The first annual "Zombiefest" was held in Pittsburgh this weekend at the Monroeville Expo Mart. Holding such an event in Pittsburgh just seems fitting; after all, the city is the background for every George Romero zombie movie (even when he chooses to film in Toronto... I'm looking at you, Land of the Dead). The event is connected with the world's largest "zombie walk," which is becoming a yearly ritual in the 'Burgh. While I wasn't there to do the walk, I did check out the exhibit hall, sit in on some panel discussions, and meet some of the actors from the Romero films.

The Expo Mart is just across the parking lot from the famed Monroeville Mall, the true star of Romero's 1978 Dawn of the Dead. The giant hall had a smattering of booths selling all sorts of zombie-wares, from old movie posters to crafts themed after the undead. The majority of folks in attendance were decked out in zombie make-up and costumes: there were zombie soldiers, clowns, sailors, pimps, and bikers. Making things more interesting was the fact that most people staying in "zombie character" while they shuffled about buying things and getting autographs. That's the kind of dedication I can get behind.

Aside from wanting to bask in the glory of all this zombie stuff, we also wanted to come to the convention to see horror author Michael A. Arnzen (who was also a professor of mine in college). Arnzen is a Bram Stoker-winning horror writer who was there as part of the Raw Dog Screaming Press booth. There were plenty of other authors in attendance, all of which participated on panels throughout the day. Each of the panels featuring writers reading excerpts from their published works, and then fielding questions from the audience. Most of the questions were actually pretty good and addressed serious topics like referencing popular culture and censorship in horror fiction. The panels were very interesting, when they weren't being interrupted by a gruff zombie voice making announcements over the P.A. system.

The main attraction of the entire event was Max Brooks, author of the instant bestseller World War Z. While I wasn't able to see the man, he did give a presentation on zombies and signed autographs for the hoards of zombie walkers Sunday afternoon. His novel, which is an oral chronicle of a future zombie outbreak, was optioned to be a movie before it was even published.

I did get to see a question and answer panel with various cast members from the first three Romero zombie films. Included on the panel were members from in the original Night of the Living Dead: Bill Hinzman (aka "Zombie #1"), George Kosana (the sheriff), Russell Streiner (Johnny), Judith O'Dea (Barbara), and Kyra Schon (that weird little girl in the basement); Dawn of the Dead: Scott H. Reiniger (Roger), David Emge (Flyboy), and Leonard Lies (machete zombie); and Day of the Dead: Jarlath Conroy (William) and Joe Pilato (Capt. Rhodes). Oh yeah, and Conrad Brooks was there, who was in The Beast of Yucca Flats and Plan 9 From Outer Space. I'm not sure why he was here.

Overall, it was a cool convention, even if it was sort of small. Hopefully in years to come, this annual event will grow to include more than just the original canon of Romero films, and hopefully attract the attention of bigger names in the zombie world (really, how can you have a "zombie convention" in Pittsburgh without George Romero himself?).

Be on the look-out for Romero's new "Dead" film, Diary of the Dead which debuted in Toronto and seems to be getting some pretty strong online buzz.

First of all, put your pants back on. This isn't about Natalie Portman, or her lovely buttocks, or her slightly-too-visible ribcage. Lost in the fanboy fervor for the notoriously skin-shy Portman nudity is the fact that this little 14-minute short, available for free on iTunes and Google Films (and possibly elsewhere by the time you read this), is the first real film from Wes Anderson since The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. Plus, it's a "prequel" to Anderson's forthcoming feature, The Darjeeling Limited. Admittedly, this only matters to you if you're a big fan of Anderson's, and have been wondering whether or not he would follow the increasingly somber tonal path he's been on.

Well... looks like he is. Hotel Chevalier -- which also features a fully-clothed Jason Schwarztman, by the way -- is a quiet, grim quarter hour. Anderson, by his account, is establishing the backstory for Darjeeling by showing why its protagonist winds up on a train in India with his two brothers (Owen Wilson and Anderson newcomer Adrien Brody, if you're wondering). Of course this is Wes Anderson, so he doesn't just tell you the story; he lets one small fragment of it unfold in front of you, and lets his cinematography and direction fill in the blanks. There's barely any dialogue in this short; but what dialogue there is oozes exposition, including one truly great line that speaks volumes about these two characters. There's a tiny bit of humor in the script, but much like Life Aquatic, it's hard to laugh when the melancholy levels are this high.

Visually, it's almost more Wes than Wes: the film couldn't be more Neoclassical if it were painted by David. I'm hoping that the Anderson style -- rigid, static framing, primary colors, heavy use of color balancing in the editing process, structured composition, and wide, fisheye shots -- doesn't turn into self-parody in the future. It's a fine line between "instantly identifiable" and "inflexible". The color tone here -- primarily the yellow-orange of low-wattage incandescent lighting -- fits the depressing mood of the short well. It's leavened a bit by a dusk-blue scene on a balcony that closes both the film and a chapter in these character's lives, but a yellow light in a window across the street metaphorically and subtly reminds us that you never truly leave your past behind, no matter how hard you try.

Hotel Chevalier is a tiny little gem. Prequel or not, it's a great example of efficient and powerful short-filmmaking, and whets the appetite for the forthcoming Darjeeling. In this case, you wing up getting more than you pay for. But it does make me worry a bit. Life Aquatic was a difficult film to like. It was an excellent film -- but it was powerfully depressing, and didn't have the sprightly charm of Bottle Rocket, nor the wry humor of Rushmore. This short is definitely a lot closer in tone to Life Aquatic than Bottle Rocket. I'd hate to see Anderson become a director who makes outstanding, fantastic films that you never want to see again after viewing...

The Sci-Fi Channel original series GHOST HUNTERS returns with all new episodes starting September 26 and every Wednesday this Fall at 9 Eastern /8 Central. And to spice up the action, be sure to tune in for their LIVE Halloween episode from Waverly Hills Sanatorium on October 31. It's sure to make your blood run cold.

Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson: plumbers by day, Ghost Hunters by night. This one-hour weekly docu-soap from the creator/executive producer of American Chopper follows a group of real-life paranormal researchers as they investigate haunted houses throughout the country, encountering every type of imaginable haunting.

Check out this exclusive clip in which Jason and Grant head down into the steam tunnels to investigate reports of unusual noises.

Do you sense a paranormal presence in your own home? Life after death has been a central belief among billions of people for millennia — and contact between this existence and the next is no more far-fetched than sending sound and pictures through the air must have seemed to the ancients. You can report evidence or request an investigation directly at the TAPS site. Sure, those spooky sounds may just be air-vent echoes or water backflow in your pipes -- if so, TAPS is qualified to tell you that, too!

Toronto Film Festival 2007

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 15

The premise of Jacques Nolot’s Avant que j’oublie (Before I Forget) is perilous: a film about a detached, cynical HIV-positive writer in his late 50’s dealing with the banal, everyday realities of life, the film on the surface seems to propagate a number of negative stereotypes regarding homosexual men of a certain age (this is the clichéd world where leering older men with money joylessly buy the services of younger men, haunt the corners of cafes and bars and endlessly complain about how empty and emotionless their lives have become). But Nolot, a prolific French actor who not only wrote and directed the film, but stars in it as well, has stripped all traces of sentimentality from his film, in turn making it a film that is as poignant as it is difficult. The third film in a trilogy supposedly depicting the gay lifestyle in relentlessly matter-of-fact, the film itself can be hard to sit through—the long, seemingly endless shots patiently capture the most banal of occurrences and moments—counteract potentially sensationalistic material (one example: a business transaction can end with “what do I owe you?” “Nothing. I want you” and pants are indifferently taken off and a blowjob commences). A film more fascinating to ponder after the fact than while actually watching, I walked out of the screening not liking it much, but my feelings have become much more favorable in the days that have since passed.

New Wave master Jacques Rivette has certainly confounded both admirers and detractors with his period piece Ne touchez pas la hache (Don’t Touch the Axe). At first glance it seems that in his old age Rivette (who turned 79 in March) has gone the route of Truffaut and succumbed to the “cinema of quality” that he and his fellow critics and filmmakers in the Cahiers du cinema crowd railed against so famously in the 1960’s. A seemingly straightforward adaptation of a Balzac short story about the tempestuous relationship that springs between a gruff general (played by Guillaume Depardieu) and a willowy, headstrong duchess (Jeanne Balibar), this was the film that baffled me the most out of all of the films that I saw at TIFF. Not because it’s a difficult or extremely complex film, but because I was completely at a loss as to why I liked it so much. But some time for reflection and a really insightful article in the last issue of Film Comment (currently is not available online) helped me to realize that a large part of what makes Rivette’s film so fascinating is how he dissects and depicts the mechanics of performance and theatricality, but instead of bracketing it in the form of the theater-within-a-film that define much of his most famous work, he strips away the framing device and lets the “play” perform as the film itself. Depardieu and particularly Balibar are stunning, turning in extremely broad, theatrical performances that are at the same time sketched with authentic little moments, emotions and mannerisms. The film is being released stateside as The Duchess of Langeais, and I for one will jump at the chance at taking another look at this dazzling, multi-faceted film.

Finishing out the festival for me was the provocative Help Me Eros, written and directed by Tsai Ming-liang regular Lee Kang-sheng. Seeming taking up the fascination with naked bodies and sexual positions of last year’s Shortbus, what sets Lee’s film apart is the direction he takes the material, replacing Mitchell’s endearing optimism with a bleak pessimism. Revsolving around a number of loosely-connected individuals who all are experiencing depression in varying degrees, we follow them as they attempt to use sex as a means to reach out to someone else (sound familiar?). The film looks amazing—the neon lights, gaudy colors and deep shadows of urban Asia looks as voluptuously beguiling as it has for many an Asian auteur—and after adjusting to the sad rhythms of Lee’s film it becomes a moving examination of how despite all of the technology and comforts of modern life humans still manage to feel as isolated as ever.

***

So ended my TIFF 2007 experience, an amazing ten days filled with a really high percentage of excellent (or at least compelling, at the very least) cinema. I’ve learned a lot about the festival experience—the buying of tickets, the structuring of showtimes, my own personal capacity for consecutive film watching, etc.—and look forward to taking part in another major film festival, and hope to do it sooner rather than later. If my return to school was not an inevitability next fall, I’d say I’d without a doubt be back for TIFF 2008. I’ll be covering the much more small-scale San Diego Film Festival next weekend for DVD Verdict, and I suppose that will have to suffice for now.

Thanks for reading,

-jesse

Toronto Film Festival 2007

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 14

In Eric Rohmer’s Les amours d’Astrée et de Céladon (The Romance of Astrea and Celadon), the ethereal, almost magical pastoral landscapes of 17th century France are treated with such reverence (the area is now long since destroyed by urbanization, a lengthy opening title card laments) that I just automatically assumed that Rohmer was setting us up as parody of Hónore d’Urfé famous, five-volume novel. But as the film goes on, and the beautiful but poor shepherdess Astréa (Stéphanie Crayencour) spurns her lover (the equally beautiful but wealthy Céladon, played by Andy Gillet) that results in his suicide attempt, it becomes obvious that Rohmer is playing the material straight, asking—or more accurately, demanding—the we the audience put aside our postmodern, Monty Python-induced cynicism of all depictions of the Middle Ages and buy wholeheartedly into the courtly love tradition where it’s perfectly plausible that Céladon, after surviving his suicide attempt, refuses to reunite with the heartbroken Astréa because of an offhand comment she had made during their lovers quarrel. The film takes its time, indulging in digressions and meandering in and out of erudite philosophical discussions. But when the film hits its final third, and the reunion of the two lovers seems inevitable, Rohmer switches modes and the film is suddenly a light on its feet, comical game of cat-and-mouse, complete with pagan rituals, cross-dressing antics and gender confusion. At the final, inevitable kiss closes the film I was shocked to realize how subtly Rohmer had built to a rapturous concluding crescendo—I exited the theater beaming like an idiot. A delight, and without a doubt my biggest surprise of the festival.

One of my biggest regrets of the festival is not getting an opportunity to explore the Canadian Retrospective program, celebrating the work of director and cinematographer Michel Brault, in more depth. The one token entry I was able to catch, and one of my “holy-grail” films for a while now, was Edgar Morin and Jean Rouch’s groundbreaking Chronique d’un eté (Chronicle of a Summer), in which Brault served as cinematographer. As a Brault biographer noted, introducing the film, Chronique is an extremely uneven film, a series of dialogues and interviews among a swath of Parisian society during the summer of 1960 (the biographer rather cattily commented that most of the more interesting segments can be attributed to Brault). Admittedly, the film does start out very slowly, and I found myself fighting the urge to doze. But as the film goes on these rather extended clips of interviews (which was later termed cinéma vérité), at turns funny, touching, even harrowing, all become extremely compelling, and the influence of the style can be observed in everything from reality television to “confessional” YouTube clips. It’s more of a film to admire than to really love—but the film does manage to transcend its dusty historical importance through the reverberations, for better or worse, that we are still being felt today.

Two days before I left for Toronto I received in the mail via Greencine a DVD of Ingmar Bergman’s 1960 Oscar-winning The Virgin Spring. I sent it back the next day, unseen, hoping that I’d be able to get a ticket for TIFF’s showing of the film, being presented by its star, legendary actor Max von Sydow. Maybe the act of blind faith served as a good luck charm, because I was indeed able to get a ticket for the screening, ultimately one of the highlights of the festival. The film itself is a return to Medieval Scandinavia and many of the themes and elements that Bergman first explored so brilliantly several years before in The Seventh Seal resurface in varying degrees. Inspired by a traditional Swedish folk tale, the film revolves around the tragic circumstances surrounding the murder or the beautiful, petted daughter of a wealthy farmer played by von Sydow, and (inevitably, since this is Bergman we’re talking about here) the crisis of faith it inspires. Dramatically shot by Sven Nykvist (it was the first of many collaborations between director and cinematographer), the film is certainly not among my favorite Bergman films, but contains a lot of moving, quintessential Bergman moments, particularly von Sydow’s harrowing spiritual (and physical) breakdown. Astutely, von Sydow called the film “a drama of the two faith,” the clash of the “heathen” codes of faith being replaced by Christianity.

Certainly the highlight of the evening was the hour or so Q&A time that followed with von Sydow—I took four pages of notes, frantically trying to capture the eloquent actor’s comments on everything from the beginnings of his career through his famous collaborations with Bergman and the friendship he had with the director. I hope to type these up in readable form, and I’ll post them as soon as I do.

-jesse