Perhaps Contraption are, loosely speaking, a band. If you count modified prams as instruments anyway. They sent us their albums over the years and always received great reviews because they’re great. So I was pleased to receive this new song and video in the run up to Christmas. Its a precursor to a new project they’re ruminating on which should see the light of day soon and a fine piece of ruminance it is too being the greatest video to feature insect on face action since Ultravox’s “Vienna”.

Kim Monaghan

Every morning for the last few weeks, I’ve woken up, reached over to my ‘magical and revolutionary’ Apple device, checked the email, and then almost hurled it against the wall. This is because I was promised I would be sent Red State to review a long time ago, and I have been desperate to see it. Thankfully, it arrived yesterday, and my Steve Jobs sanctioned device remains unscathed.

Pretty much from the moment anyone outside of Red state‘s cast and crew saw this film, it has courted controversy, annoyed self-important film bloggers, and raised director Kevin Smith into the role of Indie films’ returning champion. The weird thing is, none of the above really has anything to do with the content of the film, more about the way it has been released.

Smith premiered Red State at Sundance earlier this year, and after promising a studio bidding war, purchased the film himself for $20, and is now touring the world with it self-promoting his work. His rationale seems pretty sound to me. Why make a a film for $4 million, and then have a studio drop $20 million to promote it, and then have to make $24 million back before you break-even…on a $4 million film? Adding to that, the people that watch Kevin Smith’s films, are Kevin Smith fans, most of which follow his Twitter feed, or listen to his huge network of podcasts. Why pay all that money to essentially advertise to a group of people that already know about the film, and it’s releases dates? Crazy town if you ask me.

Anyway, background aside, I think this is probably Smith’s best film since Dogma. “Really Ken?”; Really SittingNow readers, and here’s why:

Red State comprises of three very distinct parts; it begins in a very Hostel-esque fashion, with three kids going off to the woods to meet a lady they contacted on an online shagging site to lose their collective virginities, they then get kidnapped by a cult, and nasty things happen to them. During this part of the film, we meet Fred Phelps on steroids, or ‘Abin Cooper’ as he’s called in this film, played by the incredible Michael Parks (Dusk Till Dawn/Kill Bill), and his flock of would be Kool-Aid-drinkers. It turns out Cooper’s ‘Five Points Church’, are taking the law into their own hands, and are executing sinners after (Oscar worthy) sermons delivered by Cooper, in God’s name.

The film then takes a left turn, and becomes a Waco-influenced thriller/hostage film, pitting the newly introduced character ATF Agent Keenan, played by the fantastic John Goodman (Barton Fink/The Big Lebowski), against Cooper and his church; tension and gun-fights ensue.

In the third, but brilliantly executed, segment of the picture, Smith throws in a “ooohhh he’s not going to take it there is he” curve-ball, that, in my humble opinion, perfectly wraps up the picture, but I’m no spoiler of films, so you’ll have to just go and see it for yourself.

Red State is Kevin Smith’s love-letter to the films of Quentin Tarantino, and a complete departure from his normally dialogue-heavy comedic adventures. The picture looks, feels, and even moves unlike any previous offerings from the director, which is really apparent about half-way through the movie, when you suddenly remember that it’s a Kevin Smith film that you’re watching.

Of course, the picture isn’t perfect, it could certainly have done with tightening up a little bit in some parts, and it’s clearly low-budget, but this barely impacts on the overall tension and pace of the film.

All in all, this film is a thoroughly enjoyable dark-thriller, that takes the viewer down many forking paths. Goodman and Parks bring their A-game, with fantastic and mesmerising performances, and Director of photography Dave Cline surpasses himself, bringing a combination of gorgeously shot, and perfectly placed hand-held shots that add to the overall uneasiness present throughout.

The true hero of the picture is Smith himself, who has proven to be a diverse, and credible ‘all-rounder’ in the directors chair. He will, no-doubt, be slung arrows by critics who (regardless of the content) have it in for him. But true fans of film will ignore that anal posturing, and just enjoy Red State for what it is, a really, truly enjoyable piece of cinema.

Ken Eakins

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

I’ve been looking forward to Antero Alli’s new film for a while now. His last flick – The Invisble Forest – was an exploration of psychology, surrealism, and the theatric method, filmed on multiple types of camera to throw the viewer into altered states throughout it’s viewing.

Alli’s latest offering – To Dream of Falling Upwards – has a more linear narrative approach than it’s predecessor. Not that it doesn’t take the viewer through a surreal minefield of visuals and expositions, it just happens to have a beginning, a middle, and an end. But enough of the comparisons, lets talk about the story.

A sex-magickian – Jack Mason – is the next in line to become the new head magus of  the Temple of Horus, a offshoot of its more official – OTO-like – sister the ‘Thelemic Temple of Anubis’. However, just as he is about to claim his leadership, the current Temple-Master’s son intervenes at his fathers death-bed, and claims the commercial rights to the order. Mason discovers that the son is planning to commercialise the order, and so begins a tale of murder, mysticism, sex, and comedy.

Along the way we meet some intriguing characters: A professor seeking mystical wisdom from a shamanic witch in the Californian desert, a Russian hit-man, lawyers with a fetish for S&M, and Mason’s Scarlet Lady (played by the Invisible Forest’s Clody Cates).

What is interesting about Alli’s approach to making a film about ‘occultists’ is, rather than dwelling too heavily on the ‘scandalous’ elements of the craft, he has instead chosen to highlight the more social aspects of being an occultist, drawing on the comparison of urban ritual, and rural. This is highlighted most clearly in his ‘Neophyte’ characters, two Thelamites of lower grades who are tasked with the ego-corrosive ritual of going into business together as clowns, and the professor seeking wisdom in the desert.

The film itself leaves you feeling somewhat transformed at the end. Ideas, normally communicated in text, are rendered visually to great effect. I don’t want to ruin any plot points, but Mason’s journey is particularly interesting, it’s final outcome both surprising, and impressively told.

Like The Invisible Forest, this film also has great music, provided by the fantastic Sylvia Alli. The compositions’ haunting and ethereal qualities help carry the viewer along the path of the film, whilst perfectly accompanying the narrative flow.

To Dream of Falling Upwards is Antero Alli’s most accessible film to date, both visually, and narratively. If you want to go on a mystical journey tinged with Crowleyana, humour, intrigue, and Carlos Castaneda, but don’t want the usual Kenneth Anger rip-offs, this film will serve you extremely well.

Ken Eakins

If you’re in the San Francisco area tomorrow – Antero Alli will be premiering the film at the A.T.A. – Details here

If you can’t make the screening, or the upcoming tour, then you can buy the DVD here

Click here to view the embedded video.

The Lawnmower Man is available now on DVD

If Virtual Reality, secret government agencies, chimps that look a bit like Robocop, and a pre-James Bond Piers Brosnan float your boat, then you’re in luck!

The Lawnmower Man, at least in it’s time (92), was a very different film. You have to remember that CGI – in the proper sense – was really still in it’s infancy, and using a CGI characterwas almost unheard of. Bearing just this mind, you have to give director Brett Leonard props for giving it a try.

Ok, so what do lawnmowers have to do with virtual reality?, Very little.

"wait...didn't I see you in Lost?"

The plot of the film revolves around the relationship between Dr Lawrence Angelo (Brosnan), and Jobe Smith (that guy from Lost). After a failed attempt at using chimps wearing cybernetic battle-helmets and enhanced IQ’s (yes, really), Doctor Angelo goes rouge, and uses his secret technology to enhance the mind of local handy-man, and simpleton, Jobe by plugging him into – what appears to be – an Atari ST tech demo. The experimental process works, but with some shocking side-effects.

Now, I know on paper this story line could be misconstrued as ‘cheesy’ – and you wouldn’t be totally wrong – but bear with me.

This film excited me as a teenager, because it showed us all the potential of two things. 1.) that in a few years time, Jar Jar Binks could become a reality, and 2.) that digital art was finally becoming a viable medium in film. I know it’s very easy for us to poke holes at CGI, but I, personally, believe it has enhanced our story-telling abilities.

According to the press release, this film was originally released on DVD in 1997 – I wasn’t aware that DVD players EXISTED in 1997 – but, personally, I’m glad it’s back again. Brosnan plays a convincing mad scientist, and Jeff Fahey (that guy from Lost) does a great job as a simpleton-turned-genius-CGI-madman. Add the special features in this double-disc set – a commentary, featurette, and The Sequel – and you have a package well worth picking up.

Ken Eakins

Through a series of flashbacks, combined with video-diary and archive footage, the Invisible Forest follows a period in the life of theatre director Alex (played by actual director Antero Alli) as he leads his theatre company into a forest to engage with his ‘paratheatrical’ method. During this time he is repeatedly confronted by the bizarre ghost of surrealist French playwright Antonin Artaud, who attempts to instruct and enlighten Alex on the principles of his Theatre of Cruelty, the central theme about which this film revolves. In a sumptuous and Luciferian ‘heart of darkness’ narrative the director, Alex begins to question himself, while about him, his troupe externalises expressions of the strange mythic breakdown he is undergoing.

At first glance this film appears too clumsy to be pretentious. Then a double-take occurs and one realises that the film is far from clumsy, and certainly not pretentious in what it seeks to deliver. It is undeniably naive on certain cinematic qualities that, in their own way, serve to draw us towards the meat of what is important to the film: the exploration of certain metaphysical ideas through a practice of, performance; living mysticism in the body of expression. It is in the cinematic naivety that some of refreshing vitality present in live performance, really shines through. It is raw, it is impulsive, and it is rarely crystal clear. And therein lies the spirit of Artaud’s Theatre of Cruelty.

I shall be honest – and try to set a precedent by this. Watching it with a critical eye it is easy to shoot holes in this film. So why did I find myself enthralled, buoyant and persistently impressed by The Invisible Forest?

Like some of the most powerful films, it is precisely because it is not a ‘straight-forward watch’ that it begins to creep inside you. It soon appears the apparent problems with the The Invisible Forest, or with my relationship with the film, are reflections of  its deliberately discordant elements throughout. So, rather than list the things I like about this film, I am going to consider what appears to be its problems, and why I actually like them.

Perhaps the first thing one notices when watching the film is the discordant and jarring use of different cameras and film. Whilst the clear visual difference between Super-8 and digital Hi-Def is unashamedly brutal, and not a happy marriage. Each camera type is wed to a different narrative thread, allowing us to visually distinguish these strands, that we can both maintain an awareness of the continuity of each strand, whilst giving us the distance to contrast one against the other.

It is during my consideration of this juxtaposition, that Alli’s character, Alex, describes the work he and his troupe are engaged with: to juxtapose discordant monologues and dialogues from Shakespeare, in an exploration of collision and coincidence. This is essentially what is being paralleled by the camerawork: content and structure exploring a key tenet of Artaud’s 2^nd manifesto of the Theatre of Cruelty:

“These means, consisting of differing intensities of colour, light or sound, using vibrations… bringing tonality into play, can only achieve their full effect by using discords.” – Artaud

It fast becomes clear that not only is this film being used as a medium for the direct, in-character, discussion of ideas, but is, as a medium, being used to explore the connotations of Artaud’s ideas, pitching divergent elements against each other to create a vivacity through constrast and sensation.

In this, his latest film, Antero Alli plays the lead rolst each other to create a vivacity through contrast and sensation.

Through the juxtaposition of film mediums, we cannot help but be made aware of the presence of the camera, and consequently, the cameraman. Such awareness recalls certain jaw-dropping twists in Lynch’s Inland Empire, and Jodorowsky’s Holy Mountain, with whom this film shares intellectual and sensory sympathy. In both films, as with Alli’s Invisible Forest, we are brutally reminded we are watching a film, and yet in all three there is a continued seduction into the world of the film, creating a unique tension between immersion and dissociation.

This tension and juxtaposition is taken further in the realisation much of the footage we are watching appears to be extracted from archive footage of Alli’s real-life troupe engaged in rehearsal, exploration and experimentation.

The barriers between fictional narrative and apparent real life are blurred. Is this life-imitating-art, or art-imitating-life-imitating-art? The answer to this conundrum leaps out from the pages of the manifesto of the Theatre of Cruelty: “… there will be no distinctive divisions, no gap between life and theatre.”

Antero Alli’s performance during the therapy scenes is radiant. The subtlety in the largely improvised performance is utterly convincing. Are we watching Alex the fictitious director, or Alli’s the actual director? And this seems to be the crux of these parts in the movie. The film is a strange Schrodinger’s Cat, occupying two mutually exclusive states at the same time: it is both real and fictitious. Alex is the creation and extension of Antero: Life and Theatre are the same thing. It’s all real; it’s all made-up.

Not all of the performances are as beautifully ambiguous as Alli’s. Again the jarring juxtaposition forcibly confronts us, insisting we do not forget we are watching a fictitious film about a troupe of actors, played by a real troupe, who are at times acting, at other times that are acting not-acting, whilst at other times they are just plain not-acting. This juxtaposition is no where better exemplified than when a Luciferian character (James L. Wagner) amidst the boughs of a tree, rants and raves about the void in a most outrageously overly-theatrical fashion only to reach the end of his speech and, pausing, allows a transformation to cross his face that speaks of a sublime vision of reality, so touching, so authentic, it might have only been made possible by contrast with the previous melodrama of the scene.

Furthermore, we are not seeing the portrayal of training as we might expect to see in a Hollywood montage, but footage of real people, genuinely engaging with the work. In this space, so closely identifiable with the Invisible Forest from which the film takes its name, in which non-linear space the film is set, we are continually assailed with layers of ambiguity and discordance, with Artaud’s vision for theatre and its essentially aggressive means, being launched upon us. We cannot be a simply passive viewer, but must become embroiled in personal reflection and interpretation. Again and again, any apparent naivety only serves to reveal the authenticity of the intent behind these facets of Alli’s work and ideas.

Following in Grotowski’s path, and in a strange sympathy with Esoteric and Occult traditions, much of Alli’s work and the training of his actors is not concerned with the staging of shows for the entertainment of an audience: it is about personal exploration and development of the actor and their body into a tool for personal initiation. As we watch the film, we must bear in mind this very quality is inescapable for those performing within the film – much of what we are seeing is real people engaged in real training.

The film is the performers equivalent to the magicians grimoire. It is a vehicle for the explication of ideas that are useful to the actor exploring the metaphysical application of this artform. It encodes and encapsulates essentially aphorisms dealing with the location of the self in the world, and the medium of acting or performance as a means of instigating and realising transformative actions. Like the best magical grimoires, they are largely inaccessible without the reader, the magician, investing something of their own time and energy: this is the diabolic pact. Nothing of this films intrinsic value is given freely; it must be worked at by the viewer; it requires attention, acceptance and reflection. And in engaging with that work, we are in a way becoming complicit in its mission, and the pact is signed.

It is not the film of an accomplished filmmaker, and I am not sure it’s supposed to be working towards that end. This is not a filmmakers film, exploring the territory of cinematic possibility – it is not concerned with that. Rather, it is an idea-driven film depicting individuals exploring themselves through performance. It is a rare insight into the performative and theatrical – paratheatrical – attitudes, physicality and meta-physics of an ostensibly live genre, audaciously captured on film with remarkable sensitivity.

Ulysses Black

The Invisible Forest, and other films by Antero Alli are available on DVD from Antero’s site.

You can check our interview with Antero Alli on our podcast here.

I was made aware of director Tawd B. Dorenfeld fairly recently when I watched the psychedelic, stop-motion animation thing he directed for the recent Secret Chiefs 3 live DVD. It was an enjoyable selection of baffling imagery to occupy my eyes while I listened to some Secret Chiefs 3 stuff that did not make the actual DVD.

The Anna Cabrini Chronicles is a quartet of short films dealing with madness and suicide, scored by Secret Chiefs 3 Trey Spruance … sounds encouraging doesn’t it? I would normally do a detailed appraisal of the individual films, then a round critique of the whole. I find it a little bit difficult to do either in this case because it’s such a disjointed affair. The “stories” involve a selection of people doing battle with personal demons which are dealt with in a highly stylised and figurative fashion, which makes it difficult to discern what is actually going on. This is a device which he uses very successfully in some respects, as the finished product is definitely tinged with madness. Stop motion illustration, rapid fire edits, strange angles, bursts of very loud and disorientating music. All of this and more combine to create a film that is certainly unsettling and memorable. But is it any good? In my opinion it is strangely average. There is no real narrative thread and not much in common between the films. His success in making them look and feel “crazy” is inversely proportionate to his success in making a film that you actually enjoy.

I bought this mainly because I am an obsessive record nerd, and the score by Spruance was the hook that got me. It features some unreleased material, but only in snatches throughout and there is an abundance of familiar Secret Chiefs stuff on there too. Mostly the music and images work well together but there is occasional incongruity too and I can’t help feeling that the film would have been more successful if it had utilised other music in addition to Secret Chiefs. In short, this is for uber-Spruance fans only.

Kim Monaghan

Click here to view the embedded video.

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I became aware of this film when I read an interview with the directors of The Blair Witch project (possibly my all time favourite horror film). The production company behind “Blair Witch” was called Haxan Pictures and they explained that the name originated from this 1922 “documentary”.

A fair and balanced depiction of Witchcraft!

Directed by Benjamin Christensen, the film set out both to summarise the history of witchcraft and also explain it in a “modern” context. The film begins with some explanation of the medieval view of the world, heaven and hell, and how witchcraft was viewed and represented historically. Cue lots of salacious medieval woodcuts and some pointing with sticks. The second part of the film shows how witches spent their time, mainly dreaming of Satan and rubbing themselves down with witch ointment. There are some pretty nifty effects on show for a film made in 1922, and this section gives us our first glimpse of the expensive set pieces involving Christensen made up as Satan. The dream sequences and reconstructions of black masses are very atmospheric, and there is something quite sinister about them. Christensen’s constant snake-like tongue flicking whilst in character as the Devil is grotesque and the cast of amateurs give a surreal but compelling feel to the reconstructions.

The third part of the film deals mainly with the consequences of being accused of witchcraft. The methods of the Inquisition are shown at length in the case of an old woman who is falsely accused. The “witch” is tortured in a deeply unconvincing fashion, but it is when Christensen blithely mentions using thumbscrews on his leading lady (at her insistence, he claims) that things become disturbing. The final part of the film takes the enlightened approach of questioning how many innocent souls were dispatched on the basis of having some mild psychological disturbance, easily diagnosed now but incomprehensibly strange back then.

"Where's my sammich?"

There are so many memorable moments in this film. The gluttonous friar under the influence of a love potion, the old woman chasing money that disappears away from her in a startling stop motion sequence. It is no surprise to find out that the film was the most expensive Scandinavian silent film ever made, and whilst it has very obviously dated, it is still an extremely stylish affair. It is this panache that appears to have kept the film in the corner of the public eye, with a number of different versions of the film appearing over the years. There was a 1968 version narrated by William S Burroughs (which is about half an hour shorter than the original) which is most noteworthy for a startling jazz soundtrack which is totally inappropriate and completely bonkers, but highly entertaining. There have also been not one but two new soundtracks produced for the film as recently as 2007.

I would highly recommend watching Haxan, it is an endearing and spooky document of silent film-making at its best and most charismatic, although you’ll probably learn more about witchcraft from Wikipedia.

Daddytank

It wins bar-brawls apparantly!

This is a weird chapter in the history of the Lips and a long one too. Filmed in Wayne’s back garden and locale over the course of seven years, it has become a highly anticipated event and was finally released just before Christmas last year. A review on the back of the DVD has taken a lot of the work out of this for me. I quote “Imagine if Stanley Kubrick, Frank Capra and Jim Jarmusch got into a bar brawl and the Flaming Lips won…” (Jaan Uhelzski / Relix). Taking elements from all these filmmakers and throwing them in a blender operated by Coyne, they’ve come up with a film that is utterly Flaming Lips.

The story is vague and deals with a life threatening crisis on a decidedly odd space outpost on Mars. (At Christmas, if you’re not keeping up). This setting is really only an excuse for a bunch of set pieces that take you on a wander through the subconscious of the band with themes cropping up that will be familiar to fans. Babies, head injuries, space and the over arching theme of wondering what the hell it is we’re doing here in the Universe. These themes run hand in hand with the strange opto-pessimism that pervades the bands music, with life and its oddness being celebrated at all turns but the spectre of death always lurking in the background. The film lurches from the sublime to the ridiculous with a random cast of actors giving a random selection of performances which range from a brilliant one scene performance from drummer Kliph Scurlock (name dude…) to the rollercoaster ride that is Steven Drozd’s performance as lead character. I say rollercoaster because you watch him swing from being unable to act at all to being completely mesmerizing, sometimes within the same scene. In one particularly moving scene he is obviously smacked up to the eyeballs, which doesn’t help with the course of the film, but as part of the ongoing portrait of Drozd’s increasingly long-term heroin addiction it is quite a raw moment.

The special effects and costumes are fantastic throughout, with their years of attempting to blow fans minds with light, sound and video really paying off. Weird home built sets never really make you think they’re in space but they certainly convey a sense of other-wordliness and it features some of the best space suits I’ve ever seen in a sci-fi film. The soundtrack for all this madness is blared through their own patented Zeta Bootis surround sound system, which likes to accentuate moments of particular oddness by GETTING VERY LOUD. This sounds like it would be annoying but it actually makes it quite a visceral experience. All this audio-visual freakery is balanced out with an exceptionally cosmic soundtrack of low key synths that sound like Eno at around his “Music For Films” stage. In fact most of the music would not sound amiss on this album or on Eno’s “Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks” and it’s an interesting change of pace for the band who have come to specialize in quirky power-pop over the last couple of albums.

I would heartily recommend this film to anyone who likes B movies, sci-fi or just crazy ass films in general as it is by no means a “fans only” affair. Oh and keep an eye out for the scene with the alien astronaut holding a baby with a head injury. The “alien” gave me quite a shock when I realized what I was looking at.

Daddytank

Ipecac 100 – A Perfect Place 

Is it really almost a decade since Ipecac appeared, and have they really reached their hundredth release? Yes is the answer. In fact, they’re actually up to IPC108. A hundred and eight albums since I got my grubby mitts on IPC 01 the first Fantomas album. And to celebrate this landmark release, they have taken their first steps into the world of film. This is a double disc package for under a tenner, with one disc being the movie and the other disc being the Patton produced soundtrack, so I figured it would be appropriate to review them separately.

The Movie

This is a short film which is long for a short, coming in at just over twenty minutes. It is a black and white noir thriller…of sorts but I don’t want to review it in too much depth because it will spoil the surprise. The two protagonists Mark Boone Jr and Bill Moseley are both indie flick favourites, having cropped up in various supporting roles over the years and they give the film a suitably ambiguous feel. There are a few nice set-piece vignettes that are dotted throughout, which change the tone of the picture subtly from its initial aspect to the denouement. All in all it may not be the most remarkable short film you’ll ever see, and it may owe a considerable debt to David Lynch / Jim Jarmusch, but it is certainly enjoyable and will stand up to repeated viewing well being a stylish and promising inaugural effort for Fantoma films.

The Soundtrack

This is an excursion into Mike Patton’s “noir soundtrack / exotica” persona that have surfaced in the records he has made since Ipecac was conceived. Taking elements of “General Patton”, “Patton / Kaada” and the more exotic / jazz leanings of Mr. Bungle he has created a distinctive soundtrack that benefits the film considerably. Whistling, bongos, brass and Theremin all take parts in recreating the central overture which features in almost all of the tracks. It is a disciplined release for Patton, only occasionally freaking out on tracks such as in “Car Radio AM/FM” although he does indulge himself in spectacular fashion on the disturbed faux gramophone jazz of “A Dream of Roses” (my favourite track). The soundtrack is basically incidental in the film, to be honest, but it does work well as a stand alone album and it also lets Mr. Patton vent his “I want to be an Italian opera pimp” leanings while giving me the opportunity to put just a few more coins his and Ipecac’s way.    

DaddyTank

Title:  Mike Patton - ‘A Perfect Place’

Label: Ipecac Records/Southern (Europe)

Released: Available Now

Format: CD/DVD (inclusive)