Worst Album Covers Ever

Because it's Monday and you need a laugh...

Plenty More Here (NSFW)

Worst Album Covers Ever

Because it's Monday and you need a laugh...

Plenty More Here (NSFW)

Anarchy in Argentina: A Week Alone (2008)*****

Reviewed by Shu Zin

A WEEK ALONE is an Argentinean gem whose surface is well-faceted, but not highly polished. It has a very consistent, charged atmosphere that is subtle and sometimes hilarious. Lots and lots of adolescent energy and intensity turn it into something a little ominous. Maria is a 23 year old staying with her cousins to take care of them and the hacienda while the wealthy parents (who never appear in this drama) are away for a couple of weeks' vacation.

Kids are left behind, under-supervised, to get into some interesting mischief in the gated community they call home. When Maria's brother Juan Fernando arrives unexpectedly, the dynamics change, and one senses instantly there's trouble to come. Actually, although the kids carry it over the top and probably would have continued to escalate their daring little adventures here, the sense of utter gloom that settles like a pall over them all struck me as oddly familiar. 

While I didn't go as far as these ones do, I think we've all felt that sense of despair and dread when our chickens come home to roost. Director Celina Murga does a fine job of observing mundane, ad-libbed chatter and weaving it into an increasingly dark slice of life. The ending, the last five minutes are simply brilliant. Droll, too. A portrait of gloom I shan't soon forget. I loved this movie, and I'd recommend it to anyone patient and adventurous. Happy to see they've acquired some new Argentinean films here. They are usually sophisticated, surprising, fresh and captivating.

Reviewed by Shu Zin

Anarchy in Argentina: A Week Alone (2008)*****

Reviewed by Shu Zin

A WEEK ALONE is an Argentinean gem whose surface is well-faceted, but not highly polished. It has a very consistent, charged atmosphere that is subtle and sometimes hilarious. Lots and lots of adolescent energy and intensity turn it into something a little ominous. Maria is a 23 year old staying with her cousins to take care of them and the hacienda while the wealthy parents (who never appear in this drama) are away for a couple of weeks' vacation.

Kids are left behind, under-supervised, to get into some interesting mischief in the gated community they call home. When Maria's brother Juan Fernando arrives unexpectedly, the dynamics change, and one senses instantly there's trouble to come. Actually, although the kids carry it over the top and probably would have continued to escalate their daring little adventures here, the sense of utter gloom that settles like a pall over them all struck me as oddly familiar. 

While I didn't go as far as these ones do, I think we've all felt that sense of despair and dread when our chickens come home to roost. Director Celina Murga does a fine job of observing mundane, ad-libbed chatter and weaving it into an increasingly dark slice of life. The ending, the last five minutes are simply brilliant. Droll, too. A portrait of gloom I shan't soon forget. I loved this movie, and I'd recommend it to anyone patient and adventurous. Happy to see they've acquired some new Argentinean films here. They are usually sophisticated, surprising, fresh and captivating.

Reviewed by Shu Zin

Latkes and Lament: The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (1974) ****1/2

In between his star-making turns in American Graffiti and Jaws - the latter to be released on blu-ray this summer - Richard Dreyfuss appeared in this modest Canadian production. And while The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz has not obtained the iconic stature of the other two pictures – to put it mildly – in its own way this portrait of a hustling dreamer is an equally rewarding cinematic experience. 

Based on a novel by Mordecai Richler, Canada’s answer to John Updike and chronicler of that perpetually confused between-the-wars generation, The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz is an involving and entertaining look at Montreal’s Jewish community circa 1950, and the underlying fear, bitterness and guilt of its slightly traumatized residents. The film captures unique elements of self-loathing, here played mainly for laughs, as characters revel in traditional aspirations, yet occasionally chide each other for appearing “too Jewish”. 

Dreyfuss plays the title character, a 20ish hustler determined to make it as an entrepreneur and earn the respect of his gruff father (Jack Warden), a widowed cab driver and part-time pimp. Duddy’s older brother Lenny (Alan Rosenthal) is studying to be a doctor, a pursuit that qualifies him as royalty in this cloistered neighborhood, and Duddy is eager to eclipse his sibling’s star in record time. The film follows the manipulative Duddy through a number of money making schemes, ranging from the visionary to the hare-brained, and creates an unlikely empathy for this borderline gonif.  

Along the way, Dreyfuss links up with a number of  lost souls and these supporting characters give the film comedic and emotional richness. Denholm Elliott is a scream as a booze-addled British film director – a sort of minor league Ken Russell – who goes into business with Duddy creating abstract, allegorical home movies of bar mitzvahs. Impossibly young and slender Randy Quaid delivers a heartbreaking performance as a naïve epileptic, providing a reminder of the enormous talent that made him a household name before his career descended to its current state of public untidiness. Veteran character actor Joe Silver lends his compelling baritone to the role of Duddy’s surrogate father while Micheline Lanctôt adds just the right flavors of experienced sexiness as Duddy’s French-Canadian shiksa goddess and moral compass. 

But The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz is made manifest by Richard Dreyfuss, in a performance so thoroughly laced with tics and physical business his energy bursts from the screen. Under the watchful eye of underrated comedy director Ted Kotcheff – check out his ageless North Dallas Forty sometime for a poignant and hilarious skewering of the NFL – Dreyfuss doesn’t caress the camera, he collides with it; his tendency to scenery chew a perfect compliment to his character’s explosive persona. Kotcheff carefully builds the sleepy atmospherics of mid-century Montreal, then introduces the ticking time bomb embodied by Duddy. The pace of the film immediately quickens, yet close inspection reveals no change in its editorial rhythm; the film’s increased intensity attributable only to Dreyfuss. In scenes where supporting characters deliver impassioned speeches, Dreyfuss kicks at the ground like an impatient bull, calculating his next move. Duddy’s moral lapses are always attributable to some high and noble purpose; the end fully justifying the means, and the end is always Duddy. It’s a tribute to Dreyfuss’ transformative skills that he applied radically different techniques to Marine Biologist Matt Hooper the following year in Jaws, yet each character projected stark believability. 

Like his costar Randy Quaid, Richard Dreyfuss has floundered in recent years, lost in an American film industry that has little use for his unique talents and, in truth, no longer deserves him. But in The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz, Dreyfuss’ nervous nebbish ultimately gets exactly what he wants. Duddy also gets exactly what he deserves. And, tragically enough, the two things are identical.

Latkes and Lament: The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (1974) ****1/2

In between his star-making turns in American Graffiti and Jaws - the latter to be released on blu-ray this summer - Richard Dreyfuss appeared in this modest Canadian production. And while The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz has not obtained the iconic stature of the other two pictures – to put it mildly – in its own way this portrait of a hustling dreamer is an equally rewarding cinematic experience. 

Based on a novel by Mordecai Richler, Canada’s answer to John Updike and chronicler of that perpetually confused between-the-wars generation, The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz is an involving and entertaining look at Montreal’s Jewish community circa 1950, and the underlying fear, bitterness and guilt of its slightly traumatized residents. The film captures unique elements of self-loathing, here played mainly for laughs, as characters revel in traditional aspirations, yet occasionally chide each other for appearing “too Jewish”. 

Dreyfuss plays the title character, a 20ish hustler determined to make it as an entrepreneur and earn the respect of his gruff father (Jack Warden), a widowed cab driver and part-time pimp. Duddy’s older brother Lenny (Alan Rosenthal) is studying to be a doctor, a pursuit that qualifies him as royalty in this cloistered neighborhood, and Duddy is eager to eclipse his sibling’s star in record time. The film follows the manipulative Duddy through a number of money making schemes, ranging from the visionary to the hare-brained, and creates an unlikely empathy for this borderline gonif.  

Along the way, Dreyfuss links up with a number of  lost souls and these supporting characters give the film comedic and emotional richness. Denholm Elliott is a scream as a booze-addled British film director – a sort of minor league Ken Russell – who goes into business with Duddy creating abstract, allegorical home movies of bar mitzvahs. Impossibly young and slender Randy Quaid delivers a heartbreaking performance as a naïve epileptic, providing a reminder of the enormous talent that made him a household name before his career descended to its current state of public untidiness. Veteran character actor Joe Silver lends his compelling baritone to the role of Duddy’s surrogate father while Micheline Lanctôt adds just the right flavors of experienced sexiness as Duddy’s French-Canadian shiksa goddess and moral compass. 

But The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz is made manifest by Richard Dreyfuss, in a performance so thoroughly laced with tics and physical business his energy bursts from the screen. Under the watchful eye of underrated comedy director Ted Kotcheff – check out his ageless North Dallas Forty sometime for a poignant and hilarious skewering of the NFL – Dreyfuss doesn’t caress the camera, he collides with it; his tendency to scenery chew a perfect compliment to his character’s explosive persona. Kotcheff carefully builds the sleepy atmospherics of mid-century Montreal, then introduces the ticking time bomb embodied by Duddy. The pace of the film immediately quickens, yet close inspection reveals no change in its editorial rhythm; the film’s increased intensity attributable only to Dreyfuss. In scenes where supporting characters deliver impassioned speeches, Dreyfuss kicks at the ground like an impatient bull, calculating his next move. Duddy’s moral lapses are always attributable to some high and noble purpose; the end fully justifying the means, and the end is always Duddy. It’s a tribute to Dreyfuss’ transformative skills that he applied radically different techniques to Marine Biologist Matt Hooper the following year in Jaws, yet each character projected stark believability. 

Like his costar Randy Quaid, Richard Dreyfuss has floundered in recent years, lost in an American film industry that has little use for his unique talents and, in truth, no longer deserves him. But in The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz, Dreyfuss’ nervous nebbish ultimately gets exactly what he wants. Duddy also gets exactly what he deserves. And, tragically enough, the two things are identical.

Harvest Moan: Pauline et François (2010)****

Pauline et François is an airy, meditative drama built on fresh, chilly breezes and scaled perfectly to the human soul. Filmed in the sparsely populated Limousin region southwest of Paris - an area more famous for its cattle than its sophistication - the film captures the casual gentleness of human interaction and the hypnotic – at times disturbing - quietness of country life. Pauline et François is like a family scrapbook of intriguing moments; some small, some cathartic, over the course of a few months. Writer/director Renaud Fely, making his feature debut, carefully blends these seemingly unremarkable elements into a rich portrait that paints everyday life in subtly heroic hues. 

Laura Smet plays Pauline, a young widow from Paris who comes to Limousin to take a new job at a bank. She rents a farmhouse on a crumbling agrarian compound owned by the family of her coworker Catherine (Lea Drucker). Catherine’s hunky but sensitive brother François (Yannick Renier), a roofing contractor, lives across the way in a converted barn and the pair strike up a friendship laced with unspoken sexual tension. From this fascinating springboard, the story branches out to encompass the lives of François’ family and the tragic childhood event that forged a long standing dynamic based on deception.

The film’s scenes of rural life evoke the gray, windswept notes of Andrew Wyeth, reinforcing the story’s undercurrents of remorse. But Fely stages scenes of such catatonic realism the film often feels like a documentary, yet each conversation and interaction is perfectly timed with nary a wasted word or motion. He avoids any cinema verite artiness, favoring instead a simple presentation that scores with superb pacing and tonality. Smet, taking a break from her portfolio of home-wreckers, does a fine job as a woman with deep pain beginning to find her balance again while Renier emits such earnest conviction he appears ready to take his place among France’s top leading men. 

Pauline et François contains little in the way of emotive revelations or garment rending histrionics. Its dramatic climax, if one can call it that, is a relatively minor moment of moral weakness that’s quickly discovered and rectified. The film is neither artfully minimal nor flashily intense. But it is a haunting and compelling construction, built only with the most rudimentary of filmmaking tools. And Fely’s honest labor rewards his viewers with a memorable perspective of one family’s drift down the meandering river of time.