Beyond the Multiplex

Opening weekend at the Austin filmfest offers a controversial documentary about (not by) Michael Moore, an outrageous horror-comedy by Alan Cumming and a few Tarantino impersonations.

By Andrew O'Hehir

Read more: Andrew O'Hehir, Michael Moore, Thriller, Movies, Austin, Horror, Movie Reviews, Arts & Entertainment, Quentin Tarantino, Independent Film, Reviews, Robert Rodriguez, South by Southwest, Beyond the Multiplex

Michael Moore, subject of the documentary "Manufacturing Dissent"

March 12, 2007 | AUSTIN, Texas -- A few hours after I got here, I walked past some independent filmmaker (I have no idea who) doing a stand-up interview with a local TV crew outside a billiards hall on East Sixth Street, amid the young and well-scrubbed crowds of Austin's nightclub district. "You know, everybody tries to get into Sundance," he was saying into the blinding light. "But the whole time, we were kind of secretly hoping we'd get to come here. That's how it works."

That is in fact how it works. My unknown friend with the unknown film might have had a better short-term commercial future at Sundance (although that's far from a sure thing), but as far as festival quality-of-life issues go, he's in the right place. The South by Southwest Film Festival can't compare with Sundance as an acquisitions marketplace or a high-profile showcase for new movies. Even claiming that SXSW has the countercultural cachet that Sundance once possessed is misleading, because no single event or institution can wield that kind of cultural power in today's fragmented media environment. But it's a pile of fun, and whatever people say about Sundance, they don't say that.

Opening weekend at SXSW 2007 has been a cheerful and eclectic mixture of semimajor premieres and utterly unknown films, some of which may never play anywhere else. We've seen a crisp and engrossing thriller from writer-director Scott Frank, just a little too stark and dark to be a Hollywood film, on opening night. We've seen an awkward, immediately controversial film about (not by) Michael Moore, which struggles, with intermittent success, to yank the facade off the media superstar.

We've had a whimsical documentary about the world of balloon twisting, narrated by Jon Stewart, and I guess it doesn't get any more made-for-SXSW than that. (Except maybe for the inspirational documentary about the world of inner-city competitive jump-roping.) Protean Scottish actor-director Alan Cumming has premiered his new film, an outrageous horror-comedy carefully designed to offend the entire population of the planet. Then, on Sunday morning, there was church. Or at least there was filmmaker Robert Rodriguez and Ain't It Cool News founder Harry Jay Knowles leading a reverent lecture-demonstration about "grindhouse" cinema and, of course, about "Grindhouse," Rodriguez's new anthology feature made with Quentin Tarantino -- which was as close as most SXSW attendees got to religion this weekend.

As this festival crawls incrementally closer to mainstream significance (it's already an important venue for documentaries and horror films), it hasn't lost the relaxed vibe, the warm and supportive audiences and the unjaded mode of alt-enthusiasm that represent this city at its finest. People don't bring their low-budget movies to SXSW believing they'll be struck by lightning and rendered into insta-celebrities. But they can be pretty confident they'll have a swell time, overestimate their tolerance for tequila-based beverages and wind up on a patio somewhere at 2 a.m. talking earnestly to some brand-new friends, some of whom, at some point, might actually be able to help them.

For frozen Northerners like me, it's worth coming here in March just for daytime highs in the 70s and 80s, the early-season wildflowers and those flocks of slightly ominous boat-tailed, ravenlike birds who sing so melodiously at dusk. (Hey Texans, what are those things? Grackles?) Then there's the chance to catch a few movies at the Alamo Drafthouse mini-chain, where you can consume excellent beer and decent Tex-Mex cooking at your seat, and compared with which every movie theater in New York should basically be blown up.

As far as what's actually showing on those screens, SXSW is always a defiantly mixed bag. Nothing was more fun this weekend than the movie we didn't get to see. Rodriguez showed us a splatter-laden zombie car chase from "Terror Planet," the faux-'70s exploitation pic that makes up his half of "Grindhouse," and I for one found it completely irresistible. Those who believe that retro-cultural concoctions like "Grindhouse" are ironic, or even campy, are missing the point. As Rodriguez and Knowles made clear, they're geeks' geeks, and their affection -- nay, their adoration -- for the high-concept trash cinema of another age is completely genuine.

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