PROBLEMISTA: MORE FAIRY TALES PLEASE!

 I have just finished watching what I can only describe as one of the most charming, funniest, moving and utterly delightful movies I've seen this year.  Salvadoreños actor, writer, stand-up comic and now director, Julio Torres knocks his debut feature film straight out of the park. 

I had only read one review, by someone who attended the premiere at the San Diego Latino Film Festival began his review: "The crowd loved it . . . I hated it," before launching into every minute detail that made him feel this way.  These included Torres' face, Torres' walk, Torres' voice, the character Torres played . . . and extended to co-star Tilda Swinton "a little of her goes a long way" the very premise and look of the film.  He also takes a major swing at the narration by Isabella Rossellini ("annoying") claiming it doesn't make sense to use her as the film is critical of nepotism in the arts and Rossellini "is a nepo baby."  WTF?  I became even more anxious and excited to see what could provoke this off the hook level of hatred toward a movie. 

Having now seen it, I feel compelled to make the assumption this guy is a homophobic racist, a bigot, a gung-ho Nationalist "Go Capitalism" sorta guy . . . you know . . . like a Trump supporter (yeah, I went there).  

The narrative begins in El Salvador where the child Alejandro lives with his artist mother who creates a magical world for him to live in, with bright CInderella castles but also a dangerously dark cave with a spooky red-eyed monster. Alejandro has a dream and we flash forward to present day Manhattan where, on a limited visa, he tries to land a job at Hasbro to become a great inventor of toys. He's taken a job at a cryogenic facility that works only with dead artists, and after a mishap involving the accidental unplugging of a cord he is dismissed and with only 30 days left to find a sponsor to remain in the country, has a fateful intervention with Elizabeth, the widow of an artist (played in flashbacks by RZA) who employs him (sort of) to help her find her husband's paintings and curate a show for a major gallery.   

As Elizabeth, Tilda Swinton gives one of her strangest, most magnificently fierce performances: a harpy, a "hydra" and the red-eyed monster of Alejandro's fairy tales. We encounter the disastrous attempts of the pair to collect the paintings, deal with the real world both Elizabeth's and Alejandro's.  

Alejandro is an odd duck. Always fearful but with a blank almost smile on his face to hide his feelings his anxiety with the world becomes manifest in his speech and his very (very) peculiar way of walking. It's kind of an ancient Geisha-style walk that seems as if his legs were tied together at the knees. He kind of glides everywhere.  I know this irritated not just that one critic but others yet it entirely endeared me to this kid to the point where I thought, "I could adopt a kid like Alejandro."  I'm not kidding.  

Torres makes clear in statements (which I read afterwards) that Problemista contains a good dose of autobiographically based anecdotes of his experience as an immigrant in the U.S.  We witness very real problems with a housing crisis, racism, the ramifications and pseudo-violence of financial insecurity and (thank you Bank of America!) job instability in the form of thankless jobs and sex work from Craig's List all among the the myriad hoops of the immigrant experience many if not all encounter.  These difficulties are made manifest in brilliantly filmed vignettes of Alejandro crawling up into, across, and out of an M.C. Escher-inspired nightmare that . . . well it just works. Trust me.  

I won't go into further story details . . .but the fantasy and fairy tale elements, both dark and comical provide a surreal vista for this absolutely magical tale. 

All of the technical and artistic elements collide and combine in the most beautiful surrealist and sometimes mystical ways. Robert Ouyang Rusli's score is appropriately atmospheric, Fredrik Wenzel's cinematography is brilliant in every frame, the set design which features a   

I'm seeing now reviews have been decidedly mixed with polarization of "loved it" and "hated it" . . . so it's "one of those."  Personally, I can't wait to watch it again.

Wes Anderson's Beautiful Moonrise Kingdom

I just finished watching Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom, which is, hands down, one of the most whimsical, magical films I've encountered in many moons. An Anderson fan, I hesitated to see this when it was released as mixed reviews (which usually happens in Anderson films anyway) many discounting it as "a series of poses and postures" often singling out the "awful" acting of the two leads discouraged me. Well, I was a silly goose, and those critics, as earnest as they may have been, couldn't have been more wrong in describing this thing if they'd tried.

The leading couple, Sam (Jared Gilman) and Suzy (Kara Hayward) are a pair of emotionally challenged 12 year olds who fall in love during a performance of Britten's Noye's Fludde. I couldn't imagine either role cast better than here, nor more nuanced performances coaxed by a director who actually "gets" kids - particularly troubled ones. The story begins when Sam, a highly decorated, though not well liked cadet Sam flees the confines of Camp Ivanhoe and his Khaki Troop (think Boy Scouts of America) to run away with unpredictable and misunderstood Suzy. Their inventory for survival includes a kitten in a basket (with accompanying cans of gourmet cat food), a battery operated record player and a suitcase full of stolen library books. My kind of kids. Living on a remote island (about to be hit by the storm of the century) they can't really escape far . . . or can they? Through (several) ensuing chases, unsuccessful captures, and re-escapes the story grows exponentially, layer by layer as it introduces us to the foibles, quirks and ticks of the residents as our Island Romeo and Juliet explore their burgeoning sexuality (all tastefully within the confines of its PG-13 rating).


Speaking of Noye's Fludde, Anderson had me from the start, as any movie that bookends its opening and closing scenes with Britten's Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra, has already got plenty going for it! And Britten's music (in addition to large chunks of Noye) looms large throughout, as does that of Schubert (An die Musick), Mozart (Cosi's Soave sia il vento) Saint Saëns (Carnival of the Animals) and Hank Williams. So, too, does the score by composer Alexandre Desplat who pays tribute to Britten (remarkably directly in the closing credits, where his own "Guide to the Orchestra" is narrated by the film's hero). Rarely does one find film music these days that is this integrally bound to the storytelling that it's virtually impossible to imagine the story without it.

Anderson sets his tale circa 1965 on the fictional New England island of New Penzance. The nod to Gilbert and Sullivan is here more dramatic than musical, but nonetheless unmistakable. The parallels between Moonrise's young Sam, and Pirates' Frederic are plentiful. While entirely original, Moonrise nonetheless feels punctuated throughout as it evokes gauze-covered memories of other things. It was constantly conjuring fleeting instances causing my mind to race to discover connections between it and Romeo and Juliet, The Tempest, The Keystone Cops, Lord of the Flies, and more. Robert D. Yeoman's remarkably nuanced cinematography makes every frame look like a page from an old family photo album, capturing summer camp, skinned knees and emotional secrets barely covered through veils of thin smiles. Moonrise Kingdom, indeed.

Though Sam and Suzy are the heart of the film, Moonrise is truly an ensemble piece and Anderson is able to evoke marvelous, sometimes larger than life, performances from an inspired cast of Bruce Willis, Edward Norton, Bill Murray, Frances McDormand, Tilda Swinton, Jason Schwartzman, Harvey Keitel and Bob Baliban (who serves as narrator/Greek Chorus), and all of whom create the believable, quirky, characters who populate this magical island town.

In my estimation critics who found this "stifling" simply are never going to like films made by the likes of Mr. Anderson, directors who essentially eschew The Hollywood Way, as they put out beautiful, boutique films for small audiences willing (or wishing) to escape into the fantastic worlds they've created for us. For those not willing to do so, I suppose these films really can be, as one critic described Moonrise "a long, dull exercise in alternative comedy." For the rest of us . . . it's a dream.