Beyond Inspired

I'm starting to see some familiar faces...Not it's not déjà vu. (crappy film or mind game) Sitting in the theatre, waiting for Esperando, Gordo, and Beyond the Call, I recognized several familiar faces from past screenings-not just filmmakers, but also film enthusiasts. That's not to say I didn't recognize some filmmakers in the audience. I saw Jose Lemus (the director of Suckerfish) and Hoku Uchiyama (the director of Rose) sitting in the audience. And I've been running into directors in the parking garage across the street from The Palm. As odd as it may sound, seeing these incredible artists in an ordinary setting gives me something of a thrill. Maybe I'm starstruck...not in the moronic, panty-throwing sort of way but in a quieter admiring-them-from-afar fashion. I think I'm still having a difficult time reconciling the fact that the amazing things I see on the screen were born from actual human beings.

The first of the three films that I saw today-Esperando, which means hope...or at least, I think (hope) it does, was black and white with dialogue in Spanish and English subtitles. The director, Michael Flores, mentioned that he was a Cal Poly student who actually attended a film class at The Palm...it's amazing to think he started dreaming of a career making films in the same theatre that everyone got to see his beautiful creation. His enthusiasm for film even excuses the fact that he is a USC student (a generally unpardonable crime).

Gordo, the second short film, also had subtitles. This was a hilarious movie. It's about a guy (Gordo) who owns a taco stand in Mexico and uses a secret ingredient (tamarind) to make the stand wildly popular. To support his pregnant wife and almost-born daughter, he sneaks across the border into the US only to find that an illegal immigrant can't get the necessary papers to open a taco stand in the US. So, he does the next best thing and begins working for a chain store that sells taco-utterly without soul and with questionable ingredients, but cheap. On the sly, he begins to add his own secret salsa to the tacos, and the store's sales skyrocket. I'm not going to give everything away here, because I think everyone should try and find a way to watch this amazing film; let's just say that when the little guy stands in the way of corporate profit, he tends to get run over. But at least he still has his wife and daughter in Mexico. Director Vince Navarro had some really funny stories about filming-describing the entire crew set up in tents in his aunt's backyard in Watsonville. Primo Gonzales, who played the main character, agreed to cut his hair, gain weight, and grow a mustache for the role. All in all, it sounds like a group with a lot of heart and that came across in the film.

The final film, Beyond the Call, was the shocker of the afternoon. I attended this tri-screening because I was really interested in Gordo, and I didn't give Beyond the Call too much thought. In fact, this 80-minute documentary nearly brought me to tears. Three men-Ed Artis, James Laws, and Walt Ratterman use their private funds and time to travel around the world for various humanitarian causes. They bring a solar-powered oven to a girls' high school in Afghanistan and donate funding so that the teachers at another girls' school in Afghanistan can get paid. They bring food to refugees in various countries, not sending the food, but literally traveling (by an necessary means) to hand-deliver the resources to people in need. They bring medicine to heal the many wounds and ailments (many war-related) to citizens. And believe me, this is not your average non-profit humanitarian organization. These guys are cowboys, total badasses, who are so kind and generous and determined that I wish the world was chock-full of these huge-hearted, bad-ass cowboys. They don't question anybody's religious or political convictions. Their aid comes completely without clauses.

Beyond the Call began with one of the men stating that "When I was younger I knew I wanted to be something but I didn't know what..." He did, however, know that he didn't want to be lazy or watch the world pass him by. And he's right...Few of us know, absolutely, what we're meant to be doing but that doesn't mean that we should sit on our asses while we figure it out. And these guys aren't the annoying saint type either. They're playful, intense, and human. One stock-piles things he might need in the event that he can't get out of his house (toilet paper and freeze dried food) and uses solar power to generate energy for his house. Another plays with an 18th century cannon sitting in his yard (and by play with, I mean sets off) and rides his miniature locomotive. Did I mention that he has a death mask of Napoleon? And a third describes his goofball youth, commenting that if he were a child now they'd probably drug him up or put him in a straightjacket. These are very humorous men. But they also mean business. When necessary, they are armed. They've been shot at, Ed was kidnapped. You name it, and they've done it or seen it.

They're real live knights (they've been knighted by different countries) and they act the part...they even had a Betty Crocker bake-off with some students at the girl's high school in Afghanistan...using the solar powered oven they brought, of course. As I watched this film, with growing admiration, sadness, and anger (there are so many problems in the world and so few people seem to care), all I could think was "Damn, these men know how to live!" The organization that they started, Knightsbridge International, have a web-site at www.kbi.org. You can e-mail them at KnightsBrg@aol.com and you can buy this DVD at www.beyondthecallmovie.com. Also, and this is VERY important, there is another opportunity to see Beyond the Call at the Palm at 12:00 on Sunday (with the time change, it'll feel more like 11) and I urge you to go and see it, if you possibly can. You'll laugh. You'll probably cry. And you'll get to meet real live cowboy/ knight Ed Artis in the flesh and talk to him about his upcoming project to bring aid to Darfur. What could possible be better?

Three generations of shredding surf film makers!

Okay, first of all, What the hell? Bruce Brown smokes? I guess I was a bit naive about that because after last night’s (3/8/07) Mission Grill reception for three generations of surf filmmakers—Bruce, Dana, and Wes Brown—I expressed my “Bruce Brown smokes?” incredulity to New Times’ sales rep and hardcore surfer Lars Neshime, who exclaimed, “Have you ever seen his teeth?” Apparently not, Lars, but hells bells! The man spent a lifetime chronicling hardcore athletes! How could he … SMOKE!?! It’s bad for you!

Let this be a cautionary tale to you, young grommets! Don’t smoke or you may become an aging, highly revered surf filmmaker mobbed by fans demanding autographs at a tribute for you organized by an up and coming film festival. Shame, Bruce, SHAME! Nice job on the progeny, though.

Not only is Bruce the famed auteur behind the proto surf flick Endless Summer, but his genes have spread into two more generations of surf film raconteurs, who like their forebear, have woven narratives tales of the Sport of Kings. Dana’s film, Step into Liquid, chronicles the many forms surfing takes, from Midwestern Great Lakes wind chop surfers, to guys in Texas who follow around huge ships to surf their wake, to the shores of Ireland and Rapa Nui and other places we normally don’t think of as surfing meccas. The film screened to a less-than-full-but-still-appreciative house last night at the Fremont.

The youngest Brown, Wes, co-directed (with T.J. Barrack) last night’s second feature, Chasing Dora, which basically tells the story of a wild goose chase as three surfers—Robert Weaver, Marc Andreini, and Mickey Muñoz—go in search of the legendary and enigmatic (and possibly psychotic and criminal-minded) Mickey Dora, the famed “Cat of Malibu,” who in the ‘60s was the best surfer around but who eschewed and condemned surfing’s growing commercialism. Reputed to be living near J-Bay in South Africa, the three head off in a fruitless search for Dora.

These two films were preceded by the pre party for the Browns at Mission Grill, which was a real mob scene. From the moment Bruce was ushered into the patio, he was bombarded with requests for autographs on Endless Summer memorabilia. I haven’t seen that many aging surfers since that weekend I spend in rehab. All three generations of Browns also signed a custom surfboard that was raffled off at the screening. Out in front of both the grill and the theater were beautifully restored woody wagons. It was a real nostalgia fest. Local surf rock cover act The Dentures (like The Ventures, but they're all over 50 ... get it?) entertained the crowd. A fine time was had by all.

Alright, people. Don’t forget, there’s three days of films left, so check the festival web site at www.slofilmfest.org and hit some of these movies, and also keep in mind you can rub shoulders with some stars—or at least one—when James Cromwell is given the King Vidor Award on Saturday, March 10 at the Fremont, after which you’ll see a screening of L.A. Confidential, the 1997 crime and corruption flick that perfectly captures classic film noir. I’ll see you at the movies!

Finishing strong!

Again, I have been inspired to consider film school. Marrying God, an 18 minute film about young girl name Lola (played by the little girl in Crash) was fantastic...and created by students from the American Film Institute Conservancy who also happened to be the recipients of the 2006 SLOIFF scholarship. It's good to know that the festival is taking an active role in the creation of new films in addition to showcasing those that have already been made.

I also enjoyed Ladylike, though less than I had anticipated. It was a brief six minutes, completely without dialogue and the loud music tended to be a little over-bearing, but I'm glad that I saw it.

Then there were the Desert Dreamers, who the audience seemed to love...first laughing at them and later sympathizing with-exactly as Director Frank Suffert had predicted. It was interesting seeing him in person, after interviewing him over the phone. I wanted the opportunity to thank him in person for the interview, but there was a bit of a crush as people left the theater and I kind of got swept along with the tide. Given that the films began screening at 2:30 during a weekday and the theater was almost completely full, I was pretty excited to see how many people were interested in the films.

Tomorrow brings many brilliant films and I'm undecided regarding which I will be attending. On the one hand, Esperando, Gordo, and Beyond the Call at 1 is an intriguing timeframe. I particularly want to see Gordo, about a Mexican immigrant who sets up a taco stand in Watsonville. As a native of Prunedale, I'm a big fan of the taco stands of Watsonville and the movie looks hilarious. Also at 5:30 is the documentary A League of Their Own, which is inspired by the Hollywood flick which Geena Davis starred in. In fact Geena Davis' character is based on the mother of Kelly and Casey Candaele, who created the film. I'm a big fan of women's sports, and I have always loved that movie. However, sharing the 5:30 slot with A League of Their Own is First and Ten, a nine minute film that I hated. I leapt at the opportunity to watch it because it's about a young female athlete who fights for the opportunity to play football with the boys. I played football in high school and imagined that this film might movingly express the challenges of being a female athlete in a male-dominated world. Intead, I found it trite and simplistic. But nine minutes do pass quickly, so maybe I'll bite the bullet and sit through it again. We'll see.

Day 7: A blissful something...

While waiting for Rose and Iraq in Fragments to begin, I realized, for the first time in the seven days that I have been attending the festival, that it's wonderful to realize that these storytellers are real human beings. Wonderful and terrifying. You sit in a theatre once or twice a week (if you're lucky) completely emotionally bound to whatever is happening on the screen, and yet you never have the opportunity to see the faces of the people responsible for drawing those emotions. The Gages, who made Our Land, Our Life, which screened yesterday, were sitting in front of me. I immediately recognized Hoku Uchiyama, the director of Rose, sitting several rows ahead of me in the space reserved for the directors and cinematographers.

I was particularly looking forward to watching Rose because of an incredible press packet New Times received about the film. It had several incredible photographs that seemed to spark everyone's interest. The film was as visually arresting as those still images. It expertly built tension, made me laugh a few times, and stretched convention in ways that really captured the audience's attention and curiosity. In fact, after the film was over Uchiyama discussed the fact that the various characters (seven or so) all seemed to come from different time periods. The main character, Travis, was dressed for the Dust Bowl migration, and Rose had a similar romantic, nostalgic, historical feel to her-both her clothing and her temperament. Travis' hickish brother had a decidedly '80's flair, and the characters reference television shows that cross decades as well. Yet, the audience somehow manages to notice all this without being distracted from the dramatic plotline. Rose was definitely a gust of fresh air-watching it actually felt like sitting outside in the woods as a gust of wind comes by-and so was writer/ director Uchiyama. He was affable, funny, and had a lot of interesting things to say about the film (as did the cinematographer). The theater-which happened to be full despite the fact that the film began at 4 on a Wednesday-chuckled and seemed to admire his comments a great deal.

The second film, Iraq in Fragments, was of a different nature. I really enjoy the title which alludes not just to the fact that the documentary is fragmented into three different narratives between Sunnis, Shiites, and Kurds. But the documentary isn't half as fragmented as the country itself, where everyone is at war with one another over everything. The noisy sounds of chants, helicopters overhead, and spontaneous gunfire create a tumultuous portrait of a country that has broken into so many pieces, that nobody seems to know how to put it back together again. It was somewhat difficult for me to watch people, who I thought that I sympathized with, say and do things that revealed a value system completely foreign to my own. Watching this film, I realized that I don't know all that much about Iraq, but the more I know the more depressing and complicated the situation seems to be. Ignorance is bliss? Not so much. Maybe peace is bliss.

Tomorrow I'm off to see Ladylike, Marrying God, and Desert Dreamers at 2:30. Ladylike is about two neighbors with very different worldviews. Fatima is a devout Mulsim woman and Nikita is more of an exhibitionist. One can only assume that they'll learn a valuable life lesson about a shared sense of humanity. Marrying God is about one young girl's struggle to learn a prayer for her communion, and her later struggles to assister her older sister. Desert Dreamers is a fantastic documentary about artists and spiritualists that find themselves in the Mojave Desert making art and living their lives far outside the realms of what many people would consider normality. I had the opportunity to interview Director Frank Suffert (who will attend the screening for a Q&A session!) and he was incredible! He managed to capture what was different about these people without any sense of judgement or reserve. And he has a lot of insight about the challenges and rewards of independant filmmaking. Even though I have already seen this film, I don't want to miss the opportunity to talk to Frank in person. (For a copy of my interview with Frank pick up the March 1 issue of New Times)

Now I realize that 2:30 on a weekday is difficult to schedule around, but this festival comes around once a year and we SLObispans have a rare opportunity to pick the brains of people who love their work, make money from it (sometimes), and who are actually saying whatever they have to say about the world. It's not often you get to step out of a movie and engage in dialogue with the person who put it together. So, I'll see you at the movies...

A call to arms...of sorts

Today I deliberately chose to attend a film that I had already watched for a review that New Times printed on March 1. I wanted to see Our Land, Our Life yet again, wanted to feel the outrage and sadness that it had inspired within me ripple through a larger audience. But before the longer documentary, there was an animated short (29 minutes) called The Naked Hitchiker. It was interesting, and decidedly unexpected. I can't honestly say that I liked it, but I definitely respect its decidedly unique voice. There was supposed to be a Q&A with filmmaker Eleanor Lanahan, but, for whatever reason, that didn't end up happening.

After the bizarre, animated spiral into a woman's insecurities and self-doubt, Our Land, Our Life was definitely a dose of reality. I'm really glad that I decided to watch it again, because the large screen breathed new life into the film. The plains that I had thought amazing in my living room became breath-taking on the larger screen. And that triggered an even stronger emotional response to the film, if that is possible. Part of me wanted the audience to watch the film, hop in their cars, and angrily riot their way to Nevada, determined to help Carrie Dann in her legal, not to mention moral, battles against the US government. If the people of SLO County watched one film during this festival, of all the beautiful, thoughtful films, I wanted it to be this one. What greater purpose could film possibly serve than to inspire social change and awareness?

Our Land, Our Life is the story of the Dann sisters, two elderly Western Shoshone women living on a ranch in Nevada, a ranch that has been passed down through countless generations of Shoshone ranchers. Until the US government decided to void a treaty it signed in 1863 agreeing that 60 million acres does, in fact, belong to the Shoshone. Watching the government spend millions of dollars to ruthlessly round up these women's livestock, fine them for trespassing, and generally do everything in its power to persecute them for a seemingly unknown reason is heartbreaking. We'd all like to think that we live in socially progressive times, that generations before us have fought for rights that we can now enjoy. It's painful to believe that anyone, much less the government that is supposed to be representing you, could be so callous. Of course, when the audience discovers that gold has been discovered on Shoshone lands, it all suddenly becomes clear. The land the sisters struggled for three decades to protect is pillaged and poisoned, all for some gold. With the film's soulful music and heart-wrenching plot, it was difficult not to cry, with sadness and frustration.

When the film ended and the audience was ushered to festival headquarters next door for a Q&A session with the Gages, who created the film, everyone had the same question: how can I help? Their response: Visit the Western Shoshone Defense Project's web-site (www.wsdp.org) and donate time and money to their cause. This is not an issue that people can afford to ignore. These people have endured centuries of abuse, discrimination, and dehumanization, and yet, in the film, they still laughed and joked. There's something worth preserving there.

Tomorrow I'm off to watch Iraq in Fragments (is anyone noticing that I'm a sucker for a political cause) and Rose at 4 p.m. From the moment the office received the press materials for Rose, I have been eager to watch the 34 minute film. Written and directed by Hoku Uchiyama, this fantasy/ drama is about an 11 year old boy who witnesses the murder of a 17 year old runaway friend. Every year he returns to the same place and witnesses the same murder. Yeah, it sounds a little creepy (which I'm not into) but the promotional photos are so beautiful that I'm willing to brave the horror.

Iraq in Fragments is a 94 minute film about-you guessed it-Iraq! This is a documentary about the country through the eyes of Sunnis, Shiites, and Kurds (yes, President Bush, there are different sects of Muslims). This film has been winning awards all over the place, received rave reviews from our editorial staff, and should hold some insight into a very politically charged topic that too few people really know anything about. Hopefully I'll see you there...or on the road to Crescent Valley...

Huzzah for shorts!

The theater that was showing How to Train Your Pet, Suckerfish, and The Lonely Boys was completely packed. Supportive family members and friends seemed to account for a number of audience members, as many of the films were shot locally and several people in line for the film were carrying flowers. Across the theater I saw local filmmaker Dave Baumgarten taking a seat, a subtle reminder that filmmakers aren't always Hollywood bigshots with pockets lined with cash from their latest film. Dave recently completed his film, So Love Returns, which he has been working on for several decades and just missed the timeline for entering it in th festival. But I digress...


Waiting for the films to start, I must admit that I was nervous. I tend to be one of those critical film fanatics who can't excuse a flawed film simply because it was made locally or the director was young. That said, I am pleased to acknowledge that my sharpened critical instincts met with no antagonism whatsoever. The first of the three-How to Train Your Pet-was a black and white spoof on the handy "how to" videos of the 50's. The audience was invited to "Meet Sally...a woman who knows how to make her man come but not how to stay." The film was rife with innuendo and was very well acted. When the young director stepped out of the audience for the Q&A I was surprised to see a yoing woman that looked like she could have been in high school. As it turned out Ann Finnegan is a film student at Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles. Several scenes were clearly shot in San Luis Obispo, including one memorable scene of a bad boyfriend relieving himself in front of The Fremont and a row of potential boyfriends in cages at the Woods Humane Society...I think the audience was impressed with the notion of a world where dogs have found a home and wandering boyfriends are kept in kennels.

The second film, Suckerfish, addressed a slightly more serious topic-homelessness. Using taped interviews with at least a dozen homeless men and women across California, the film highlighted some of the problems that the homeless face-particularly harassment from cops. I was really pleased at the end of the film when Director Jose Lemus called attention to one of the film's most articulate and vocal interviewees-a man named Michael Ian who stood at the back of the theater. He received a loud round of applause-it truly was touching to see him there, watching our reaction to an issue that he is so deelpy affected by.

The third film was equally different from the other two. It was longer than the eight minute pet training spoof by two minutes and only half the length of Suckerfish. All you brainy, math types out there, figure that one out! The music really made this film, which was beautiful and comic, and over too soon. Watching The Lonely Boys felt a little like watching Little Miss Sunshine and a radical coming of age tale wrapped into one. It was incredible. Again, I was shocked to see four young men walk to the front of the theater. They too, turned out to be students at Loyola Marymount, where, they informed the audience, as film students every weekend is filled with work on some project or another, which explains the incredibly polished, perfect film the audience had the pleasure of watching. I was, and remain, filled with the desire to attend film school.

Tomorrow I'm off to a 4 p.m. showing of The Naked Hitchiker and Our Land, Our Life. I don't know all that much about the first of the two, except that it's about a woman who is picked up by a truck diver after hitchiking naked due to emotional anguish caused by her recent divorce. It should be good because, really, who hasn't been there at one point or another? Filmmaker Eleanor Lanahan will also be present for a Q&A. But I am truly anticipating watching Our Land, Our Life. I have already watched the film twice, for Split Screen, and Glen (my fellow reviewer) and both felt deeply touched by it. The reason I want to see the film for a third time in as many weeks is because it's the sort of film that should inspire outrage. A tale of the US governmen's cruel and selfish persecution of two elderly Shoshone sisters, the 75 minute documentary is a testament to our government's despicable lack of values. I want to watch other people's reactions to this film. I hope they feel the outrage that I felt the first two times I watched it. The film features amazing scenes of Crescent Valley in Nevada, sweeping plains and mountains, the kind of land you could consider calling home for countless generations of family members. Also, there will be a screening of the 80 minute film Unauthorized and Proud of It: Todd Loren's Rock N' Roll Comics at 8:30 p.m. Glen and I also reviewed this film, which I found remarkably interesting.

I'm off to find myself a film school application...

Day 4....and a slight hitch in festival proceedings...

With Stalking Santa (which editor Ryan Miller gave rave reviews) at 3, Kooniklaster and The Page Turner at 4, and 10 Questions for the Dalai Lama at 5, deciding what to watch on the fourth day of the festival is rather like being forced to, well, make a difficult decision. Ultimately, the fact that I can watch the screening copy of Stalking Santa that Wendy gave New Times, combined with the fact that I knew everybody would probably rush out to watch 10 Questions for the Dalai Lama convinced me that Kooniklaster and The Page Turner were the (foreign) films for me!

I can't help but admire the way the scheduled films are so perfectly paired-not necesarily by theme or genre, so much as tone. Wine fanatics will tell you that the right, or wrong, wine can significantly effect the overall quality of a meal, and it makes equal sense that any two films can't be haphazardly thrown together without proving detrimental to the viewer's overall experience. Kooniklaster, a 17 minute Polish film about a young man who travels with his magician grandfather would be the perfect compliment to the 85 minute French film about a young, former pianist who becomes the page turner for a well-known concert pianist suffering from a personal crisis. But alas, the perfect pairing was not to be!

Upon my arrival at The Palm I was told something to the effect that The Page Turner had not arrived and, instead, we would be watching It Came From Outer Space, the 1950's, 3D, Bradbury, sci-fi flick. It's understandable that there might be minor difficulties over the course of an 11-day film festival, but I considered returning for a later show. 3D glasses are difficult to place over normal glasses and 3D tends to make me nauseous (as do sci-fi films, though for completely different reasons). None of the other atendees seemed all that bothered by the change in plans, and I stuck around.

Kooniklaster was absolutely beautiful-black and white with minimal dialogue (making the subtitles less distracting). Somehow everything about the film was poignant, even a shot of a boy shuffling his feet in mud. Once that brief and beautiful repast had concluded everyone put on their 3D glasses for 81 minutes of cheese. I did not really enjoy the film, but the rest of the audience seemed to, giggling at the dialogue and the lead female's incredible shrieking abilities.

I'm hoping for a better pairing tomorrow when I go to see the 8 p.m. showing of Suckerfish (a 20-minute documentary about homelessness in California and SLO), How to Train Your Pet (an 8-minute comedy shot in SLO) and The Lonely Boys (which was shot at the local Sunshine Donuts). Again, the only reason I was able to settle on these particular films is because I get to watch The Damnedest, Finest Ruins (which shows at 4) at home. The Damnedest, Finest Ruins comes complete with a Q&A with director James Dalessandro. This documentary is about the fall of "The Paris of the Pacific" (San Francisco) following the earthquake and fire of 1906. Using archival film, photographs, and interviews with historians, the film creates a portrait of the wealthy, libertine city, both before and after the earthquake. I highly reccomend this film, even if you have to lie to your employer in order to leave work early.

Here's hoping it's at least a month before I have the occasion to wear 3D glasses again!

Norman Jewison—a class act!

Fans lined the red carpet waiting for a glimpse of award-winning director Norman Jewison last night. Jewison, who was at a wine reception next door at Buona Tavola, is the man behind films such as The Cincinnati Kid, The Russians Are Coming the Russians Are Coming, In the Heat of the Night, The Thomas Crown Affair (a personal favorite of mine … gotta love Faye Dunaway fondling that phallic chess piece as Steve McQueen smirks that little smirk off his), Fiddler on the Roof (which screens on Tuesday), Jesus Christ Superstar, And Justice for All, A Soldier’s Story, Agnes of God, Moonstruck (which screened last night), In Country, and The Hurricane to name a few.

The director was being honored with the King Vidor Award, and so Hollywood luminaries such as Academy Award-winning film editor Neil Travis (who later acted as MC at the Jewison Tribute) and actress Jane Lynch (the willowy blonde favorite of satirist director Christopher Guest) were in attendance, It was certainly crowded with film buffs, fans, and well wishers at the wine reception. The little pizza thingies were excellent, and Lynch was seen munching them down with abandon, at one point chatting up Buona Tavola server Laura Sanchez. Maybe Lynch is just a down-to-earth gal who likes to talk to the hired help, or maybe she was chatting up Sanchez to keep her from distributing those delicious snacks.

About 7 p.m. or so, the crowd milled its way over to The Fremont Theater. Sadly, it wasn’t a full house. I can’t imagine why. Jewison is one of our great directors. Sure, he made that horrible Sylvester Stallone trucker movie F.I.S.T., but most of his films were winners … or at least cult classics (Rollerball, anyone?). I happened to ask Norman (we’re on a first name basis now, natch) if F.I.S.T. was his biggest failure, but he said, no, that it had some “nice moments” in it. He named The Art of Love as his worst.

“That one missed completely,” said the diminutive bearded director. “Carl Reiner and I thought it was the funniest thing. We thought it was hilarious!”

Unfortunately, Norman and Carl (hey, any friend of Norman’s is a friend of Carl, so I’m on a first name basis with him too) were alone in that assessment. Norm said The Cincinnati Kid was his breakout film, the one “that turned my life around.”

At the tribute after a series of clips from his films, Jewison was invited on stage to accept the King Vidor Award. (Babe actor James Cromwell will received the award on Saturday). Jewison followed with a short speech, then Jane Lynch came up to read some tributes to Jewison by Hollywood friends who couldn’t attend the event. After that, Lynch, Jewison, and Neil Travis sat down for a chat, and it turns out Norm is a pretty funny guy. He recalled when he was asked to direct Fiddler on the Roof: “I thought, Oh my God, they think I’m Jewish!” For the record, Norm is a nice Methodist boy from Canada, where he still lives and works his Toronto farm, tapping his own maple trees for syrup. Now that’s Canadian!

He also recalled his first taste of American racism during a bus ride in the South. He got on the bus (he was wearing his Canadian Navy uniform), and walked to the back because it was hot and the windows were open back there. The bus driver saw him in the rearview mirror and said, “Are you trying to be funny, sailor?” “‘No,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t trying to be funny.’ Then I noticed a little sign hanging from the ceiling that said coloreds must sit in back. It was a hand-painted sign on a piece of tin. So I said to the driver, ‘Well, I guess I’ll get off the bus.’” The crowd in the Fremont began to clap, and it soon became clear that the theme of racism that Jewison visited in In the Heat of the Night, A Soldier’s Story, and The Hurricane came from this incident. This guy’s a class act.

Okay, I gotta wrap this up and get to the 3-D screening of It Came From Outer Space. See you at the movies.

The SLO Film Fest gets, like, totally barreled, dude!

Former SLO Town resident turned surf impresario turned Surfer Magazine Editor turned filmmaker Sam George packed screen one of The Palm Theater last night for his newest film, Pipeline Masters. It was standing room only—literally. I know because I stood for nearly two freaking hours, but so did George, who wrote and narrated the film, as well as half a dozen other brave, strong-legged souls. It was worth the pain. The film chronicles the famed North Shore Hawaiian break from its discovery by ‘60s-era surfers who first labeled it unrideable, through its infancy as a makeable wave and then to the shortboard revolution, which finally offered the kind of equipment necessary to really perform on the barreling monster.

Like Riding Giants, a film George co-wrote that was a huge hit at last year’s SLO Film Fest, Pipeline Masters is a compelling film because of the inherent drama of surfing a deadly break mixed with the colorful personalities involved in its history. The film chronicles the annual contest that is part and parcel of the break, beginning with the 1971 inaugural event—which ironically Gerry Lopez, the best pipe rider of the era (and perhaps any era), missed. Because the surf was less than stellar, Lopez thought the event was called off. In his stead, a California surfer named Mike Armstrong, who just happened to be out surfing the break that morning, was elected to be the sixth competitor. The film doesn’t mention it, but Armstrong lives on the Central Coast; he owns an avocado ranch in Cayucos.

The film looks at the most noteworthy contests from ’71 on because, as George himself said during the Q&A after the film, even he wouldn’t want to sit through the entire 36-year history of the contest. And speaking of George, who managed the old Surf and Wear surf shop located behind Korbs Trading post in the’80s (where Downtown Centre stands now, young whippersnappers), he hasn’t aged a day. Still fit as a fiddle, with only his blond locks gone gray to hint that he’s in his 40s. George was somewhat of a controversial figure in SLO County. He and his brother Matt were shameless and adept self-promoters, wore colorful wetsuits, and while surfing swiveled their hips a bit too much for the born-and-bred locals. During the opening night party, I actually overheard one of the attendees, an aging surfer himself, tell a female guest that George wasn’t much liked around these parts. If so, you certainly couldn’t tell by the huge, appreciative crowd at the screening.

As George and company left The Palm for an after screening reception at Tortilla Flats, character actor, rock drummer, and filmmaker Mickey Jones was ushered past the waiting crowd and into the theater, where his documentary of a ‘60s-era Bob Dylan tour was to be screened. Jones was Dylan’s drummer at the time, and the film was comprised of his home movies.

As Jones came in, he stopped to chat with Palm Theater owner Jim Dee before posing for a group photo with Terry and Paul Lichtman. Terry was Jones’ former agent, and the Lichtmans were instrumental in bring Jones to the festival. For the record, Jones is a laidback, mellow guy, even though he looks like a badass biker.

The crowd loved his Dylan film as well as a short he directed of himself and Billy Bob Thornton as a couple of cowboys talking about finding their inner child. If you haven’t considered seeing some of the festival’s short films, start considering. There are some real gems out there.

Tonight is the Norman Jewison reception and the screening of his film Moonstruck, starring Cher, at the Fremont. It promises to be another great event for the SLO International Film Festival, so get out there and go to the movies!

Rocking the opening night party!

The stars were out last night (Thursday, March 1st) in San Luis Obispo for the opening of the SLO International Film Festival. The 11-day festival kicked off with a party for sponsors, board members, special guests, and assorted riff-raff (you have no idea what a forged press pass and a little swagger will get you … free wine and delicious shrimp cocktail, for instance).
The guest of honor was Fred Koenekamp, an award-winning cinematographer whose film Patton was shown last night at The Palm. I skipped the film because, frankly, at nearly three hours it’s too long, plus, who wants to see George C. Scott strutting around like a peacock with a Howitzer up his ass for 170 minutes? Not me. I’d have rather the festival had shown one of Koenekamp’s other masterpieces, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, the Russ Meyer-directed Roger Ebert-written camp classic. Now that’s entertainment!

Still, the opening night party was a helluva lot of fun, and Mr. Koenekamp, a tall, distinguished fellow seemed to be enjoying the attention. He certainly deserved it. In addition to his feature film work on classic flicks like Billy Jack, Towering Inferno, and Papillon, he also worked on some of my favorite TV shows like Kung Fu and The Man from U.N.C.L.E. The guy’s had a cool career.

He was holding court at a table surrounded by women, and at first I chalked that up to the silver fox effect: wealthy, good looking Hollywood elite, who at 84 still could charm the miniskirt off a starlet, but it turns out these babes were three generations of Koenekamps, his wife Jan, daughter Dona Griswold, and granddaughter Randi Griswold, who looks like she should have starred on The O.C. Hubba-hubba! Naturally Festival Director Wendy Eidson was flitting about, making sure the right people were meeting and greeting.

The highlight of the party was festival board member Paul Karlen, who dressed as a Nazi officer in deference to the screening of Patton. While hobnobbing with man-about-town Pierre Rademaker (who’s like Zelig—always turning up at important events), Karlen quipped that it was lucky the party was upstairs since his costume might have led to speculation that Mother’s had become a gay bar. Me likely the par-tay!

So, it seems clear the festival is off to a great start. I think I’ll hit the screening of the Pipe Masters at 5 p.m., maybe stay for the Mickey Jones flicks. Jones was Bob Dylan’s drummer in the ‘60s, and he put together a film of his home movies taken during a Dylan tour. He’s also screening a film he directed, The Last Cowboys, a hilarious philosophical discussion between two lonely cowboys (Jones and Billy Bob Thorton) out on the range and talking about reconnecting with their inner child. Funny stuff, believe me. After that, an Academy Award-winning short that features Jones as a Hell’s Angel-type biker will be screened at 9. Called My Mother Dreams of Satan’s Disciples in New York City, this 30-minute film is about the awakening of a sheltered old woman who visits her daughter in dangerous NYC. If you’re more in the mood for classic spy fare, the festival is screening the James Bond classic From Russia With Love, with Danny Biederman, a spy film and gadget expert. See you at the movies!