Beyond the Multiplex

The 10 buzziest films out of Tribeca. Plus: An interview/podcast with Guy Maddin about his latest film, a debauched melodrama that will invade your dreams.

By Andrew O'Hehir

Read more: Andrew O'Hehir, Movies, Movie Reviews, Arts & Entertainment, Independent Film, Reviews, Beyond the Multiplex, Tribeca Film Festival

Clockwise from top left, scenes from "This Is England," "Still Life," "Golden Door," "Times and Winds," "In Search of a Midnight Kiss" and "Live"

May 10, 2007 | Just the other day, at a New York critics' screening of the zombie sequel "28 Weeks Later" (great first half, set in an allegedly zombie-free Britain under American military occupation; tedious and clichéd second half), I overheard a conversation among three young, hipsterish, clearly intelligent movie-biz guys. They weren't talking about the movie we were about to see, or about anything else they had actually liked. They were talking about whether there's another "Little Miss Sunshine" somewhere in the indie pipeline. (Consensus: "Waitress" is likable, but doesn't quite cut it as crossover hit.)

Thing is, I've had those conversations myself. With the madness of Tribeca just concluded and the madness of Cannes just around the corner -- I'll be there by this time next week, laptop balanced on my knee as I air-kiss Brangelina, talk philosophy with Béla Tarr and taste-test last year's rosé (it's a tough job, etc.) -- and a daunting thicket of new releases every week, it can be seductive to think of film as nothing more than a commodity, designed for a mass market or niche market, as the case may be. It's always like that with artistic or cultural works in the marketplace. Old Master paintings were commodities (and are even more so now). So were Fellini's films, and so is "Spider-Man 3."

Sure, movies are supposed to affect us in some way -- excite us, challenge us, evoke some subjective or objective reality, awaken a chain of associations -- but so is designer clothing or a BMW or that fine 2005 Bandol everybody was drinking at Cannes last year. If you'll pardon the phrase, there is always a complicated dialectical relationship between aesthetic and commercial value in our society; they can't be decoupled. An art-house movie with some degree of mass appeal, whether it's "Little Miss Sunshine" or "Caché" or "Pan's Labyrinth," will always seem "hotter" than the works of Tarr or Philippe Garrel or Carlos Reygadas, screened for tiny audiences of rumpled cinephiles.

Marxist economic theory aside, I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't believe that "art," however you define it, performs some indefinable, probably indefensible and possibly spiritual function within the realm of human commerce: It repurposes ancient myths, captures the lost past, imagines impossible futures, distills our experience into shared symbols. This week, while en route to the marketplace hysteria and unbounded snobbery of Cannes, I'm delighted to have two really excellent and completely different films to focus on (both with limited commercial potential). One is an utterly realistic, almost clinical, depiction of an American suicide bomber; the other is a fanciful, fantastic reconstruction of childhood, loaded with Freudian imagery. Both are powerful and intimate experiences that will invade your dreams.

Before we get to those, let's conflate aesthetic and commercial value just a little more. I won't pretend I can summarize the lumpy, hit-and-miss mass of films that premiered at Tribeca (which only concluded last weekend). What I can do is render a subjective list of 10 new films that emerged from the festival with heightened buzz, either among the movie world's commodity traders, its grimy-spectacled cinema buffs, or both. A few of these (I'm listing them in alphabetical order) will be reaching theaters near you promptly. Others may take six months or longer to tiptoe into the market; some may resurface in your Netflix queue without warning.

"Chávez" Tribeca is always a strong documentary festival, and here was one of this year's surprises. No, this is not about Venezuela's controversial president (although that's a good idea). Instead, Mexican actor Diego Luna ("Y Tu Mamá También") has made a compelling, impressionistic study of the boxer Julio César Chávez, a quasi-legendary hero in their shared country. Its appeal to Latino audiences and boxing fans should guarantee release. (At this writing, still not acquired for distribution.)

"Golden Door" This rapturous, strange and eye-popping spectacle from director Emanuele Crialese ("Respiro") might be the most memorable Italian film of recent years. It's nominally a fable about 19th-century Sicilian immigration, with all the shipboard and Ellis Island scenes you'd expect -- but that's a misleading description for a film that's primarily a visual, auditory and even architectural experience. Vincenzo Amato and Charlotte Gainsbourg are very good in a central love story of sorts, but everything about the plot is symbolic or enigmatic (which will no doubt frustrate some viewers). A defiantly idiosyncratic film that summons the spirits of great Italian directors long past. (Opens May 25 in major cities, with wider release to follow.)

"In Search of a Midnight Kiss" I'm including Alex Holdridge's black-and-white romantic comedy, which follows its young protagonists on a New Year's Eve blind date through the streets of Los Angeles, even though I haven't seen it. Word-of-mouth has been nothing short of sensational, and despite its total lack of recognizable names, this movie has been better reviewed than any of the marquee American films at Tribeca. (Still not acquired.)

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