Its uncompromising shriek bears something of Albert Camus and Patricia Highsmith and perhaps even "Curb Your Enthusiasm".

There is also yet another Woody Allenish short which is actually directed by Neil LaBute. Shot in black & white, Julia Stiles stars as a put-upon girlfriend who is so enraged, she has a moment of mistaken identity. Although sharply written, this one comes up as a one joke wonder.

Lastly, Judy Dench appears in the lightly comic "Friend Request Pending", directed by Chris Foggin. Compared to the edgy and alarming "After School Special", this film dances on the eyes like a sunny dose of valerian root. This is a breezy character study featuring Dame Dench as a flirty, online feline hoping to score with an argentine Astaire. The star mention of Tom Hiddleston who is fantastic for playing carnivorous characters, is a big tease here: He is only featured for one second as a mere cameo.

On the whole, "Stars in Shorts", delights, pleases, and in one instance, refreshingly provokes. And, in an age of a Hollywood that is often prefabricated and audience-tested, the diversity found in these character-driven films, deserves to be applauded.

Write Ian at redtv_2005@yahoo.com

Seven Psychopaths (Brockway)

Tropic Sprockets by Ian Brockway

Seven Psychopaths 

First, a disclaimer: any film that features the musician Tom Waits as a whispering killer with a pet rabbit has my unabashed seal of approval. 

No, this isn't  Monty Python, but the story could well be included in the Python pantheon. 

This is playwright Martin McDonagh (In Bruges) latest film, "Seven Psychopaths", a film so zany, loose and colorful, that its pointed satire will sneak up on you and hold you hostage.

The initial scene depicts a killer (Michael Pitt) describing to his associate the best manner to shoot someone in the eye. Then, just as abruptly, he gets shot in the eye. I agree. You wouldn't think this humorous at all, but not since "A Fish Called Wanda", have I felt such jarring laughs.

"Seven Psychopaths" centers on a struggling writer (Colin Farrell) and his ultra violent, animal-cuddling friends.

Sam Rockwell plays Billy Bickle, whose name and role is a nod to "Taxi Driver" Travis Bickle: Billy even addresses a mirror at one point. Billy is hyperactive, bloodthirsty, and just wants to be loved.    He is an accomplice to the metaphysical  dog-napper Hans (Christopher Walken).

The dog-nappers make the unfortunate mistake of taking the Shih Tzu of a bejeweled vicious gangster named Charlie, played with obnoxiously silly menace by Woody Harrelson. Several histrionic episodes follow that remind one of a graphic novel if conceived by Eric Idle which lead to a demented domino effect, which in turn introduces us to a medley of manic characters that  outrun Elmore Leonard and Quentin Tarantino combined, not least of which is Tom Waits as the smoky rabbit-toting vigilante of serial killers with a social consciousness.

"Seven Psychopaths" works so well because the story plays so fast and loose, allowing  its players to let go and say something to make us laugh. But in addition, it also addresses the pitfalls of pacifism in our aggressive world. The film is half Looney Toons and half Lao Tzu and it's all about saving a Shih Tzu.

Christopher Walken is terrific in his over-the-top performance as a withdrawn one time killer, who is spaced out on purpose here and deliberately lampoons his real-life effete yet carnivorous persona, making it a point to over-accentuate his speech. Walken has the unique ability to make the fact of wearing a simple cravat into an expression that is both Hitchcockian and poignant. Walken is a peyote-walker in a flannel suit. Having the ability to astrally travel like William Burroughs before him, he is both calm and chaotic at the same time.

No one character has exclusive screen time and the action unfolds as coolly and quickly as envisioned with Frank Sinatra's kaleidoscope. Some of the business is bloody, but the gore is leavened with those non-violent leaders of the past and we contemplate the cycle of blood-gush. Then the tables are turned and some might titter as in a Grand Guignol with Wile E. Coyote while others will see a cosmic joke.

We have to think that director McDonagh is poking fun at Oliver Stone  as well with Stone's reliance on a blood filled climax in several past films. 

The last bit of fun in "Seven Psychopaths" belongs to Tom Waits who puts down his machete and reverently pets his white rabbit as if it will lead him away to Wonderland or  to his lost vixen, the unapologetically bloody Maggie of Bathory. 

This film has a more than a bit of wistfulness to go along with its wiles and you will reflect as well as ripple with laughter.

Write Ian at redtv_2005@yahoo.com

Seven Psychopaths (Rhoades)

“Seven Psychopaths”

Is a Psycho Comedy

Reviewed by Shirrel Rhoades

What do Colin Farrell, Christopher Walken, Sam Rockwell, Woody Harrelson, Tom Waits, Abbie Kornish, and Olga Kurylenki have in common? They all star in the movie “Seven Psychopaths,” the new psycho crime comedy directed by Martin McDonagh.

But don’t jump to conclusions. While the characters these seven actors play may be psychopaths, the title actually refers to the title of a screenplay that Marty Faranan (Farrell) is trying to write.

His pal Billy Bickle (Rockwell) is being as supportive as an unemployed actor and part-time dog thief can be. His partner in crime is a religious nutcase named Hans Kieslowski (Walken). Unfortunately, they steal the Shih Tzu belonging to gangster Charlie Costello (Harrelson), a violent man who would think nothing of killing anyone connected to this dognapping.

Caught in the middle, Marty might just get some good material for his screenplay if he lives to write it.

As one moviegoer describes it, “This is a writer’s film – the subplots (really, borderline vignettes) about the various psychopaths that Marty encounters are well done, their back stories unfold at different paces, and their details that connect them to the central plot are creatively deployed ... Every time the story started to get even a little generic, wild cards came firing in from all sides.”

The screenplay for “Seven Psychopaths” (the movie, not the one in the movie) was written by British-born-but-Irish-affiliated Martin McDonagh, who also directed the film.

McDonagh began his career by scripting radio plays that never got produced, but taught him how to write great dialogue. That led to an award-winning career as a playwright.

“I’ve been on a treadmill of plays in London and New York,” he says. “It’s a great treadmill to be on, but I finally had to step back and maybe live a little bit more and grow up and travel and see what kind of writer or person I’ve become.”

This is Martin McDonagh’s second film, a follow-up to “In Burges.” You’ll find “Seven Psychopaths” playing this week at the Tropic Cinema.

People coming out of the theater will likely describe it as “a weird, twisted, quirky movie that makes fun of itself,” “dark and witty,” “offbeat and funny,” and “a smart (but dark) comedy about characters who aren't nearly as smart as they see themselves.” Expect some gruesome (or should that be “gratuitous”?) violence. And you’ll enjoy some great oddball performances.

You might think this is an amalgam of Guy Richie, Quentin Tarantino, and The Coen Brothers. But it’s clearly McDonagh’s film – the story of an Irish writer named Marty writing a screenplay called “Seven Psychopaths.” Get it?

srhoades@aol.com

Step Up To The Plate (Rhoades)

“Step Up to the Plate”

Is More About Family

Than Food for Top Chef

Reviewed by Shirrel Rhoades

Michel Bras is perhaps France’s most revered chef. His Michelin three-star restaurant overlooking Laguiole, a small village in the remote Aubrac Mountains of south-central France, is internationally famous. Restaurant magazine voted it the 7th best in the world, though arguably it’s one of the top three.

Now in his sixties, he was faced with a question: what would become of his beloved restaurant when he retires?

Filmmaker Paul Lacoste’s documentary “Entre les Bras” (English title: “Step Up to the Plate”) gives us the answer: In 2009, Bras decided to turn it over to his son Sébastien. Séba – as his father calls him – had been working in the family restaurant for some 15 years.

But was he ready?

Dressed in white, from his shirt to his clogs, Michel Bras cuts an imposing figure in his kitchen. The idea that he can turn it over to his son is hard to contemplate. In the opening of the film, we see him studying family photographs that picture him and a younger image of Sébastien. “Time flies,” he muses.

“Step Up to the Plate” tells the story of that transition. And in the process it profiles a family that has been devoted to Haute Cuisine for three generations.

The family business was a hotel-restaurant in Laguiole. Michel learned to cook from his mother, who still occasionally makes the Aligot dish with maestria. “I’d like to thank my parents who gave me the chance to exist as ‘a son of,’’’ he says, paving the way for his own son.

As American celebrity chef Tom Colicchio, who worked in the Bras restaurant as a young man, explains his mentor’s genius: “Bras is out there. Cerebral. He didn’t apprentice in a great kitchen. He’s had no dogma beaten into him.”

While known for the purity of his cooking, Bras utilizes “complex techniques to elevate humble ingredients like onions, bread and mushrooms, with astonishing, often whimsical results.”

He’s also written a number of cookbooks. “Michel Bras Essential Cuisine: Laguiole, Aubrac, France” and “Notebooks of Michel Bras: Desserts” among them. He’s noted for his chocolate coulant with blue cheese. He also invented the now-ubiquitous molten chocolate cake. His signature dish is the gargouillou (gar-gu-yu), an Aubrac classic of potatoes and ham.

A reclusive, bespectacled man, with a missing fingertip, he’s content to let epicureans come to him in the hilly Aubrac region of France – or read his cookbooks. He refuses to open a restaurant in New York.

“We Bras are quite simply enamored of the Aubrac plateau,” he says on his website.  “It’s a place that seems to float like a conversation between Earth and sky. There are strong bonds which link man with his native land, with the familiar landscapes, the summits, the springs which sculpt their way across the pastures.” 

Yet Michel Bras is a smart businessman, trading on his gastronomical fame.  Inspired by Laguiole’s legendary knife-making tradition, Japanese knife manufacturer KAI commissioned him to design a line of chef’s cutlery. One seven-piece set is priced at $3,155. (Note: Bras’s missing fingertip was caused by an accident on a ladder, not the slip of a kitchen knife).

While working in the kitchen, Michel Bras rarely smiles. He speaks only to give a quiet direction. He will spend two hours peeling onions. He makes salads that include 60 individually prepared vegetables, flowers, and seeds. Dinner might take 8 hours of prepping. Perfection is a serious quest.

His son is different. “With Sébastien, we love the cheerful kitchen that provides amazement and joy. That is why our plates are animated with a multitude of … visual elements, fragrant, tasty, textures which awaken the sensations.”

The placement of food on a plate is like a work of art, a culinary painting. Father and son gently quibble over the streaks of foie gras and traces of pepper juice, one seeing it as a right-hander, the other as a leftie.

“Sébastien and I like cheerful cooking that brings surprise and joy,” he says. “It is why we enliven our plates with many different combinations that I call niac. Niacs are structures of visual, scented, and tactile elements that sharpen the senses and prepare for new discoveries.”

Filmmaker Paul Lacoste allows us to witness these extraordinary dishes being prepared by father and son. But it is the intimacy of their relationship that comes through. Family is paramount to Michel Bras. “Often, chefs take themselves too seriously,” he says. “I now serve these dishes to my grandchildren. The luxe of the table is the joy you find around it.”

srhoades@aol.com