THE GREAT GATSBY - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Have you ever witnessed the results of a coat-hanger abortion? You haven't? Then look no further than the abomination that is Baz Luhrmann's latest hack job.

I know you have anal fissures my dear.
I'll be gentle with the butt plug tonight.

The Great Gatsby (2013)
NO STARS LOW ENOUGH, BUT I HAPPILY BESTOW 1 (ONE) PUBIC HAIR UPON IT
Dir. Baz Luhrmann
Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire, Carey Mulligan, Joel Edgerton, Isla Fisher, Jason Clarke, Amitabh Bachchan

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Have you seen Scary Movie 5? No? Well get thee to a multiplex pronto. I can promise you a far more edifying experience than suffering through Baz Luhrmann's rectal drippings masquerading as a movie. If Luhrmann had wanted to do a greater disservice to F. Scott Fitzgerald than miserably adapting The Great Gatsby, he'd have been better off digging up Zelda Fitzgerald's corpse and penetrating her withered maggot-lubed anus, whilst having the whole unsightly affair videotaped and posted to YouTube.

This is the sort of movie I get no pleasure in writing about. It's so awful, I'm not even inspired to expose its failings with humour. (Terence Malick's kind of stolen that crown anyway.) Luhrmann's Gatsby is unequivocally the nadir of his rancid career - one in which he's crapped out a canon that represents one smelly nadir after another (each one resplendent with pieces of undigested niblets of corn). This utter abomination is so reprehensible you wish to God there was some way to wash the sheer filth of it from your memory banks, but alas, I suspect that even a lobotomy would do little to relieve the memory of one of the worst movies ever made. Hell, it might even be the absolute worst ever made - at least, one supposes, until Luhrmann's next film.

1949 yielded great performances from Alan Ladd and Shelley Winters, whilst 1974 yielded a great supporting cast. Both had dreadful Daisy Buchanans.

Fitzgerald's novel has been tempting filmmakers forever, but only three (not including a silent 1928 version) have made the plunge and not one of them qualifies as a successful effort. That said, even the deeply flawed 1949 and 1974 versions are veritable masterworks when stacked up against Luhrmann's risible rusty-coat-hanger abortion. The '49 Gatsby, directed with little panache, but a modicum of competence by Elliot Nugent has a few things going for it. Performance-wise it features a great Myrtle played by Shelley Winters, which is, without question, the best rendering of Tom Buchanan's doomed lover to date. It also has the best Gatsby - bar none - the immortal Alan Ladd. And in spite of Nugent's mostly lacklustre direction, Gatsby's murder is the most harrowingly rendered of all of them. Still, one wonders what the studio was thinking when they assigned this film to a director whose biggest picture had been My Favorite Brunette starring Bob Hope.

The bloated 1974 version has an almost perfect supporting cast - notably Sam Waterston's Nick Carraway, the great Bruce Dern as Tom, Karen Black a close second to Winters's indelible portrait of Myrtle and Scott Wilson who delivers a heartbreaking performance as Blanche's long suffering husband and killer of Gatsby. Robert Redford looks right as Gatsby, but he's almost always trying too hard to be multidimensional. Both the '49 and '74 versions have dreadful Daisy Buchanans in the form of Betty Field and Mia Farrow respectively, but one might as well call them perfect compared to the horrid simp Luhrmann cast.

On the surface, The Great Gatsby as a novel has a lot going for it to make a good if not great picture. Its narrative, at least on the surface, is straightforward as all get out with finely detailed characters, a great Tragic Hero and any number of thematic elements evocative of the 20s that have universal resonance. In each case, however, too much conspired against Fitzgerald's novel to yield a genuinely good picture. Nugent was ultimately a lower drawer studio hack and as such the wrong director for the '49 version. As for the '74 picture, the otherwise phenomenal Jack Clayton (he directed Deborah Kerr in the best Henry James film adaptation of all time, The Innocents) seems weighted down by the bloat force of the insanely opulent production.

And Baz Luhrmann?

Well, he is, quite simply, a dolt.

Is Borat here? I need some learnings.

Nothing works in Gatsby 2013. DiCaprio had everything going for him to knock the ball out of the park, but lacking a director and forced to act with a supporting cast lacking chemistry and charisma to connect with him on even the most rudimentary level (save for the brilliant Amitabh Bachchan as Meyer Wolfsheim), poor Leo is doomed to a fate almost as bad as anal penetration with a red hot poker. Tobey Maguire was a genuinely fine Peter Parker/Spider-Man for Sam Raimi, but here his boyish voice is so castrato-like that Nick Carraway becomes intolerable to pay any attention to. Joel Edgerton has done great work in the past, particularly in Animal Kingdom and Zero Dark Thirty, but his Tom Buchanan borders on the idiotic as he inexplicably slips in and out of a Clark Gable impersonation. Isla Fisher is thoroughly inadequate as Myrtle as is Jason Clarke as her Gatsby-whacking hubby.

Can someone skull fuck me in the eyes?
They're so...moist.

But now, as bad as the aforementioned cast is, let's take special care to heap a truckload or two of dung on the horridly simp-like Carey Mulligan who's one of these actresses who can seldom keep her mouth closed even when she has no lines. It's amazing more flies don't zoom into her maw when she's on-set. Worst of all, she's always dewy eyed - not just here, but in every revolting performance she delivers - most offensively in the ghastly Drive. Yes, Carey, we know you can always be on the verge of tears, but you're so annoying watery-eyed, we all - no doubt - wish to have a turn at smashing you one in the face and then utter the following with contempt: "NOW you DO have something to cry about."

Then again, it's Luhrmann's fault for casting her and we already know he makes the average gibbon seem like a Rhodes Scholar.

His purported style is frustratingly opulent. Luhrmann's offensive over-the-top music video approach is equal to that of an ice cream cone with rainbow coloured sprinkles dipped in arsenic and LSD. None of it makes any sense and never captures what should be the genuine melancholia that seeps from the pores of the rich and empty, so indelibly wrought by Mr. Fitzgerald. It's hallucinogenic and deadly in one fell swoop. His idiotic blending of contemporary music with a few period pieces is so all over the map that it feels like he couldn't completely commit to pulling a Sofia Coppola a la Marie Antoinette and the reason for this is simple - he has no genuine vision, he has nothing to say and, allow me to remind you, he is a dolt of the highest order.

He's no filmmaker. He's a nincompoop.

And his movie is not only a wretched mess, but also a deathly dull, horrendously inert and reprehensibly stupid experience.

"The Great Gatsby" is in wide release from Warner Bros, but I do genuinely re-assert that your money will be better spent at "Scary Movie 5", a risible bomb, but at least its honest about its mental retardation. It's also in 3-D. Why? Beats me. It looks as bad, if not worse than most contemporary 3-D movies.


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ROOM 237 - Review By Greg Klymkiw - COOL KUBRICK CONSPIRACY Theories in Feature Documentary

Room 237 (2012) ***1/2
TIFF 2012 - Vanguard Series
dir. Rodney Ascher
Starring: Bill Blakemore, Geoffrey Cocks, Juli Kearns, John Fell Ryan, Jay Weidner

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Cineastes and those who follow conspiracy theorists have a lot of things in common. They're obsessive, slavishly devotional and frankly, almost fanatical in studying, appreciating and relentlessly imbibing in their respective fields of interest. Can their paths cross? You bet. I know. I am one of the afflicted (or blessed, depending on how you choose to look at it).

The engaging new documentary feature entitled Room 237 blends both cine-mania with conspiracy theory. Chances are, if you're a movie geek, you'll already understand the significance of this title and if you aren't, nor have you seen Stanley Kubrick's crazily scary, creepy and hypnotic film adaptation of Stephen King's The Shining, then let's just say it refers to a room in an isolated old hotel where something very, very horrific happened (and likely will again).

Using a treasure trove of clips and stills from Kubrick's canon, director Rodney Ascher interviews five people who have spent an unhealthy number of their waking hours (over an ever MORE unhealthy number of years) studying and dissecting the hidden meanings they purport are found buried within The Shining. Ascher's picture is not a traditional making-of documentary or even a critical appreciation in the usual sense. Instead, we examine each one of the subjects' theories.

All of them believe Kubrick used subliminal messages in the film and generated a high-profile horror movie to act as a mere foreground mask for its real meaning.

The most outrageous conspiracy theory presented in Room 237 is that Kubrick stuffed The Shining with numerous secret messages he hoped would work as both an apology and cinematic form of redemption to make up for the overwhelming guilt he carried for his part in faking all the Apollo Moon landings.

Say what?

Yes, Kubrick's filmmaking genius was contracted by the American government to fake the historic trips to the Moon. If, according to the conspiracy theorist, you look really hard, everything anyone would need to prove this is on-screen in The Shining.

Good to know.

In all fairness, those interviewed for Ascher's film spend a fair bit of time discussing Kubrick's obsessive attention to the most minute details of every inch, of every frame, of every shot. This is indisputable. Kubrick was indeed a meticulous control freak and he no doubt included numerous subliminal (or not so subliminal) images to bolster the drama, themes and/or style of his films.

I have some doubts, however, that The Shining is an apology to the world for faking the entire Apollo moon programme. So too should you, lest, of course you're planning to check yourself in for some electro-shock therapy. (Something my late barber, Bill Sciak did for many years. Not because he was insane, but because he enjoyed getting regularly zapped.)

Some of the other theories are definitely fruit-loopy, but those which suggest Holocaust allegory or the effects of colonization upon America's indigenous peoples are certainly not without interest. For me, though, the most intriguing presentation involves Kubrick playing with the space and time of his own sets by intentionally making sure the designs - and one room in particular - could not logically exist within the architectural setting of the Overlook Hotel.

This theory is kind of cool as it feels like the kind of perverse filmmaking trick Kubrick might use to help generate an overall sense of unease. The interviewee in question comes across as completely bonkers, but in spite of this, it provides considerable food for thought.

What I really appreciated about Rodney Ascher's approach to this material is that he himself never makes fun of these people. His entire mise-en-scène is quite clever. The interviewees never appear on camera - only in voice-over. The images are virtually all Kubrick all the time. They're used to tell the interviewees' stories and to provide as much visual evidence as possible to bolster the theories. Yes, Ascher uses the footage to occasionally buoy the film with a sense of humour, but it's never mean-spirited and it's often clever and in and of itself, a definite homage to Kubrick.

The movie will also make you think twice about Calumet Baking Soda.

(I'll let you discover that nugget on your own.)

As I mentioned earlier, movies and conspiracy theory can be ideal bedfellows.

For me, my appreciation of conspiracy theory almost parallels my obsession with movies. It began in the 1960s, not long after experiencing a series of near-epiphanies upon first seeing films like 2001: A Space Odyssey, Planet of the Apes, Mario Bava's Black Sunday, Hammer Horror films, Sergio Leone westerns and Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch. Movies not only became my whole life, they were, in fact, my life force.

At this time I read Erich von Daniken's "Chariots of the Gods", the first of a series of best selling "non-fiction" books that popularized the notion that extraterrestrials had been to Earth in our deep, dark past and were responsible for mankind's development. This wasn't classic conspiracy theory per se, but it was one of the first times I became enamoured with postulations that refuted traditional ways of thinking about the world. Not that von Daniken's theories were especially original - many of them had already been identified by other scientists (including Carl Sagan who had little use for the Swiss author's interpretations). His theories, to my child's minds eye, we forcefully and punchily conveyed.

Tellingly, my childhood fascination with von Daniken clearly sprouted from the magic of movies - most notably, Kubrick. The monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey did a damn fine job transforming me into a true believer in extraterrestrial visitations in earlier eras of Earth's existence.

Erich von Daniken (Top Left), Kurt Saxon (Top Right),
Art Bell (Bottom Left), George Noory (Bottom Right)

Years later, I became obsessed with the world of shortwave radio. Shortwave had always been an acquired taste - a niche market, if you will. I had been introduced to shortwave as a child by my influential cousin Paul Klymkiw the subject of the bestselling non-fiction book "Paul in Perspective and brother of Slawko Klymkiw, former head of CBC English Programming and current Executive Director of Norman Jewison's Canadian Film Centre. Paul was an avid listener of "Radio Free Cuba" and we'd listen to it late into the night. He even showed me all the excellent literature he sent away for and received at his parents' home (and this, during the Cold War). I, of course, followed suit and also received this fine communist literature.

God only knows how many watch lists we're on, but to this day I'm still obsessed with all things shortwave. In the pre-internet days of the 1990s, shortwave had especially become the haven for a wide variety of nut cases and it was here where my loyal listenership to it blossomed.

I was drawn to it like a fly to the proverbial dung heap.

Every manner of conspiracy theorist, right wing religious psycho and, allow me to add, heavy metal Christian Rockers managed to find a home on these oddball airwaves. It was here where I discovered one of the great conspiracy theorists of them all, the extremely entertaining Kurt Saxon, a survivalist based in Alpena, Arkansas. "Just let them Federal Boys try and find us here in these backwoods," was a common Saxon refrain.

Though Kurt's ruminations on impending social/economic collapse proved both sound and prescient, his theories regarding Eugenics were, shall we say, a tad too extreme for a reasonably tempered right-wing Communist and dyed-in-the-wool pseudo-Liberterian like myself.

The late 90s and beyond delivered the highest-rated talk radio in the world: "Coast-to-Coast-A.M." with the master of all things conspiratorial Art Bell and his eventual and current replacement George Noory.

Through these decades of avowed interest in conspiracy theory, I maintained my obsession with the movies - becoming, as I was once described by some anonymous blogger as, "a quite possibly clinically insane cinephile."

I suspect that with this history, it makes sense to have been positively disposed to a picture like Room 237. That said, it's a genuinely clever, compelling and funny look at one of the best movies of all time.

And that, my friends, is nothing to sneeze globs of blood-flecked snot at.

"Room 237" first premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF 2012) and is currently being released theatrically via Mongrel Media. The film is playing theatrically at the Bloor Hot Docs Cinema and the TIFF Bell Lightbox Theatre.

THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF ROSALIND LEIGH - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Raven Banner's delectable "Sinister Cinema" series returns to Cineplex Entertainment's Front Row Centre Events All Across Canada with "Rue Morgue" founder and publisher Rodrigo Gudiño's feature debut

The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh (2012) ***
Dir. Rodrigo Gudiño
Starring: Aaron Poole, Vanessa Redgrave, Julian Richings

Review By Greg Klymkiw

A voice from the dead - at times determined, at others tremulous - cascades through the large, dark and cluttered house as if it were a living, breathing, moving thing. It is as much a will and testament as it is a warning - infused with portent - rendered for the benefit of one who's been gone for too long, but has now appeared to both claim and dispense with a lifetime of worldly goods.

You, Sir, will spend the night.

Alone.

This is perhaps not the wisest move when, in life, you broke away from your mother for the longest time and have returned, after her death, to profit from an antique-filled treasure trove. You're riddled with memories of a difficult childhood past, a strained relationship, a fundamentalist - nay, downright fanatical upbringing. As much as you want to rid yourself of all the things that bring back flashes of a pain long-repressed, your mere presence in this, your recently deceased mother's house, infuses you with second thoughts, upon second thoughts.

You will slowly seek truth, but if the truth finds you first, it could kill you.

And, dear sir, there appears to be a creature you don't want to mess with.

Suffice it to say that Rue Morgue Magazine's founder/publisher Rodrigo Gudiño has crafted an unexpectedly restrained genre picture for his feature length debut as a director. Restraint in horror can be a very good thing and The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh is nothing if not restrained. Fans used to a preponderance of gore, lightning bolt pacing and an emphasis upon cheap shock tactics will be less than enthralled, but if patient, many of the film's rewards will creep up on them and bite them most indelicately on the ass.

That said and in spite of the picture's considerable virtues, it would only be fair to point out that the film is saddled with a few elements that don't quite gel. In terms of narrative and pace, the film takes a profound dip in its middle portion. We're treated to a slow, measured and riveting first act and a final act that delivers very nicely in the drawer-filling department. Part of the problem stems, I think, in Gudiño's screenplay. Not adequately tying the central character Leon (Aaron Poole) to his late Mother's mania (or at least rooting it more firmly within the mise-en-scene) is something the film has a hard time shaking. This is one of the causes for the movie to sag in its second act.

Another problem is the house itself. An exterior shot reveals a standard and seemingly (or at least relatively) modern suburban home. Once inside, the decor of the structure itself shrieks modern or at least, modern reno. As well, many of the set decorations and props feel out of place - either in and of themselves or within the context of the interior's physical structure and look. Given the character of Rosalind Leigh herself, the "antique pieces" are not (at least for this fella') reflective enough of who we think she is. When Leon steps into that house, we expect, but do not experience the kind of bygone atmosphere necessary for us to check our thought process at the door because the stately and (often) effective pace give us too much time to notice when touches like these are amiss. Where this hurts the film most is that it loses a lot of the "creepy" factor in the middle act that both the pace and narrative are begging for.

A major speed bump that keeps the movie from attaining stratospheric heights might seem unfair to level at Gudiño, since the picture is what it is at this point, but here goes. Maybe it's just me (I don't think so, though), but even genre-bending efforts like this gain a whole lot more mileage when you have the presence of a female lead. A young, hot, preferably nightie-and/or-undie-adorned babe is what I'm talkin' about here. Think Catherine Deneuve in Polanski's Repulsion, the final half hour of Ridley Scott's Alien and a goodly portion of one of my all-time low budget faves, Richard Stanley's Hardware.

Just do the math:

Hot babe + monster/ghost/robot/weird-shit = Unbeatable Combination.

Not that Gudiño's lead Aaron Poole doesn't acquit himself nicely - it's a finely textured performance, but changing the character to a woman and having a babe in the role would have worked wonders. Even when Polanski re-imagined Repulsion as The Tenant and cast himself in the perverse twist on Deneuve's loner in the apartment role, he made damn sure to find numerous opportunities to slide the ravishing Isabel Adjani into the picture (in addition to putting himself in drag).

More math: Polanski in Drag + Hot French babe = DynOmite!!!

Not meaning to be a Philistine here, but I do think something changes when you have a woman in peril - not in a stereotypical, misogynist sense - but to actually address a myriad of issues within the framework of cinematic storytelling that ultimately allow for more compelling viewing. Then again, I always recall the hilarious story of a genuinely famous Canadian producer who once cautioned a young filmmaker about to embark upon his first feature with a litany of Old Country advice. It culminated with: "Goddamn son of bitch, you want to show man too much! Is not to my taste. Is to be truthful, very distasteful to have too much man. But I tell you something for sure, everybody like to see the woman. The man, he like to see the woman. And the woman, she like to see the woman too."

Sage words from a wise member of the Eastern European diaspora.

Aside from my aforementioned niggles, this is a worthwhile effort that signals a directorial talent we'll want to hear more from. In fact, Gudiño's displayed enough filmmaking savvy and chutzpah here to make you grateful you got in on his ground floor, so to speak. On the level of fashioning an ideal low budget movie, the screenplay cleverly approaches a few supporting roles that not only work perfectly within the context of the narrative, but allowed the filmmaking team to affordably cast and get a super performance from Vanessa Redgrave (not to mention fine work from the inimitable Julian Richings and Steven Eric McIntyre among others).

My dissatisfaction with the look of the house and its interiors notwithstanding, I was delighted with cinematographer Samy Inayeh's work. His compositions are first-rate, his moves infused with grace and his lighting is both delectably and suitably moody. Frankly, I think there's a lot of latitude in his footage to go back into the colour timing suite and darken the picture substantially to deal with the less than stellar interior design. Inayeh has done his bit to make the house's interiors look like Miss Haversham's home in David Lean's Great Expectations or the mysterious house the old crone in Val Lewton's Curse of the Cat People lives in, but he's only able to go so far and I'm really convinced one could safely heighten contrast whilst maintaining detail in a John Alton noir style. (By the way, every filmmaker, D.O.P. and production designer needs to read Alton's great book "Painting with Light".)

In any event, get thee hence to a Cineplex Entertainment complex near you and see this sucker on a big screen. It has the potential to look great in all manner of ancillary delivery formats, but it's going to be way more fun seeing it theatrically.

Full info on the Sinister Cinema series from Raven Banner below:

Raven Banner Launches Exciting

Genre Film Series Across Canada

by Greg Klymkiw

Raven Banner, the exciting genre-friendly company that specializes in strategic project management of innovative independent motion pictures is launching an extremely exciting series for genre fans in Canada. Sinister Cinema is a brand new monthly showcase of what promises to be some very cool horror movies. In addition to the movies, there will be a grand sense of showmanship allowing for added value goodies (consider it DVD/Blu-Ray extras - LIVE at Big-Screen venues). Personal appearances, Live Q & A's and exclusive pre-recorded intros plus interviews are just some of the planned delights to enhance the movie-going experience. The movies will screen at 25 Cineplex Entertainment screens across Canada.

The venues are:

Lotus Land
Odeon Victoria Cinemas – Victoria, BC
Galaxy Cinemas Nanaimo – Nanaimo, BC
Colossus Langley Cinemas – Langley, BC
Silvercity Riverport Cinemas – Richmond, BC
Cineplex Odeon International Village Cinemas – Vancouver, BC
(NOTE: Dope Smoking not allowed in cinemas, so toke-up before you enter the premises and/or discreetly utilize the handicapped crappers. Do not forget to disarm smoke detectors and sprinklers.)

Stevie Harper KKK Headquarters
Scotiabank Theatre Edmonton – Edmonton, AB
Scotiabank Theatre Chinook – Calgary, AB
(NOTE: Cross Burnings not allowed indoors. Moonshine not for sale in cinemas, but can be smuggled in.)

Armpit of Canada
Galaxy Cinemas Regina – Regina, SK
Galaxy Cinemas Saskatoon – Saskatoon, SK
(NOTE: You must leave your livestock tethered to the front of the cinemas. Feel free to smuggle in your own smoked hog ears for good eatin' during the show.)

Second Biggest Armpit of Canada
SilverCity Polo Park Cinemas – Winnipeg, MB
(NOTE: The rest of the province is mosquito-ridden swamp land populated by inbreds who do not watch movies or do much of anything besides fight and fornicate in the winter and fish with dynamite charges and big nets in the summer - beer included.)

Centre of the Known Universe (and surrounding environs)
Cineplex Odeon Devonshire Mall Cinemas – Windsor, ON
SilverCity London Cinemas – London, ON
Galaxy Cinemas Waterloo – Waterloo, ON
Cineplex Odeon Winston Churchill Cinemas – Oakville, ON
SilverCity Hamilton Cinemas – Hamilton, ON
Cineplex Cinemas Mississauga – Mississauga, ON
Cineplex Odeon Queensway Cinemas – Toronto, ON
Colossus Vaughan Cinemas – Vaughan, ON
SilverCity Fairview Mall Cinemas – Toronto, ON
Cineplex Odeon Yonge & Dundas Square Cinemas – Toronto, ON
Cineplex Odeon Eglinton Town Centre Cinemas – Scarborough, ON
Coliseum Ottawa Cinemas – Ottawa, ON
SilverCity Gloucester Cinemas – Ottawa, ON
SilverCity Sudbury Cinemas – Sudbury, ON
(NOTE: Torontonians proclaim that Toronto is the Centre of the Known Universe. Most of us know better - especially all the venues OUTSIDE the GTA)

La Belle Province
Cineplex Odeon Forum Cinemas – Montreal, QC
(NOTE: French people do not like horror movies as they are all Catholic. The few who do are politely asked to leave their separatist literature at home and refrain from screaming "Je me souviens!" every ten fucking minutes.)

And now, the movies:

May 9, 2013: Rue Morgue founder and publisher Rodrigo Gudiño's feature debut The Last Will and Testament of Rosalind Leigh

May 30, 2013: The Best Fucking Horror Movie of 2012, American Mary

June 19, 2013: Sicko Ryuhei (The Midnight Meat Train) Kitamura's No One Lives

BUY TICKETS HERE

ABRAHAM LINCOLN - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Review of Museum of Modern Art Restoration of D.W. Griffith's first sound (and second last) film on Kino-Lorber BLU-RAY

Abraham Lincoln (1930) **** (for D.W. Griffith completists only) *** (for others)
Dir. D.W. Griffith
Starring: Walter Huston, Una Merkel

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Audiences not used to any movies made before last Monday often have blinders on with respect to anything made during the first 80-or-so years of cinema's 125-ish years on this planet. Sadly, one of the great pioneers, D.W. Griffith, frequently evokes catcalls, unintentional laughs and derision for even his best work. Abraham Lincoln, his first sound movie and second last movie period, is not an example of his best work and for many viewers, you can probably replace any or all of the aforementioned negative responses with snores due to the film's stately pace and Griffith's fondness for a gorgeously composed frame and long-ish takes. Running a mere 93 minutes, the Herculean Museum of Modern Art restoration, does occasionally feel twice as long, even, I suspect, to Griffith fans (and apologists of all stripes and, uh, shall we say, colours).

The movie's a bit of a patchwork quilt in that Griffith is clearly struggling with the transition from silent cinema to sound and he's resolutely tied to Victorian-styled storytelling elements which, even in 1930, probably felt dated. That said, Griffith's "dated" quality is pretty much his style, and if you can't embrace that, you probably never will. Besides, the film is still worth seeing - certainly for Griffith aficionados, but also for anyone seriously committed to experiencing a wider range of what the medium has to offer than what comprises the highest contender for last weekend's Friday-to-Sunday grosses.

Unlike Steven Spielberg's bloated overrated Lincoln which focuses almost solely on the fight to end slavery, Griffith's equally bloated, though sadly neglected effort sticks closer to a tried and true biopic structure. Though I'm usually a huge fan of Spielberg's own brand of sentimentality, he mutes it for the apparent benefit of the tale he's chosen to tell. Griffith on the other hand, pulls out all the familiar stops. His movie is replete with the gushing geyser force of old-style Americana and sense of myth. The movie actually begins with Honest Abe's old log cabin and as the film progresses, Griffith indulges in his penchant for quaint romanticism. He also delights in presenting some of Lincoln's bigger political moments in his historical "recreation" mode.

Walter Huston's performance as the Great Man Himself is pretty broad, but it's still a lot of fun seeing a kind of clod-hopping backwoods boy bluster his way into the role of politician and saviour of the little guy. Huston seems to be at his best in the early going, too. Granted, he chews the scenery admirably all the way through, but there's something sweet about the scenes where he's courting Ann Rutledge (played so delightfully by the wonderful Una Merkel) and after her death, Huston genuinely evokes real pain and despair over losing his first true love. Griffith seems less interested in the eventual First Lady and places emphasis on Lincoln's post-Rutledge thoughts of suicide, and mixed feelings to the point where his courtship of Mary Todd (Kay Hammond) even includes the completely fictional sequence where the bearded beanpole has left his bride-to-be abandoned at the altar.

Griffith gives us plenty in the way of debates emphasizing secession and, not so much slavery. I personally don't think this was a bad or even racist choice on Griffith's part. Spielberg, for example, gets to have his cake and eat it too by placing a fair degree of emphasis upon the literal back-room horse-trading which, in addition to the purely economic incentives of ending the war and "reconstructing" the south in the north's own image feel somewhat out of step with the race issue. In Spielberg's film, while muted, it's more of a case of well, yes, we really need to do all this to end slavery - completely downplaying the reality that ending the war was ultimately going to be better for business and would allow for greater expansion into the south, not to mention industrialization and out-and-out theft.

Particularly troubling to modern viewers (and less so, I think in 1930) is how Griffith has one of the few speaking roles of an African American played by a white actor in blackface. In a contemporary context, I think it's less disconcerting than it is just really a strange sight to our eyes and sensibilities. Also, given the historical context and just how "recent" the Civil War was to the timeframe of 1915 to 1930 that both Birth of a Nation and Abraham Lincoln rest within, I've always suspected Griffith was less a racist and more influenced by the prevailing attitude that Southern landowners were indeed exploited during the Reconstruction period. which, in spite of their exploitative use of slaves prior to the war, is far from some sort of tit-for-tat punishment. The shady profiteering off the "losers" of the war simply cannot be ignored.

What's more telling to me in terms of Griffith's moral and political position on slavery rings especially loud and clear within the context of The MOMA Abraham Lincoln restoration, which for example, adds a powerful opening scene aboard a slave ship that includes any number of harrowing and horrifying images of slavery. How a racist could infuse this sequence with such power is, frankly, beyond me.

All in all, Abraham Lincoln is hardly the artistic disaster many have declared - Griffith even uses his unfamiliarity with sound technology to his advantage by staging simple, but often effective single-shot tableaux of dialogue scenes.

As a big, by-the-numbers bio-pic, Abraham Lincoln is, finally a check list of events, but WHAT A CHECKLIST!!! Griffith delivers most of the major historical set-pieces, visits to battlefields (including a terrific battle montage), a genuinely great scene where Lincoln pardons a deserter, John Wilkes Booth (Ian Keith) maniacally plotting to take the president out and, of course the assassination. There is, finally, much in the picture that's spectacular, dazzling and romantic. I frankly like it a whole lot more than Spielberg's take on everyone's favourite stovetop hat-adorned president.

And that, my friends, ain't nothin' to sneeze a wad o' snuff at.

For all lovers of Griffith and anyone serious about the width and breadth of film history, the Kino-Lorber Blu-Ray is an excellent addition to one's film library. The restoration by MOMA, the transfer an the extras make it an absolute must.

SILVER LININGS PLAYBOOK - Review By Greg Klymkiw - This dreadful vomit-inspiration was a movie I tried to sit through twice on a big screen, but finally nailed my feet to the floor and forced myself to watch all the way through on the Blu-Ray from E-One. My floor wasn't a pretty sight, but luckily my mastiff licked it clean.

Silver Linings Playbook (2012) *
Starring: Bradley Cooper, Jennifer Lawrence, Robert DeNiro, Jacki Weaver, Chris Tucker, Julia Stiles
Dir. David O. Russell

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Is there anything more sickening in the world than a whimsical romantic comedy? Why yes! Whimsical romantic comedies most often take the crown for inspiring involuntary regurgitation when the attractive lovebirds are certifiably insane (or in this case, they're bi-polar and/or depressed or whatever). Usually, it's the French or Belgians who are responsible for this sort of cinematic finger down the throat, but Silver Linings Playbook is American. This is not to say that Americans are incapable of rendering product for the genre I like to call "cute retard" movies (a la Forrest Gump or Rainman), but having to watch lovey-dovey whackos find each other is usually far more offensive.

How anyone in their right mind could actually stomach this picture is beyond me.

Bradley Cooper plays a cute (ugh) bi-polar loser whose marbles get super scrambled when he finds his wife in the shower with a dweeby co-worker. Our hero gets so madly out-of-control violent that he's forced into an asylum for treatment and slapped with a zillion restraining orders. As part of a court-ordered arrangement he's released into Mom and Dad's (Jacki Weaver and Robert DeNiro) custody, attends psychiatric therapy and promises to take his meds.

Of course, he refuses to take his meds and all manner of hilarity purportedly ensues.

Upon settling into his old bedroom in the family home, he discovers Dad's lost his job, pension and has turned to bookmaking for dough. Brad is deluded enough to think he's going to get his old job and wife back, but this is about as likely as China not becoming the world's next major super power. Dad and Brad are often at odds until it's discovered than sonny-boy appears to be a good luck charm for Father Dearest's bookmaking needs.

Perhaps they'll find some common ground. Ugh. (Dad, it seems, has a bit of an uncontrollable temper, so maybe there's also a bit of the old like-father-like-son juju going around. Double ugh.)

More sickening than pretty much anything in the movie (especially the idea of Robert DeNiro and Jacki Weaver's characters having sex), he meets the foul-mouthed fellow whacko Jennifer Lawrence in a horrendous dinner party meet-cute where they compare notes on meds.

Watching attractive leads compare psycho meds is so cute. Isn't it?

Yes-siree-Bob, they're pretty much made for each other and there's no fear they won't end up a couple. What's particularly bile-inducing is when she recruits Brad to be her partner in a dance competition the same day he's supposed to help Dad's bookmaking mojo during a football game. Gee Willikers! Aren't you trembling with trepitude? Or, perhaps even the moral turpitude that watching this abomination might inspire?

Ultimately, everything works out peachy-keen for everybody. That's a shock, isn't it?

Dance - I kid you not - proves to be highly therapeutic for our lovebirds (SUPER-MEGA-UGH). This, I'm sure will make you feel all warm and tingly, mais non? Perhaps all whack-jobs (and those who aren't) will learn a lesson or two from this. I know did.

As a bonus, the movie features, on the way to romantic bliss, no less, a sequence involving a lot of yelling. Thank Christ Robert De Niro's in the house.

And what are we supposed to make of Jennifer Lawrence who was so terrific in Winter's Bone as the white trash girlie looking for her Daddy's corpse in the southern bayous? Since that time, she's proven to be virtually unwatchable, especially as the ridiculously-named Katniss in the equally execrable Hunger Games.

Most inexplicable is how Lawrence won a Best Actress Oscar for this stinker. In a year of many great female performances and roles (including astounding work from fellow nominees Jessica Chastain, Emmaneulle Riva and Naomi Watts), one can only assume the Academy's members felt the most challenging work could only come from someone who was convincingly able to pull off cute, crazy and potty-mouthed. When necessary, Lawrence was also suitably dewy-eyed and, most handily, displayed the ability to shout as loud as Robert De Niro.

And that, my friends, takes some doin'.

"Silver Linings Playbook" is available on Blu-Ray and DVD from E-One and loaded with all the requisite, though in this case, completely uninteresting extras.

10 BEST FILMS AT HOT DOCS 2013 - By Greg Klymkiw

GREG KLYMKIW'S 10 BEST FILMS AT HOT DOCS 2013

(in alphabetical order)

15 Reasons To Live - My review HERE

Continental - My Review HERE

Devil's Lair, The - My review HERE

Ghosts in Our Machine - My review HERE

Interior. Leather Bar. - My review HERE

Manor, The - My Review HERE

Oil Sands Karaoke - My Review HERE

Special Ed - My Review HERE

Valentine Road - My Review HERE

Who is Dayani Cristal - My Review HERE

HOT DOCS AWARDS - By Greg Klymkiw - I, THE JURY is not only the title of the great book by Mickey Spillane, but the title of this piece which bestows the Hot Docs Awards for the 2013 edition as selected by me.

I, THE JURY - My Choices for the Hot Docs 2013 Awards

By Greg Klymkiw

I am pleased to announce the winners of the Hot Docs Festival 2013 awards as chosen by me. The Hot Docs Awards Presentation, hosted by the late June Tracy (Octagenarian House Burlesque Artist at the lovely Constellation Room in Winnipeg, Manitoba), took place on Friday, May 3, at the Manor Gentleman's Club in Guelph, Ontario. Nine awards and no cash were presented to Canadian and international filmmakers, including awards for Festival films in competition and those recognizing emerging and established filmmakers. A selection of three award-winning films will not have added screenings on Sunday, May 5.

*****

The Best Canadian Feature Documentary Award was presented to 15 Reasons To Live (Director Alan Zweig, Producer Julia Rosenberg, Distributor: KinoSmith) - My Review: HERE

The Special I, The Jury Prize – Canadian Feature Documentary was presented to Continental (Director/Producer: Malcolm Ingram) - My Review HERE

New this year, the I, The Jury Emerging Canadian Filmmaker Award (Mid-Length Film) was presented to director Hans Olson for The Auctioneer (Distributor: National Film Board of Canada, NFB) - See my review HERE

New this year, the I, The Jury Emerging Canadian Filmmaker Award (Feature Film) was presented to director Shawney Cohen for The Manor (Distributor: KinoSmith) - My review HERE

The Best International Feature Documentary Award was presented to The Devil's Lair (Director: Riaan Hendricks, Producer: Neil Brandt) - My review HERE

The Special   I, The Jury Prize – International Feature Documentary was presented to Who is Dayani Cristal? (Director: Mark Silver Producer: Lucas Ochoa, Thomas Benski, Gael Garcia Bernal) - My review HERE

The Special   I, The Jury Prize – International Mid-Length Documentary was presented to Winter, Go Away 

(Directors: Sofia Rodkevich, Anton Seregin, Madina Mustafina, Elena Khoreva, Anna Moiseenko, Dmitry Kubasov, Askold Kurov, Nadezhda Leonteva, Alexey Zhirayakov, Denis Klebleev Producer: Marina Razbezhkina) - My review HERE

The KCND-TV I, The Jury Documentary Films Emerging Artist Award was presented to director Riaan Hendricks for The Devil's Lair - My review HERE

The I, The Jury Audience Award, voted on by one informed gentleman who declares the following film to be the most entertaining documentary of the festival: Oil Sands Karaoke (Director: Charles Wilkinson, Producer: Tina Schliessler) Read my review HERE

IRON MAN 3 - Review By Greg Klymkiw

Iron Man 3 (2013) *
Dir. Shane Black
Starring: Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, Ben Kingsley, Guy Pearce, Don Cheadle, Ben Kingsley, Rebecca Hall, Jon Favreau, Stephanie Szostak, Miguel Ferrer, William Sadler

Review By Greg Klymkiw

The best thing about this lame sequel in an increasingly tedious franchise is SIR Ben Kingsley's first scene as mega-villain The Mandarin where the character's true colours are exposed. Sir Ben prances giddily into a bedroom equipped with two half-naked babes and crows with delight over his satisfying 20-minute bowel movement. We (predictably, I might add) discover Kingsley's character is little more than a failed regional theatre actor engaged as a public front for the real villain, mad scientist madman Aldrich Killian (Guy Pearce). Only a gibbering gibbon wouldn't figure out within the first ten or so minutes who's actually behind the acts of terrorism that send the world into high-panic mode. This is also the only genuinely funny moment one will derive from the sheer drudgery of having to get through all 130 minutes of this dull, bloated superhero picture.

What we get is this. Tony Stark (Robert Downey Jr. with especially grotesque facial hair a la Reveen the Impossibilist) is withdrawing obsessively ever-further into his experiments. Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow - looking less equine these days, but still clod-hopping about as if she were a nag willingly on her way to the glue factory) is left to run the Stark Industries Corp. Happy Hogan (Jon Favreau) has been promoted to head of security and annoys everyone by insisting they wear I.D. badges. Aldrich Killian, Pepper's unrequited admirer from long ago brings a business proposition to her and is subsequently turned down.

The Man They Call REVEEN is Tony Stark - IRONMAN

The Mandarin begins hijacking the airwaves to deliver warnings of doom and present as-they-happen acts of terrorism. When Happy is a victim of one of the attacks and lies vegetable-like in the hospital, Tony Stark makes it clear he's out for vengeance. The Mandarin destroys Tony's mansion. Our multi-billionaire superhero goes into hiding to regroup and is befriended by a cute kid who also helps him. Pepper gets kidnapped. The President of the United states (William Sadler) gets kidnapped.

Will Tony be up to the challenge?

You bet he will.

With the help of second banana Col. Rhodes (Don Cheadle - acting more and more like a grim-faced Stepin Fetchit), the obnoxious cute kid and his robot Jarvis (Paul Bettany's voice in full C3P0-mode), Iron Man/Tony rescues everyone, but not before we're forced to endure endless de rigueur herky-jerky action scenes that feel like they were directed by a chimpanzee on Benzedrine.

Iron Man 3 is just as haphazard and dull as Iron Man 2, but seeing as the picture is more of a sequel to the utterly abysmal The Avengers, it might actually be the worst of the lot.

No, let me take that back. Nothing's worse than The Avengers save, perhaps, for The Green Hornet. Director and co-writer Shane Black has acquitted himself reasonably well in the past as a competent scribe for action pictures, but seeing as his best script is still Lethal Weapon (the acclaimed script for his directorial debut Kiss, Kiss, Bang, Bang is too aware of its "cleverness" for my taste), he's ultimately - when you do the math - little more than a hack.

Iron Man 3 is a long way down from Jon Favreau's first Iron Man picture - an amiable, somewhat fresh and very funny outing. This one is insufferable, but as it's in the same mould as most other recent superhero Goodyear Blimps that new generations of movie-goers are perfectly happy to embrace, it's poised and destined to rack up huge grosses.

I need a palate-cleanser after seeing this, so I'll probably slap on one of Sam Raimi's terrific Spider-Man pictures. At least he's a real filmmaker. (And if you are planning on seeing the movie, you can save some dough by seeing it flat screen since the 3-D is annoying and doesn't add anything - as per usual, really.)

"Iron Man 3" is in wide mega-release all over the planet.

THE DEVIL'S LAIR - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Klymkiw HOT DOCS 2013 HOT PICK

The Devil's Lair (2013) ****
Dir. Riaan Hendricks

Review By Greg Klymkiw

This is one grim, gritty and nerve-wracking gangster picture, but like the best of them, it's got heart.

The picture's emotional punch emanates from its central character, Braaim, a lean, lanky, almost classically handsome late-forty-to-fifty-something with a whole lot of salt and a dash or two of pepper in his hair. Though he prefers loose shirts and sweats, his wife, a caring, understanding and delightfully full-figured gal (and Mom to his three kids) tries to make sure he's spruced up suitably for important engagements. Their relationship is loving - she never nags, but always throws in gentle reminders and he clearly strives to be a devoted family man, though ultimately, his work has a habit of getting in the way.

He's a wise elder member and boss of NTK (Nice To Kill), a gang specializing in the sale of narcotics. Most gangstas die at half his age, but Braain's got staying power, not to mention plenty of the requisite hard-ass meanness and moxie to handle anything, including s vicious turf war that's being waged against his territory.

Though he wants to leave the neighbourhood and the "business" to make a better life for his family, he's bound by the code of his gang and can't break free until the right people have been whacked. (Makes perfect sense to me.) He wants NTK to be strong and secure without him and ultimately, for peace between gangs to be restored and thus making his dreams of halcyon days come true.

Braaim's wife is alternately resigned to the choice she made in knowingly marrying a thug (albeit a handsome and charming one), but she stills harbours a need for him to at least slightly curtail his activities so he can spend more time with his family. It's a pipe dream she holds onto - dangling and extending an impending divorce over his head - hoping this will change his ways.

This, in spite of many displays of his tenderness, just doesn't seem to be in the cards.

Ultimately, our hero is a been-there-done-that kind of guy. His eyes have seen everything, his spirit has been infused with hatred (when necessary) and he's done what he's had to do to provide leadership and maintain the gang. He has even served a (surprisingly light) seven-year sentence in prison for murder. He's justifiably concerned that he can't ever murder again for fear of having the book thrown at him.

Most of all, Braain hopes his children will never have to follow in his footsteps. He acknowledges that he knows what he knows from growing up in a family where his own father packaged drugs, planned killings and sported a wide variety of guns. He consumed the sins of his father, but desperately hopes this will not be the fate of his own children.

These are not the mean streets of way uptown in NYC or in South Central L.A. Braain and his family live in the flats of Cape Town - a community created by the Apartheid government in the 50s to separate living space between white and black. Though people of colour now have freedom, the chasm between rich and poor is wider than before and most Cape Town Blacks live in the flats.

As well, this gangster picture is not a drama. You might have guessed that one already since it's playing at Hot Docs, but it's so expertly shot and edited (by its clearly gifted director Hendricks), with the right attention paid to narrative detail and character, that the movie feels like Mean Streets on the Cape Town Flats.

There are moments that are simply unforgettable - gunshots echoing in the streets, the gang sucking back crystal meth and planning murder, long talks into the night about shattered dreams, a child playing with a dead cat's corpse in the street, other children playing with toy guns - striking poses of bravado in honour of their fathers and among many other indelible moments, contrasting sequences between Braain and his baby girl where he's like any tender Dad doting on his little one and others where he holds her in his arms as he conducts "business".

These are real people, real locations and real events. There's a touch of Lionel Rogosin to the proceedings, but Hendricks goes way beyond staging improvised scenes based on tales crafted during the shoot itself which is why you're always on the edge of your seat. He's a filmmaker with cinema hard-wired into his genetic code and he makes it seems so easy for us to alternately cringe and weep.

And yet, it was clearly anything but easy to make.

This is a movie I shall not soon forget. Neither will you.

"The Devil's Lair" is playing at Hot Docs 2013. For tickets and showtimes, visit the Hot Docs website HERE.

WINTER, GO AWAY - Review By Greg Klymkiw - Klymkiw HOT DOCS 2013 HOT PICK

Winter, Go Away (2013) ***1/2
Producer: Marina Razbezhkina
Dir: Sofia Rodkevich, Anton Seregin, Madina Mustafina, Elena Khoreva, Anna Moiseenko, Dmitry Kubasov, Askold Kurov, Nadezhda Leonteva, Alexey Zhirayakov, Denis Klebleev

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Vladimir Putin is evil. He is the worst thing to happen to Russian since the Butcher Stalin. He is potentially another Hitler. Or at the very least, Stalin. And believe me, that's bad enough since Putin believes in nothing but himself and his cronies. He has no beliefs save for the fake sense of nationalism he uses as a public relations ploy to keep himself in power. Oh, actually, I erred somewhat in that last statement. He believes in brute force and open corruption.

This very cool and brilliantly edited documentary comes to us courtesy of Producer Marina Razbezhkina who, for my money, directed one of the genuinely great Russian films of the past twenty-or-so years - the exquisite and poetic avant-garde drama Harvest Time, 2004's ode to and very odd reworking of Dovzhenko's immortal farm collective celebration Zemlya.

Assembling 10 filmmakers to shoot events for the two months preceding Putin's third re-election, Winter, Go Away is not only a stunning portrait of a Russia ideologically and politically sliced in half with two diametrically opposed forces, but it's a harrowing up close and in your face exposé of a police state. If you didn't know or believe it before, the film makes it clear that all those whom Putin has bought and paid for to swing the election in his favour are utter filth. It's the worst Soviet style of wrapping peacekeepers and bureaucrats around one's finger.

The film's "balanced" portrait clearly demonstrates how those who believe in Putin seem as deluded as the Christian Right Wing in the United States. That said, we also see how splintered and disorganized the anti-Putin camp is - all their hearts are in the right place, but none of their bodies and minds come together at the right time.



Moreover the one thing that simply cannot be denied is the content during numerous sequences involving a near-litany of infuriating, flagrant disregard for basic human rights and free expression. With this, the filmmakers expose their agenda quite openly and in fact, the approach taken with the whole film is not unlike the kind of "balanced" portraiture the pro-Putin camp employs (albeit with far more money and power behind it than those who are against him). As far as I'm concerned, this is fine - the film, in spite of ten directors, has a powerful, cohesive and forceful point of view.

The movie on paper might sound like a patchwork quilt, but editor Yuri Geddert fashions a painful and frustrating narrative wherein Putin's win seems like a done deal from the beginning. And yet, we are introuced to so many brave and committed young voters who exude a collective belief system in a Russia free of the yoke of Putin's gangsterism. Just as maddening, however, is how disparate they all seem, but what unites the anti-Putin demonstrators and activists - at least within the context of the film - is seeing their hopes dashed as they are over and over again are beaten and incarcerated by policemen who care only about the status quo and their own, no doubt, healthy pay-offs to keep the peace - Putin Style.

By the time we get to election day, the flagrant abuses multiply exponentially and Putin will once more reign supreme. It's not especially hopeful, but the pure "fuck you" attitude of Russia's youth is something to embrace and champion,

"Winter, Go Away" is playing at the Hot Docs 2013 Film Festival. For tickets and showtimes visit the Hot Docs website HERE. The film is preceded by a short satirical piece entitled "Vladimir Putin in Deep Concentration" which, at just under ten minutes is about five minutes too long to achieve the effect it's trying for.

"THE GHOSTS IN OUR MACHINE" + "CHIMERAS" + "FELIX AUSTRIA!" - Reviews By Greg Klymkiw - Klymkiw's Bases-are-loaded HOT DOCS 2013 HOT PICKS

The Ghosts in Our Machine (2013) ****
Dir. Liz Marshall

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Okay, so something funny happened on the way to my home in the country. My wife and child, both being inveterate tree-huggers, got the craziest idea. What they wanted to do sounded like one hell of a lot of work. They promised I would not have to avail my services upon any aspect of their venture. Well, good intentions and all that, but now I find I'm not only a gentleman farmer, but involved in the rescue of animals living in horrid conditions and headed for inevitable slaughter. Now, it's not that I'm some kind of anti-environmental redneck or something, but what I love about living in the country is sitting in my dark office, smoking cigarettes, watching movies and writing. I occasionally step over to the window, part the curtains briefly and look outside to acknowledge - Ah yes, nature! I then happily return to my prodigious activities.

You see, prior to becoming a gentleman farmer, I liked the IDEA of nature, the IDEA of being in deep bush, the IDEA of living off-grid on solar energy. Well, more than the ideas, really, since I did enjoy all of the above in practice, but in my own way.

Now, I have animals. Shitloads of them that my wife, daughter and eventually I rescued from misery with the assistance of a super-cool Amish dude.

Needless to say, when watching Liz Marshall's film, I was completely blown away. You see, having experienced the joy of coming to know a variety of animals, I eventually realized that all of God's creatures I mistook for being little more than blobs of meat with nothing resembling character, spirit or intelligence was just downright stupid. I've always had dogs and THEY certainly have character, spirit and intelligence - so why NOT chickens? Or donkeys? Or hell, even bees.

Marshall's film, you see, focuses upon someone I'd have to classify as a saint. Photographer Jo-Anne McArthur is not only an astounding artist of the highest order, but by restricting her activities to mostly photographing animals in the most horrendous captivity, she's risked both her life and mental health. Given my recently-acquired predilection for animal rights, I watched Marshall's film three times. Yes, on a first viewing I was far too emotionally wound up to keep my cap of critical detachment on, but now I'm perfectly convinced of the film's importance in terms of both subject AND cinema. It's a finely wrought piece of work that takes huge risks on so many levels in order to present a stunningly etched portrait of the heroic McArthur and HER subjects - all those animals being tortured to fill the bellies of ignoramuses and line the pockets of corporate criminals. (Not that I'm planning to go Vegan anytime soon, but I do believe that ANYONE who consumes any animal product derived from cruel meat factories as opposed to natural free-range is no better than a torturer and murderer.)

Not kidding about that, either.

What you see in this film will shock you. There is no denying what both Marshall and McArthur see and capture with their respective cameras. Creatures with individual souls and personalities are being hunted, incarcerated in conditions akin to concentration camps and/or bred in captivity and tortured until they are slaughtered. Equally frustrating are the corporate boneheads in a variety of publishing industries devoted to generating purported journalism - the difficulty with which McArthur must suffer to get her work published and to bring attention to these atrocities gets me so magma-headed I need to almost be physically restrained from going "postal".

You must see this movie.

If you're a coward, loser and/or asshole and don't want to see the truth, then fuck you!

Chimeras (2013) ***
Dir. Mika Mattila

Review By Greg Klymkiw

Two artists. One rich and famous. The other - well, not so much. Both are on opposite ends of the art world spectrum. One does commercial art, the other - well, not so much. Is our tale situated then, in the two different NYC worlds of Madison Avenue and the Village respectively? Nope. We're talking China - the nation poised to be the ultimate superpower. And artists, no matter who they are grapple with common issues. They both want to pursue a purely Asian style, which is all well and good until one has to grapple with the intricacies of Communism vs. traditional Eastern philosophy and religion vs. the strange contemporary cusp period China is in which blends the tenets of a free market with Totalitarianism. Add to this heady brew the increasing and almost overwhelming influence of North American culture and artists young and old, rich and poor, seasoned and neophyte - who are grappling with a conundrum of overwhelming proportions. Director Mika Mattila steadies his gaze upon these two poles of experience through two artists and delivers are nicely made exploratory rumination upon these complex ideas. The picture is a tiny bit precious in its approach, but patience will yield rewards for discriminating viewers.

Felix Austria (2013) **1/2
Dir. Christine Beebe

Review By Greg Klymkiw

The dandy, well-dressed fellow is Felix Pfeifle from Modesto, California and director Christine Beebe offers up this scattershot, though often mind-blowingly imaginative documentary film which, being the adventures of a young man whose principal interests are Viennese high culture, ultra-Austro-Hungarian-aristocracy and Archduke Otto von Habsburg, makes for a mostly intriguing mix of personal journey, obsession and history. Felix has dreams about his obsessions and this is where the film shines. Like some perverse coupling of Guy Maddin and Jan Svankmajer (with dollops of the Brothers Quay), we're treated to the sort of dazzlingly sumptuous cinema magic one would want from a film that focuses upon the aforementioned individual. Less interesting to me is Felix's real life which keeps getting in the way of the glorious dream sequences, his Austro-monarchical fetishes and finally, the astonishing moments where we lays eyes upon the last living descendant of the empire Felix so desperately adores. There is also the interesting exploration of a mysterious, huge box that arrives from the estate of one Herbert Hinckle (which, for some reason forces me to imagine some ancient, wizened version of Travis Bickle in his dotage). The package contains a wealth of materials to keep Felix in a state of perpetual orgasm for the rest of his life and it is elements such as these which make the film ultimately a worthwhile experience.

"THE GHOSTS IN OUR MACHINE", "CHIMERAS" and "FELIX AUSTRIA!" are all playing at the Hot Docs 2013 Filom Festival. For tickets and showtimes visit the Hot Docs website HERE.