In the second part of my conversation with filmmaker Whit Stillman (this is continued from: A cup of coffee in which director Whit Stillman and I reconsider my negative review of ‘Damsels In Distress’), we touch on context and ways of approaching his last film, Damsels in Distress, as well as one particularly good review by a local colleague and another completely wrong review, which was not mine. I was quite critical about the film (‘Damsels in Distress:’ Stillman dumbs it down after almost a generation in hiding), and he was game to talk about it while he visited Miami as a juror for the Miami International Film Festival, this past March.

In this part of our conversation, we also touch on where I come from as a film critic, something that I have noticed people like about my reviews but, at the same time, also seems to narrow my vision (I’m working on it): my approach to cinema as an art. Not to discredit my criticism or any film criticism for that matter, but there are many factors to consider outside a movie besides the work itself when it comes to criticism. Any work of art resides in the perceived reality of the viewer. Whatever baggage a viewer brings to a work can affect how the work is received, from whether the viewer watches a film in the morning or at night to the mood they bring with them into the theater to the amount of knowledge and life experience they interpret the movie with.

I try to look at technical things but also consider zeitgeist and theory from filmmaking to literature to psychology as well as anything distinct about the filmmakers involved in the making of a movie. Still, my own experiences and biases also inform my reviews. There are times when I do have a chance to mull things over for a month before writing. For my review of Moonrise Kingdom, which was positive (‘Moonrise Kingdom’: a different kind of Wes Anderson film) I had a month. My initial reaction was that the film felt cartoonish, distant and over-stylized. But with time, I later considered it the most innocent and honest film of Wes Anderson’s career. It turned out to be one of the most popular reviews on my blog, which says something about my final opinion.

damsels-in-distress-poster-500x739With Damsels, I knew the film had some value, as I had written a review that was more mixed than negative. I was prepared to see it again in the theater, but never found the time to do so. Stillman told me it was in and out at the only multiplex showing it in Miami in about a week. I had even felt it worthy of recommending to my wife who, much to my delight, came to admire Stillman’s work after I had introduced her to his earlier films. As I had expected, she enjoyed Damsels much more than I did.

After I first saw Stanley Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut in the theater, I left confused and unsure of what I had experienced, but I knew the film was trying to say something profound. I now consider it one of Kubrick’s most underrated and misunderstood masterpieces after more than 20 re-viewings later and a seminar paper on the film, which I used to illustrate Lacanian theory during my Master’s studies for an MA in American Literature. With anything, opinions can and do change. It’s happened even more profoundly with music with this writer. Therefore, I have no shame reconsidering any film I critique, much less Stillman’s last film (Terrence Malick, maybe you’ll be next [Film review: With ‘To the Wonder’ Malick loses sight of cinema for message]?). What an opportunity to have the director sit with you and consider your criticisms with an open, curious and civil mind.

Here is the second half of our recorded conversation from about two months back. We went Dutch for coffee at a Dunkin’ Donuts off Alton Road in Miami Beach:

Hans Morgenstern: One thing I am wondering about is your intention in the film.

Whit Stillman: There’s a very serious intention in the film.

But I mean, is it a cultural criticism of today?

Of course. All the films are. But I think it’s a kind of life preserver. I think there’s a very serious intention in the film where there is all this kind of romance of suicide, the romance of depression, in college. And the way most people deal with this is to therapize it, take it really seriously and re-dramatize it. And, actually, to get out of those moods for people, when it’s not clinical mental illness, is to distract, to make active, to do these things, and then, with the passage of time, they very often get out of that cast of mind. So the things in the film we presented as a joke, but actually there’s quite a bit of truth. In fact, I think, there’s a quite important practicing psychiatrist from one of the Ivy League schools who saw the film late in its run in New York, which lasted to the 17th week down at the Cinema Village, she came up to me and said, “You know, I think the things they are doing in this film are better than what we do in the university. I think this is better.” So, they’re really depressed, everything is terrible, you know, taking a shower, cleaning up, putting on— for a girl, maybe for a guy— putting on some good scent, dancing, getting out, socializing, cup of coffee, you know, distraction. Distraction activity, hygiene distraction activity, order, work, these sort of things get people out of themselves.

But is distraction really the cure for their problems?

Yeah, it is the cure because time is the cure, and distraction is the entry ramp for time. Gerwig and Adam Brody in 'Damsels in Distress.' Image courtesy of Sony Pictures ClassicsSo I think it’s a movie that’s serious by virtue of its intentions on all kinds of levels, but I can’t announce that because I like things that are not obvious, and people can take it as they want to take it or take it as silly as they want to think it is. It is a very silly film.

Well, that’s the kind of film I usually love because when I walked into the theater…

How’d you see it? Was it a press screening?

It was a press screening at a cinema.

Was [“Miami Herald” film critic] Rene Rodriguez there?

Rene was there.

Rene gave it a really nice review, coz he didn’t like [Last Days of] Disco that much.

We corresponded about it, and he said, if you like the TV show “Parks and Recreation,” you will like this film. Is that a fair comparison?

Yeah, well, Aubrey [Plaza] is the same in “Parks and Recreation,” has nice spirit. It’s not a show I follow, but, from what I’ve seen, it’s OK.

Maybe I did come at it too cynical. The thing I know is that when I was finishing considering it, which was probably too soon, was that, yeah, I do want to see it again, I do want to recommend this to my wife, and she did see it, and she loved it. So what I predicted about it was right.

And she just saw it this past week?

A few weeks ago.

Before we met up? Oh, cool. Interesting. Because it had been on the Starz thing? Do you feel your blog affects attendance?

Yeah, insofar as it is shared. Miami Beach Cinematheque shares my reviews. So he’s a big champion of my blog, and so is [The Miami International Film Festival Director] Jaie [Laplante]. In fact, this year, the director of Bonsai, which was a big award winner last year, is at the festival to give a seminar, and I loved Bonsai. In fact, Jaie said my review was his favorite review the film had received.

What’s Bonsai like?

Bonsai is actually based on a pretty famous Chilean novel, and it’s about this down and out writer who decides to take up a job to write this novel for this famous writer, Bonsai poster artand he ends up incorporating his own personal relationship into the book, and it jumps between the writing of that book, and his memories as a college kid, so there’s this great sort of self-actualization in writing going on there (Read the review: Film Review: ‘Bonsai’ breathes life into art).

Sounds great. I have a feeling your taste may be more art film than mine.

Yeah, I tend to get that.

Which is good. Someone has to do it (laughs).

I am part of that whole group, the Florida Film Critics Circle, with Rene and Connie [Ogle] at “the Herald.” They know I have this small blog but that I’m covering something different in cinema.

Rene, his review— thank God we got that— it was great. It was syndicated all over the place. That review appears all over the place, and he wrote a nice review. It’s a solid review and a kind of way-in review that tells people how to get into the film. One review that kinda annoyed me, and it’s kinda important, is this one guy who always, always attacks my films. I don’t know what his problem is. But he started this whole thing making a big deal about two posters that are on the walls. He said, the director was telling us, because he has the Lola Montes poster in the girls’ room and the Grand Illusion poster in the other thing [Xavier’s apartment],

D06_IMG_1265.jpghe’s telling us this and he’s telling us that and his intention is this and his intention is that and all this hogwash. The thing is, there’s so many things you can say about a film. Why presume or state something that’s not knowable by him because I had no intention with those posters at all. I have no feeling for those films, none. It’s just that we were really hard up for posters and any art that looked non-ridiculous. No one would give us posters for free, coz we’re not going to pay for posters in a low-budget film. I mean, it’s advertising. They should want it up. So for the suicide center, I went to a place, and I had a contact, I had a connection, so I asked for, you know, the big old-fashioned musicals like Showboat, Guys and Dolls

Iconic ones.

We asked for the right to use the posters in the Suicide Center, and they said, “Oh, no, we’ll charge you a purchasing fee of $1,000.” We’re not gonna spend a cent. If we have to, we’ll pay the $10 and put it up on a poster board, but that’s about it, and so I was stuck. From my old illustration agency we got some stuff, and then we were stuck for other things, and then, by accident, I ran into the guy from Criterion at a party, and I asked him about the posters. He said, “Yes, but you’ll also need permission from Studio Canal and Rialto.” This is the way it always is, “Yes, but.” But, the thing is, I knew they were brother and sister, the Halperns, who I know really well, so I just sent them quick emails, and within a day I had permission and Criterion sent us all these posters. And there are more posters than that up. The guy didn’t see the Godard poster that was up. It wasn’t a very good-looking poster, so we just had it in the background in Xavier’s apartment. And I go into the set and the art department has put up the Grand Illusion poster, and I wasn’t very happy about that. I didn’t want it that present.

It really draws your eye. I do remember seeing the Grand Illusion poster.

That one really draws your eye. The Lola Montes thing he mentioned, you practically can’t see that. Only someone who studied the Criterion artwork would have noticed that because it’s only half of the image. lola-montes-criterion-collection-coverI love the artist who did the image. In fact, I was thinking when it came to do the poster for the film, I was over at the Criterion art department trying to get their ideas. I just love that guy’s work. But [lowers voice] there’s no intention at all. I was thinking, well, it’s plausible… could the character have this on his wall? Well, yeah, he could have that on his wall. It’s possible.

But it’s background. It’s nothing to the theme of your film, right?

Nothing on the walls is supposed to be focal. For instance, my university daughter still hasn’t got her posters back because I took all her posters from her wall because she had to decamp from her room and so the posters were in my apartment, and they were by an artist friend who I had represented, and so I just took her posters and gave them to the art department and said, “Put these in the girls’ room.” And, anyway, he built this whole review about my pretentiousness in my references.

Well, you see, that’s wrong. And they were just these two quick background images?

It’s wrong on so many levels. It’s wrong on so many levels, and then he pounds us in this really important review. He pounds us through the whole thing. Why kill a film based on a presumption out of thin air?

I hope you didn’t get the idea that my review was all negative.

No, your review was not bad. I had remembered it when you first mentioned it to me, but I went back and looked at it. I kind of enjoyed that I didn’t know where it was going to go. I kinda enjoyed the A, B, C thing. I, of course, I thought “A” right away: not older but definitely more cynical.

Hans Morgenstern

(Copyright 2013 by Hans Morgenstern. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.)

2013_MIFF_POSTERThe coverage for the 30th Annual Miami International Film Festival has begun in earnest. I hope to document all the coverage I contribute on this blog and highlight some films I find noteworthy or even not so noteworthy.

A couple of small things already appeared yesterday in the “Miami New Times.” They include a movie review and a conservation with the festival’s director. The titles below are hot links to the articles:

MIFF’s Jaie Laplante Talks Cinema at the Intersection of Hollywood and Latin America

Guess which one of the three reviews in this article I wrote:

MIFF 2013: Murder, Marriage, and Madness in This Week’s Biggest Movies

The meat of the coverage on Independent Ethos, however, shall be the result of taking in the following screenings/events (all titles are hotlinks to tickets and trailers):

Friday, March 1

Saturday, March 2



The hunt still

Sunday, March 3rd

1:00 PM:



7:00 PM: THE HYPNOTIST (with Career Achievement Tribute to LASSE HALLSTRÖM) (Hypnotisören)

Monday, March 4th

Tuesday, March 5th
7:00 PM: NO


Wednesday, March 6th



Thursday, March 7th

Friday, March 8th


Saturday, March 9th
11:00 AM: CONVERSATION WITH CRISTIAN JIMENEZ (the director of Bonsai, which I reviewed here)



Sunday, March 10th

My most anticipated film of the festival, see the trailer:

Hans Morgenstern

(Copyright 2012 by Hans Morgenstern. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.)

Chilean director Cristián Jiménez mixes a heartfelt appreciation for literature and young love in the ingeniously crafted Bonsai, capturing how tightly life and art entangle themselves, both reflecting and defining one another. The film feels as if it unfolds in rapid, brief, arbitrary scenes. At first, the array of quick vignettes seem too shallow and cute for the film’s own good. However, as the film barrels towards its last scene, it explodes in an exuberant instant of all-things-are-connected with a masterful subtlety I have not seen since the best films of Eric Rohmer. Those with an appreciation for both living-life-in-the-moment and subtle art films should find Bonsai a delight.

The film Follows Julio (Diego Noguera) as he transitions from lackadaisical literature major to novelist. In an effort to weed out the “delinquents” from the “students,” a professor asks his class, who among them have read Proust.  As his classmates raise their hands in gestures loaded with varying degrees of knowledge and bullshit, Julio looks about and joins in with hesitation. It makes for a slight but brilliant set-up of character. Bonsai continues to unfold in similar dense but brief scenes filled with meaning and characterization. The film flip-flops between Julio’s life as a student to his older self as a writer until the moment arrives when he learns that Proust does matter … on a wholly personal level.

Fittingly to his character, Julio practically comes into writing his book by accident. He takes a job transcribing long-hand notebooks for a well-known local novelist, only identified as Gazmuri (Alejandro Zambra). However, the writer bails on him, complaining Julio had been over-charging him. In order to impress his neighbor/lover Blanca (Trinidad González), who expresses an interest in Gazmuri, Julio pretends to continue the job. He goes as far as purchasing the same blue notebooks and blue ink Gazmuri had used to pull off his ruse. When Julio tells Blanca that Gazmuri keeps postponing things as they work, she rationalizes that Gazmuri must have a fear of failing. “I think failure is underestimated,” Julio replies, defensively. Indeed, here is a work (be it the film or Julio’s book) whose inspiration seems to be failure. Julio’s story is about a failed relationship and its possibilities. He is the product of a failed eduction, which grants him the audacity to take on the writing of a novel. Soon enough, an original story forms based on Blanca’s criticisms of the text and Julio’s memories of eight years back to his relationship with a classmate in his literature class.

The director does an ingenious narrative trick in Bonsai. He starts the film when Julio meets Emilia (Nathalia Galgani), the person who would become the muse of his book. The film then jumps ahead eight years to the meeting between Gazmuri and Julio. After Julio decides to continue writing the book in order to fool Blanca, the director explores further flashbacks. As the names in Gazmuri/Julio’s book are interchangeable with his past life, it loads these flashbacks with the implication that these are now more than memories. They carry a sort of nostalgia that may well exist in another dimension, one of memory mixed with fiction. As only the magic of cinema can conjure, the arrangement of the splices of the film breathe a depth into the story regarding memory and experience.

In one of the earlier flashbacks, Julio helps Emilia move into the home of a friend, Bárbara (Gabriela Arancibia). The flashbacks occur only a few times but last long enough so that when Bonsai moves ahead or back, it feels a bit discombobulating, as the viewer is granted enough time to grow attached to the characters during each turn forward or back. During these few trips back in time, the director takes his time exploring Julio and Emilia’s relationship, offering many beautiful shots out in nature as well as the bedroom.There is one resonant shot of a muddy, shallow brook under a bridge loaded with symbolism. The waves rush over the small lumps of rocks just below the surface of the cloudy, brown water: the passage of time rushes over the solid but obscured and therefore amorphous memories of the past.

Just as Jiménez knows how to capture resonant, little details, he knows how to maximize the slightest of scenes. During one brief vignette, Julio searches for a book at the top shelf in a book store. He stands at the top of a rolling ladder as someone at the bottom moves the ladder a little too fast. He tells him to stop after he overshoots the book he was seeking and then asks the man at the bottom to move the ladder back again. Once again he overshoots. The scene only lasts a moment and seems to come out of nowhere. It offers a slight, little moment of slapstick in a mostly serious film but also captures the random quality of memory. In the scene that follows, Emilia tries to talk to Julio as he reads a book. She asks him why he bothers to study Latin. “There are things that have value because they serve no purpose,” he responds. The same can be said about these slight moments in the past that define a life and bring value to memories, his source for his future book.

By the same token, Jiménez also leaves out certain details. During the first flashback, it just “feels” as if Julio has moved in with Emilia and Bárbara. Maybe he has or he has not physically moved in. Such a detail would only bring out the banal and pander to the superficial need to explain the action. None of the moments on-screen in Bonsai are banal; they are resonant, like memories worth remembering. The trio eat at home together and share the bathroom, much to Bárbara’s annoyance. The lovers catch up on Proust by reading the aptly named In Search of Lost Time aloud before going to bed. As Julio reads lines by Proust describing how, in sleep, his own work seems to entwine with his unconscious, Emilia protests that the “heavy” words make her feel tired.

When Julio finishes his book, eight years later, he has an epiphany during the maintenance of a Bonsai tree. Only after he finishes his book does he realize that “the point of [Bonsai] is imitating nature,” similar to his approach to his novel. Around this time Julio bumps into Bárbara on the street. She will soon reveal just how grimly prophetic his book is. When he goes back to read the lines from In Search of Lost Time that Emilia had complained put her to sleep, they finally move him. In the end, the director not only illustrates how life and art entangle, but also how both bring meaning to one another. Art is personal, and there lies its beauty.

Hans Morgenstern

Bonsai is not rated, runs 95 minutes and is Spanish with English subtitles. It opens in South Florida on Friday, May 18, at 4:15 p.m. at the Tower Theater in Miami and at 8:40 p.m., at the Miami Beach Cinematheque, which provided a screener for the purposes of this review.

(Copyright 2012 by Hans Morgenstern. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without permission.)