NYC Film Critic

Directed by Craig McCall
***

British cinematographer Jack Cardiff is a poster child for career longevity.  Entering the film business as a 4-year-old actor in 1918, Cardiff had moved behind-the-camera by his late teens and continued to work right up until his death in 2009 at the age of 94.  Along the way, he photographed almost 70 features—from landmark classics like The Red Shoes to meat-and-potatoes efforts like Rambo: First Blood Part II—and directed a handful of films as well, including the award-winning Sons and Lovers.  He was also a front-line observer to the radical changes in the film industry that occurred over that multi-decade period, from the rise and fall of the studio system from the ‘30s to the ‘60s, to the temporary collapse of Britain’s film industry in the ‘70s and the infusion of international money into the marketplace in the ‘80s and ‘90s.  Sadly, Craig McCall’s affectionate tribute to Cardiff’s epic career doesn’t make more of the changing times he lived through.  Instead Cameraman is primarily an extended clip reel that showcases select scenes from his subject’s work, punctuated by interviews with Cardiff as well as his many contemporaries and admirers.  Fortunately, the clips are grand enough—and Cardiff is engaging and insightful enough—to make the film a modest pleasure.  By far, the most interesting section is devoted to the cinematographer’s working relationship with Michael Powell and Emerich Pressburger, with whom he collaborated on three memorable films, A Matter of Life and Death, Black Narcissus and the aforementioned Red Shoes.  (If Cameraman accomplishes nothing else, it should encourage audiences to run out and watch those pictures—along with the rest of Powell & Pressburger’s marvelous filmography—again or for the first time.)  Cardiff also has some hilarious memories to share about his time making The African Queen for John Huston.  The rest of his extensive filmography passes by in something of a haze, as McCall jumps from clip to clip, only occasionally pausing to offer more context about the film in question.  For example, the fantastical 1951 romance Pandora and the Flying Dutchman is discussed somewhat at length, but other films are granted only cursory explanations.  And even though the film is subtitled The Life and Work of Jack Cardiff, the subject of Cardiff’s personal life is rarely touched on—we’re never even told whether he married or had children.  (Not that McCall needed to turn this into some kind of an E! True Hollywood Story, but it would have been interesting to know whether his career kept him from having a family and if that weighed on him at all.)  Still, while Cameraman isn’t as thorough as it could and perhaps should be, it does give moviegoers a deeper appreciation for the art and craft of cinematography in general and Cardiff’s work in particular.

Tuesday, After Christmas
Directed by Radu Muntean
***1/2

Aurora
Directed by Cristi Puiu
**1/2

The recent Romanian New Wave kicked off with a series of films that used small personal stories to explore broader social and political issues that are part of the country’s past and present.  2005’s The Death of Mr. Lazarescu, for example, offered an almost moment-by-moment account of the last night in an elderly man’s life and, in the process, exposed a broken health care system.  2007’s 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days followed a young woman’s attempt to have an abortion after dictator Nicolae Ceausescu outlawed the procedure in the ‘80s.  And in last year’s Police, Adjective, a cop tries to navigate around his department’s excessive bureaucracy to give a young offender a second chance.

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Directed by Martin Scorsese and Kent Jones
****

If Martin Scorsese ever decides to give up directing (though that hopefully won’t happen anytime soon) his next step should be to open his own film school.  After all, few contemporary filmmakers are as passionate and articulate when in comes to discussing both their love of movies as well as the craft that goes into making them.  Scorsese has already lent his expertise to two indispensable movie-related documentaries—one a detailed overview of American cinema and the other an insightful survey of the Italian films from the ‘40s, ‘50s and ‘60s—and now he examines the career of director Elia Kazan, whose work left a lasting impression on a young Italian kid from the Lower East Side that would one day grow up to direct movies himself.  Despite helming such landmark films as On the Waterfront and East of Eden, these days Kazan is most commonly associated with his controversial decision to co-operate with the Joseph McCarthy-led anti-Communist hearings in the ‘50s that landed a number of his contemporaries and collaborators on the infamous Hollywood blacklist.  A Letter to Elia touches on this thorny subject—how could it not?—but Scorsese’s focus understandably remains on the movies.  Specifically he zeroes in on Waterfront, Eden and America, America, Kazan’s personal favorite, which tells the semi-autobiographical tale of a young Greek immigrant who moves heaven and earth to make the difficult journey to America.  Talking over select clips from each of these films, Scorsese offers a stirring analysis of Kazan’s artistry while also describing in heartfelt terms how these stories affected him as a nascent movie lover.  (It’s a testament to his skill as a film historian that he’s able to find a new way to approach the much-discussed “I coulda been a contender” scene from On the Waterfront.)  The movie ends on a bittersweet note, as Scorsese talks about befriending Kazan later in life and accompanying him onstage when he was awarded his Honorary Oscar at the 1998 Academy Awards—a decision that was controversial in Hollywood and, in fact, a number of people attending the ceremony declined to applaud when Kazan took the stage.  In Scorsese’s eyes though, standing next to Kazan that night was the only way he properly repay a filmmaker whose work meant so much to him.  He honors his mentor again with this touching, heartfelt tribute.

Directed by Michael Epstein
***

A more accurate title for Michael Epstein’s lively, if somewhat cursory documentary would probably be John Lennon in the ‘70s.  While the film begins with Lennon and his wife/collaborator/support system Yoko Ono leaving England behind for a flat in New York City’s Greenwich Village, the bulk of the picture focuses on the man rather than the city.  To be fair, one of the things that’s often said about New York is that people come to the city to reinvent themselves and that’s precisely what Lennon was attempting to do in the wake of The Beatles’ earth-shattering break-up.  In that way I suppose the movie does tell a classic New York story, but even so Epstein could have spent more time exploring the city’s direct impact on Lennon’s life and music.  (It seems like a major oversight, for example, to not even mention when and why Lennon and Ono moved into their famous Upper West Side apartment in The Dakota.)  Instead, he adopts a standard “decade in the life of…” structure, while also employing a narrative throughline that’s reminiscent of a classic coming-of-age story.  As Epstein tells it, Lennon and Ono arrive in the city as fiery young revolutionaries, ready to lend their fame to social and political causes.  In between rallies, they get caught up in the headiness of ‘70s Village life—with lots of late night parties where alcohol and drugs flow freely—which eventually takes its toll on their relationship.  After enduring one humiliation too many, Ono exiles Lennon to Los Angeles (entrusting his care to one of her friends who—it’s strongly implied though never stated directly— became his mistress) where he lives for some time before returning to New York and cleans up his act, just in time to reunite with Yoko and welcome their son Sean into the world.  The latter half of the ‘70s finds Lennon happily playing the role of family man and occasional musician until his tragic 1980 murder at the hands of Mark David Chapman.  Although LennonNYC doesn’t offer a lot of new insights into Lennon’s artistry or his much-analyzed relationship with Ono (who is a producer on the film and is interviewed extensively throughout), Epstein has unearthed some terrific archival footage as well as previously unheard audio recordings, like a sweet moment where Sean and John sing along to “With a Little Help From My Friends,” which the then-five year old calls his favorite Beatles song.  More than anything though, the movie functions as a potent reminder of what a charismatic figure John Lennon was.  Passionate and thoughtful with a razor-sharp wit, his star power hasn’t dimmed at all with the passage of time.  Even in this superficial telling, Lennon’s life story remains a source of inspiration.

Directed by Anrei Ujica
***

The title of this sweeping three-hour documentary recounting the history of Romania under the reign of Nicolae Ceausescu more or less sums up the film’s strengths and limitations.

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Sweet Crude
Directed by Sandy Cioffi
**1/2

Documentary filmmakers always take a risk when they choose to make themselves characters in their movies.  Sure the approach has yielded some memorable movies—see Sherman’s March (the granddaddy of all contemporary first-person documentaries), Roger & Me, Stone Reader and Super Size Me.

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My coverage of the 2010 Tribeca Film Festival concludes with a few more capsules and a small awards ceremony.

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More from the 2010 Tribeca Film Festival

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More reviews from the 2010 Tribeca Film Festival.

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My first batch of reviews from the 2010 Tribeca Film Festival

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