To anyone who knows it only from their own knock-kneed, deskbound performance in the schoolroom, Bill Naughton’s drama SPRING AND PORT WINE sticks in the memory as a dry, two-dimensional tale of domestic patriarchy – a ”Peter and Jane” introduction to themes of social deprivation and teen pregnancy.

It is human nature to shun in adulthood the texts that were forced upon us as schoolchildren, and yet anyone who rediscovers the play in celluloid form will agree that James Mason brings far more to the central role than James Gore of 1SF, or the indeed the shouty local amateur theatre troupe. Director Peter Hammond’s take on Bill “ALFIE” Naughton’s screenplay is widely held in great affection by those viewers who lived in the North of England in the late 60s. It is frequently celebrated as an authentic depiction of Northern family life, at that time when the survivors of the Depression grew up and found themselves clashing with the privileged and ungrateful youth of the swinging 60s. However, Naughton’s focus was on the microcosm of the working-class kitchen, not the wider world of the socio-political. The patriarch of the piece preaches respect for the struggles of the forefather, and is dismissed as a nostalgic old ass. In all its incarnations, this classic is treasured as a nostalgic indulgence as much as it is appreciated by English teachers for its depiction of strong family values.

“[...]Perfection is not an aim. An attitude means a style. A style means an attitude.”

The cinematic adaptation of SPRING AND PORT WINE brings gingham and Vim to the kitchen sink, and its grit manifests in moral fortitude, not in grimy dystopia. No angry young men in this Bolton – only cheeky chappies and good-hearted labourers. The story covers a whole weekend, but it’s not Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. SPRING AND PORT WINE adheres to the principles of the Free Cinema: “No film can be too personal. The image speaks. Sound amplifies and comments. Size is irrelevant. Perfection is not an aim. An attitude means a style. A style means an attitude.” This rosy yet plausible family dynamic will bring great satisfaction to anyone who has ever been frustrated by the contrived deceit and impotence of a 20th century soap opera. The British Association for the Advancement of Science found that Boltonians are the friendliest people in Britain, and production designer Reece Pemberton reflects this in the set design – he illustrates the story with a pretty clutter of red brick, jaunty rooves and bright paint.

The interior decoration throws pattern against pattern as though it were deliberately contriving to madden – this was a conceit of production design in Park Chan-Wook’s OLDBOY and in recent seasons of the UK “Big Brother”, used in both cases to unsettle and disorientate those trapped within the walls. Of course the actual reason for such outrageous interior decoration was more due to necessity and the making do with tag ends of wallpaper (although one has to wonder whether the “yellow wallpaper” effect can exacerbate domestic rows). The open country and winding waterways of Lancashire ensconce the newly built council houses and busy streets just as the Crompton parents temper and protect their children’s youthful revolt with enduring love. The film opens on a group of girls who skip to a loom, dancing to its cheerful clatter as they celebrate a weaver’s wedding with wine and cheese. This North is authentic but light hearted, pre-empting the “aren’t common people cute?” appeal of more recent productions such as “Shameless” and THE FULL MONTY.

Mason might have been born in Huddersfield, but he subsequently played Brutus, Rommel, Nemo, Humbert Humbert and a baddy in NORTH BY NORTHWEST.

Theatrical portrayals often exaggerate the male characters of the play as bullies, the women and children as hysterics. The central character of Rafe Crompton is usually interpreted quite simply as fearsome, bigoted, tyrannical. (It’s a safe assumption that Naughton named him after the inventor of the revolutionary spinning mule). In the intimacy of a film set the performances are by necessity more subtle. Although there is great passion, any anger is tempered by much love, laughter and loyalty – and most of all, a great capacity for forgiveness. Mason’s Crompton is an apple cheeked, methodical, old-fashioned father. When his daughter defies his authority for the first time, his response is firm and strict but his eyes show both sorrow for lost law and order, and faith in a loving future. Perhaps the international superstar Mason is bringing too much openness and compassion to the character – in effect flattening the arc of the story. Mason might have been born in Huddersfield, but he subsequently played Brutus, Rommel, Nemo, Humbert Humbert and a baddy in NORTH BY NORTHWEST. Is he the egg that spoils the pudding? Crompton usually treads the boards as an old goat who will surely disown his youngest when he finds out why she is off her kippers, and his actual reaction comes as a soft blow – whereas Mason has a twinkle in his eye from the very start.

Rafe Crompton’s understandable tyranny towards the telly has him urging his family to switch off the TV set and do something less boring instead.

If the warmth and candour of the Crompton family does not sit well with an English audience, it is worth bearing in mind that Naughton grew up in 1920s Lancashire as part of a thriving Irish immigrant community, and his experience of Bolton life was one of solidarity and fellow-feeling. No wonder that his fictionalised recreation of the neighbourhood was gentle and colourful, with no trace of what he described in his autobiography as “the cold uncommunicative English stare”. The focal point of the Bible in SPRING AND PORT WINE is of course neither an Irish nor a Catholic reference, and yet it symbolises Naughton’s value of the spiritual enrichment of daily life. Rafe Crompton’s use of the Bible to put his weedy young son Harold on mock-trial in the living room can be seen either as an act of bullying aggression, or as a father trying to make the point that his strength and spiritual leadership of the family should not be undermined by deceit, however trivial.

Pivotal points in the play touch on the hunger strikes and crises of poverty that marked the mid-20s but Naughton concerns himself more with the small world of the family dinner table, and the ramifications for society where 30s deprivation meets 60s depravation. In the spring of 1954 the Bolton media predicted that half the homes in town would soon own a television set, and so they did – and as SPRING AND PORT WINE shows, a television was often a compulsory and crippling albatross for families such as the Cromptons’ impoverished neighbours who live on tripe and gravy, and can barely spare an egg for an unexpected guest. Rafe Crompton’s understandable tyranny towards the telly has him urging his family to switch off the TV set and do something less boring instead.

Peter Hammond’s SPRING AND PORT WINE has a tenderness that might turn you off, and might be seen as a soft and unconvincing Utopia that does not sit well in the hard heart of Bolton. If so… get thee to Coronation Street, you cold fish.

This article originally appeared in issue 29 of Vertigo Magazine.

Johannes Roberts, hailing from Cambridge, is quickly becoming one of the horror directors of the decade and his new film STORAGE 24, written by and starring Noel Clarke (KIDULTHOOD, DOGHOUSE), is set to become one of the most notable films of the summer. Following his first hit feature F a lot is to be expected from Johannes in STORAGE 24. Johannes’ future is looking bright, and I took the opportunity to catch up with him recently.

Jack McCurdy: You directed Sanitarium at the age of 23. Was it always an ambition to start directing your first feature from such a young age?

Johannes Roberts: I am a control freak and can’t work for anyone else. I left university and just wanted to do my own thing.

JMc: What films or directors would you say have influenced your style most in making films around the horror genre?

JR: Oh, I’m just obsessed with John Carpenter as a writer-director and composer, and Stephen King as a story teller – I’m a big fan of a lot of the adaptations.

JMc: The use of sound is one of the key components to a good thriller or horror film, which is noticeable in F. How highly do you regard the use of sound in your films?

JR: Sound and music is key in horror. I grew up watching Carpenter movies and he uses such simple music to such good effect. Argento is the same.

JMc: In F would you say the aim was to highlight the “hooligans” and their behaviour, or more how the adults handle themselves under the circumstances?

JR: Definitely the latter – I was very interested in watching how these so-called pillars of society would react under this situation.

It was so fucking fast. It was crazy. We had to shoot four or five times the speed.

JMc: You gave your students the opportunity to help with F, was there any specific reason for this?

JR: Honestly, I had no money. I made the film on peanuts. I needed them. They were amazing though. It was one of the best shoots I have ever done.

JMc: ROADKILL was made for TV. How does TV film differentiate from feature film, and did this present any challenges to you?

JR: It was so fucking fast. It was crazy. We had to shoot four or five times the speed. It was also weird in that it had a budget of 1.6 million compared to F which had a budget of 100k yet I had less actual money on screen with ROADKILL – it all went on union wages et cetera. I actually couldn’t afford some of the people and effects that I had on F for ROADKILL. It was madness!

JMc: STORAGE 24 was written by Noel Clarke. What was it like to work with Noel after his stamp had been made with the teen classic KIDULTHOOD and featuring as Mickey in Dr Who?

JR: Noel’s great. Very professional. He was a dream to work with. Once he had decided in his head that I was going to be okay as a director he just switched off and let me do my thing. It was a really good relationship. He allowed himself to be put out there as an actor as well. We played him as a dull wimp – that’s a real risk for an actor but it paid off.

JMc: What can we expect from STORAGE 24 in comparison to your previous projects?

JR: It certainly has similarities with F in terms of the one location but it has a much bigger budget and a lot of humour. To me it feels a bit like GREMLINS in its tone. I went quite retro. The alien is incredible. You’ll not have seen a movie quite like this before.

STORAGE 24 is set to be released on the 29th June.

It opens with a bright-faced youngster explaining the crisis of peak oil and how this makes consumer-based economies unsustainable. He then explains the concept of ‘transition’, the driving idea of the film: creating community-based green economies, which are self-sufficient and sustainable. Its cards are on the table and presumably so are yours by this point – if you’re not already keen on this idea, it seems like the documentary won’t do much to change your mind. The film reads like a roadmap for setting up your own transition group, and its participants seem very much persuaded of their own methods. But it’s not hard to see why, with the outcomes of their work displayed so convincingly.

..participants seem very much persuaded of their own methods. But it’s not hard to see why, with the outcomes of their work displayed so convincingly.

The film jumps all around the world, displaying ‘transition’ groups at various stages of altering their communities. Moss Side in Manchester shows the organisational stage and the impulses that drive the groups’ creators. Ali Mohamed explains that they recruit new members by focusing on interpersonal relations and community-based transformation. Then the Whitney Avenue Urban Farm in Massachusetts shows us that one can “dress like a punk, garden, and still be cool”. The urban farmers here grow food in the back yards of vacant houses, which they give free to local food banks. Lorna Taylor, a local resident, sheds a tear of joy that what was once a near-ghetto has become the envy of nearby communities.

IN TRANSITION 2.0 shows that the groups themselves are not immutable. Some groups grow to self-celebration: colourful street parades in costumes made from recycled products show off togetherness in environmental issues. Another group from Lancaster explains how the best intentions of community groups can often turn sour, with neighbourly bitchiness taking over the primary objectives of green sustainability.

Other groups show even more novel and exciting ideas: a consumer-owned grocery shop; a locally-owned solar energy company; a ‘bread bond’, where consumer loans pay for the bakery premises and the investors get their return in literal bread, and more. Some of the participants interviewed run the risk of sounding self-important, while others are humbly aware of being part of something much larger than themselves.

The documentary is often visually delicious…

The documentary is often visually delicious, with close-up montages of smiling children contrasted at long-distance with beautiful destruction after an earthquake in New Zealand. One commentator describes the theory of transition as a “detox for the West”, pitching it as a mid-point between unconcerned governments and ineffective individuals, masking its own effectiveness by “cheerful disclaimer” at the end.

The approach that HAPPY takes is different and this is clear from the beginning. Rather than the standard exposition of busy cities and grumpy-looking people (as if we don’t see this enough) and the enigmatic voiceover asking “what really makes us tick?”, we are dropped right in. The film’s main message is made clear right from its opening: happiness is not the product of the acquisition of wealth and comfort, but family and community. Manoj Singh, the first of several people interviewed, drives a rickshaw in Calcutta and lives in poverty in a slum. Yet, he describes being filled with joy on a daily basis at the sight of his son’s face. The insinuation is not that others would not be joyful seeing their children, but that they would despair at living in a shack made of wood and tarpaulin. “My house is good”, says Singh.

The film’s main message is made clear right from its opening: happiness is not the product of the acquisition of wealth and comfort…

So the film continues, tackling each issue with equal parts science and spirituality. Talking heads explain the psychology of happiness from various perspectives, while the human interest element is explored through different characterful cultural perspectives. Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi elucidates his theory of “flow” – optimal happiness through sports-induced dopamine release – before one character waxes beautifully about the spirituality of surfing, fittingly cut to rolling waves. We are shown life in a co-housing project in Denmark, where community-based living and cooperation influences the residents to consider the whole village their family. HAPPY’s resident neuroscientists then explain how helping others releases dopamine in the much same way as drugs like cocaine do.

…resident neuroscientists then explain how helping others releases dopamine in the much same way as drugs like cocaine do.

HAPPY has its sadder moments however, displaying our societal ills. This even shocked me, as the film is overwhelmingly upbeat. Some graphs and brief history explain that the ratio of money acquisition to happiness is rather out of joint. Our societies (the film is clearly aimed at an Anglo-American audience) are shown to be centred around ‘extrinsic goals’ or those external to you – money, status, image – while the intrinsic goals of close relationships and personal growth are eschewed. The nadir comes as one woman explains ‘karoshi’, the Japanese phenomenon of working oneself to a young death.

Positivity returns however, with force. HAPPY is encouraging and makes one think about the active practise of happiness and compassion. Roko Belic’s direction is to-the-point, but not achingly minimal, nor visually flashy. HAPPY lives up to the title; I have never heard so many people laughing at a documentary in a cinema and I definitely left my seat with a big dopey smile on my face. Must be contagious.

Every year, households, retailers and food services waste enough food to satisfy the hunger of the world’s malnourished at least twice over. Whether or not you like statistics, the imagery used in TASTE THE WASTE speaks volumes. Valentin Thurn’s documentary asks why civilised societies throw away so much food, and how we can stop, or at least offset, the effects of our shameful waste. 

It’s not just about supermarket wheelie bins full of fresh food – taking a broader view, the water used to irrigate food destined for the dump, and the fuel used to transport it around the globe, all contributes to the cumulative waste. TASTE THE WASTE takes us around the world, illustrating the scale of the issue not just with grotesque foodscapes but with anecdotal evidence. Veronique, who works in a Parisian foodbank, comes from a village in Cameroon which is in such a state of poverty that its families can’t afford to buy any of the bananas they grow and export. Most of these bananas will end up on a dumpster on the other side of the world. This kind of story transcends waste – it’s an act of perversity.

10% of rich countries’ greenhouse gas emissions come from growing food that is never eaten.

We see examples of good practice as well as bad – Japanese farmers feed their pigs on processed food waste, which is illegal under European law. We see an interview with a European Commission executive who explains the strict cosmetic criteria for our food. It’s not just bent carrots and cucumbers that are left to rot in the field – an otherwise picture-perfect apple which measures under 55mm in diameter is not considered fit for human consumption. Meanwhile, in the North Atlantic and the North Sea, European fish are killed and returned to the sea simply because they are an arbitrarily unpopular species, or because of the badly governed European quota system.

This isn’t just one of those “oh dear” documentaries that send you home vowing to buy a bruised banana – it’s a call to arms, demonstrating the slow but steady steps that are already being taken – waste researchers have succeeded in instigating round-table discussions for farmers and food industry officials, and there are some shining examples of innovation and ingenuity – one supermarket bakery recycles its bread glut and mixes it with the wood pellets used to heat the ovens. Dumpster divers, researchers, supermarket managers, food charities and farmers are working together to mitigate waste, but TASTE THE WASTE reminds us that this is a problem which lies literally on the doorstep of each member of Western society.

TASTE THE WASTE screens today at 4pm at Cambridge Arts Picturehouse as part of the 2012 UK Green Film Festival.

Quoted food waste fact is from Tristram Stuart’s Waste: Uncovering the Global Food Scandal (Penguin, 2009).

Jim Ross: What’s the grand idea behind the UK Green Film Festival, and why did you co-found it?

John Long: To explore the big environmental issues of the day, getting those messages out there, and making them accessible – showing people that it’s not all doom and gloom. It’s not hopeless, there are things we can do, things we can take home, in our personal lives that can have a big, positive impact on the world we live in.

JR: What would you say the strengths are in educating people about green issues using film and cinema, as opposed to other media?

…we need to communicate with people where they are, and not expect them to necessarily come to us.

JL: Film has the power to teach, to challenge, to entertain, and to inspire. And working with local, independent cinemas we can reach out to people who may not ordinarily engage with the environmental movement, but who love great film. We can take good environmentalism from one sphere of life and cross over in to another.

JR: Would you say, in that case, that getting folk behind the green movement is perhaps going to be more effective if done at a grassroots level and with lifestyle choices, using events like the festival?

JL: I guess I’d be an advocate of a ‘by all means’ approach, but I do think we need to communicate with people where they are, and not expect them to necessarily come to us.

JR: Is the festival a purely environmental event, in the classic sense or about something more general, as evidenced by, say, Happy, which is screening in Cambridge?

JL: We like to come at environmental issues from all angles – some films are what might be considered directly environmental, dealing with oil for instance; others come at a tangent – ‘Happy’ for instance tackles consumerism (one of the root causes of the environmental problem we face) head on – we chase consumerism to make us happy, our western world is increasingly geared to it, but does it deliver? Are we happy? Or are we chasing the wrong goals?

We like to come at environmental issues from all angles – some films are what might be considered directly environmental, [...] others come at a tangent.

JR: Why is the festival held in more than one location, is this to spread the festival’s message further?

JL: In a nutshell. We can reach a wide, national audience, make a bigger splash, and attract the best films and filmmakers. Our goal is to have a screening in every town that wants it – we have a waiting list for next year!

JR: Can you tell us a bit more about why you picked the films screening in Cambridge: HAPPY, IN TRANSITION 2.0 and TASTE THE WASTE?

JL: Good question. I didn’t! What we do as a festival is pick a hand chosen selection of the best films available to us in the UK – then our venue parters choose the films from that list that they feel will best engage with their own local audiences – they know their local community better than we do after all.

…our venue parters choose the films from that list that they feel will best engage with their own local audiences…

JR: Are there any particular films at other locations you’re looking forward to screening as part of the festival?

JL: I’ve seen them all, of course, and they’re all great. I would say that! HAPPY moved me, I have to say. It makes you question your values, then a lot of other, more ‘traditional’ environmental stuff seems to fall in to place.

JR: What are the environmental issues in THE TERMINATOR, which seems to be screening in Glasgow?

JL: An intriguing choice, yes! And I love that – re–casting a classic as an environmental movie. I guess it’s a vision of a future, not too distant from now, a salutary take of the worst case scenario…

JR: What do you look for in a Palme Verte winner?

JL: Essentially a film that communicates clearly, that opens our eyes, that leaves us wanting to make change and be that change, that engages audiences – and, of course, a great film in its own right.

JR: The festival is very young, where do you want to see it go from here – expansion of locations or expansion of content, or both?

JL: Both, but reaching more people would come first for me – for now, a tight film programme works for us – we get to choose the best of the new material out there, and get a high degree of consistency across the country – if you like the look of a film, there’s a good chance we are showing it near you.

———–
You can buy tickets for the Cambridge screenings of the UKGFF on the Arts Picturehouse website now.
HAPPY, Friday 18th May, 6.30pm
IN TRANSITION 2.0, Saturday 19th May, 4pm
TASTE THE WASTE, Sunday 20th May, 4pm

Set on the fictional campus of Seven Oaks, a college amuck with idiotic frat boys and elitist would-be journalists, the film stars queen of the Mumblecore movement Greta Gerwig as Violet, the delightfully deadpan (as ever) queen bee of a troupe of girls who have made it their personal mission to make the world a better place. Unlocking the medicinal powers of scented soap and offering the latest dejected newcomer to their self-run campus Suicide Prevention Center coffee, donuts, and tap dance lessons, the girls go about rescuing their fellow students from unhealthy living and misguided relationships, all the while succumbing to the pitfalls of youth culture themselves.

Gerwig [...] still maintains that alluring mixture of quirk and effortless wit

To say that there is a discernible narrative through-line would be a lie, and that is part of the film’s downside. Coasting along on Stillman’s customarily jazzy dialogue, with each scene sporting a variety of quick quips and pop culture laden bromides, DAMSELS IN DISTRESS is, effectively, a series of skits and light-hearted tableaux focusing on the various ups and downs of these laboriously superstitious young women. This allows for Stillman’s knack for patois to really shine, perfectly spouted by an extremely competent cast, particularly Gerwig, who, in her slow transition to the mainstream in films like the recent Russell Brand disaster ARTHUR, still maintains that alluring mixture of quirk and effortless wit. She can play characters like Violet in her sleep, and her presence lights up the screen, bathing it in a cheerfully warm glow that perhaps glosses over the intricacies of the plot and its touchy subject matter. From teenage suicide and depression to the “non-procreative” Cathar beliefs, Stillman tackles a variety of serious subjects but deals with them with the lightest of touches, where a profound, introspective monologue or a disarmingly twee dance number fixes every problem.

…for all its sophistication, where the film falters is in the flippant attitude towards its own sense of humour.

However, for all its sophistication, where the film falters is in the flippant attitude towards its own sense of humour. Poking fun at the fallibility of humanity, embodied by the breakdown of Violet’s composed demeanour when her relationship with goofball Frank (Ryan Metcalf) turns sour raises frequent laughs, but these scenes are deflated by a tendency to embrace silly gags, like Frank’s friend’s inability to recognise colours. The whole film plays out like a protracted and wispy dream sequence, where the walls between reality and idealised fantasy are eroded as easily as Stillman’s frequent fades to black. This is especially explored when Violet escapes the rose-tinted campus and stays in a motel adrift from the yuppie affluence of her closest friends, where she encounters a fateful bar of soap that she believes is the key to success, a comedic riff that is somewhat analogous of the wacky tone of the overall film.

It is easy to see that Stillman is creating something of a throwback to the charms of Fred Astaire musicals and the simplicities of human-to-human communication, standing out amongst an increasingly busy crowd of teen films amuck with social network-style abbreviations. Every scene and character feels fit to burst into song at any moment, a promise fulfilled by the clumsy musical finale, which is both inevitably kitsch and joyous. Yet what is unshakable is the way the film feels like an off-kilter joke and a prodding send up that rarely lets you in on its dry social commentary, instead depicting characters that rarely appear part of reality. Deliberately offbeat to the point of alienation, DAMSELS IN DISTRESS is, for want of a better term, undeniably quirky, and sometimes insufferably so, but it is also enchanting and amiable, a film that is as innocent as its setting but rarely amounts to anything as good as the sum of its parts.

The film makes use of two timelines and a fractured narrative. One tale follows Montreal DJ Antoine (Kevin Parent). Having left his childhood love and mother of his children, Carole (Hélène Florent), he is now living with a beautiful young woman, Rose (Evelyne Brochu) whom he fell in love with two years earlier. Simultaneously, in 1969 Paris, we follow Vanessa Paradis as Jacqueline – a single mother raising a son, Laurent (Marin Gerrier), with Down Syndrome. Once both timelines have been established, Vallée jumps frequently between them – making heavy use of music and cross-cutting to draw parallels between our time-shifted protagonists.

In terms of eliciting emotion and drawing you into the world of his character roster, Vallée has done a fantastic job. At the beginning of the film, the heavily stylised and soundtrack-laden establishing moments may lead you to worry this narrative hop-scotch will grate. However, once the movie has laid the puzzle pieces out in front of you, Valleé feels perfectly comfortable methodically shuffling them around until the whole comes together. Some genuinely heartfelt performances across the whole cast help to keep you engrossed and following the story – given the kinetic editing, especially towards the films conclusion, it would otherwise be easy to stop caring or to lose track.

…once the movie has laid the puzzle pieces out in front of you, Valleé feels perfectly comfortable methodically shuffling them around until the whole comes together.

In some ways, these strengths are also the film’s weaknesses, even though they are arguably minor. Although the editing style is appropriate, and turns out to be extremely effective foreshadowing for the film’s ending, its combination with fractured timelines and narratives can lead to the film appearing slightly indulgent in the same way as (masterful as it is) THE TREE OF LIFE was. With the rapid cutting and heavy emphasis on soundtrack, the characters sometimes get a bit lost during CAFÉ DE FLORE. This is slightly inescapable, given the central role music has in the narrative (the title refers to a 1960s French song beloved by more than one of the characters) and Vallée’s personal musical obsessions, but does deliver some problems. With montage-like sections put to eerie sounds of Sigur Rós or The Dark Side Of The Moon, it sometimes feels like you’re watching a very nicely composed, but perhaps rather clichéd, music video. In this regard, the film works far better on a metaphorical and poetic level than a conventionally narrative one – given the dreamlike quality this ends up lending the film, it harmonises well with the story Vallée wants to tell, even if it might alienate some of the audience.

…if you are willing to try and hold on to the rug that is being pulled from your feet [come the conclusion] then it makes a fitting resolution.

The conclusion of the film will undoubtedly leave audiences divided, but if you are willing to try and hold on to the rug that is being pulled from your feet then it makes a fitting resolution. To a certain extent, films like CAFÉ DE FLORE must be judged on their own terms. If Vallée’s excellent construction and cast draw you in, you’ll quite happily go with the film’s fanciful metaphysical flourishes and head-in-the-clouds tone, and be rewarded with a wonderfully involving tale that tries to capture how emotions and love often seem to transcend the individuals beholden to them.

The Special is the collaborative brain-child of Scarecrow Video employees Spenser Hoyt and Brian Alter, both of whom are involved with the Grand Illusion. I asked Brian Alter to answer a few questions about the evolution of the Variety Special and its future, as well as the relationship between Scarecrow and the Grand Illusion.

Ann Linden: Scarecrow Video and the Grand Illusion are both Seattle institutions, but it’s unusual to see a video rental store collaborating with a movie theater. How did that come about?

Brian Alter: We have a long history with Scarecrow Video that goes beyond the VHS programs. Over the years, many Scarecrow employees have been Grand Illusion volunteers. When the cinema was purchased from the Northwest Film Forum and converted into its own non-profit, two of the investors were Scarecrow employees. For a while it seemed like at least half of the GI volunteer staff worked at Scarecrow, and Scarecrow was a frequent sponsor of films at the Grand Illusion. So there is that connection, plus the fact that we are in the same neighborhood and both in the business of fostering a love of cinema and, most of all, friends!

AL: What’s the origin story on the VHS Variety Specials? (In other words, who can I blame for the visions of robot strippers dancing in my head?)

BA: Scarecrow did a show called “Viva VHS” in 2009 which gathered clips from tons of VHS-only sources. That show was sort of a tribute to VHS, coordinated around the final year VHS tapes were manufactured. So that’s part of the inspiration. The other part is that I originally wanted to do a series of VHS nights, screening films left behind on VHS after home video jumped to DVD. That idea stemmed from cinema’s current transition from 35mm film to digital exhibition. So it was sort of an attempt to bring light to the fact that with every format change, whether it’s home video or cinematic exhibition, films get lost. I floated the idea to Spenser Hoyt who is a current Grand Illusion board member, former programmer/manager and longtime Scarecrow employee and he ran with it, and suggested it be more of an extension of the “Viva VHS” show. That, in turn, became the first collaboration between the Grand Illusion and Scarecrow for the VHS XMAS show. The Variety Show in particular was just a way to take the kick-ass idea of showing weird, VHS-only footage and give it a manageable theme.

…with every format change, whether it’s home video or cinematic exhibition, films get lost.

AL: What’s the selection process for the content? Do you start with a theme, or do themes emerge?

BA: We start with a theme and Spenser looks through Scarecrow’s inventory for stuff that might work. Then he compiles a list of clips for me to transfer from VHS and gives a rough outline for the show. When I transfer the clips I usually stumble across a few more to use. By the time that is done I have 2.5-3 hours of footage! I sequence the clips according to his suggestions, and again, I stumble across different transitions and make more weird associations.

AL: Before seeing The Movie Orgy, I thought the VHS Specials might be something of a YouTube generation exclusive, but it seems maybe there’s always been a propensity to remix narratives and jar one’s consciousness by association. Was The Movie Orgy an inspiration for the Variety Specials?

BA: I heard about Joe Dante’s Movie Orgy a long time ago, maybe as a teenager, and the idea of it stuck with me somehow. But I had no idea – until we showed it in March – just how much of a stream-of-consciousness feel it had while still keeping a narrative going throughout. I stole Dante’s “super-digest” idea where he showed the beginning of the film and immediately cut to the end card for the Variety Show. Thanks to this I was able to turn an Andrew Dice Clay performance into a smoke break. The Variety Show definitely took more inspiration from The Movie Orgy (because we’d finally seen it!), but even in the Christmas show we were trying for a little bit of that remix or juxtaposition of clips, sort of like The Movie Orgy’s channel surfing vibe. But there are definitely others doing this type of thing. The Found Footage Film Fest does a great job of digging deep to find the weirdest, funniest stuff imaginable. And locally, Collide-O-Scope do frequent shows that are similar to our VHS nights.

AL: This is a really different way for a theater to pull in viewers — you’ve got some cultural touchstones (nudity, profanity, xylophones) that are hard to resist, and a promise of a viewing experience that can’t really be paralleled. Does the Grand Illusion have a conscious initiative to create events that can’t be replicated by sitting at home in front of a computer or tv? Anything similar in the works?

BA: I think the act of simply coming to the Grand Illusion is something you can’t replicate at home. But I’m clearly old fashioned and at odds with the world!

It’s obvious that folks like cinematic events that can’t be replicated at home. But the Grand Illusion is vehemently opposed to presenting sing-alongs and quote-alongs or other participatory film events. It’s nothing personal against those who like that sort of thing, it just doesn’t work for us. So thanks to this idea of plundering the home video revolution, we can produce events that are not only much more fun with a crowd, but are exclusive to the Grand Illusion and showcase Scarecrow’s vast collection. So for now there is an initiative to continue doing these shows. We’ve already brainstormed a few more: VHS Sports & Leisure in time for the Olympics this July, an election/politics show for the Presidential race, a horror show, definitely a volume 2 Christmas show, and maybe Seattle-specific and Valentine’s Day shows.

Viewing the Variety Special is akin to falling down a time vortex straight into late night channel skipping and video bargain-bin purchases. Gradually the Special takes on the shape and feel of its historical predecessor, the live variety show so popular on western television in the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. Stand-up comedy routines taped live in clubs and ill-advised musical performances are interspersed with foreign talent shows and sketch acts, VHS production logos and credits. With illicit, raunchy, wholly unacceptable humor, questionable dance performances, and bright blue eyeshadow everywhere you look, Hoyt and Alter have created a best of the worst that you can’t look away from. With all the hints and flickers of vaudeville and the circus, I’m left reflecting on our odd biological predilection for performance: if we can spin a plate on a pole, someone will watch. If someone will watch, we’ll do it again, and we’ll do it on television in front of millions. Viewing these clips through the lens of Hoyt and Alter’s editing process has a recursive, telescopic feel, the past beamed from TV to silver screen. Alter is correct, the Grand Illusion itself is a vital ingredient of the experience.

While it lacks the charm of the Grand Illusion venue, the full weirdness of the Variety Specials to date may be viewed online.

Tautou is terrific as the brittle and emotionally devastated Nathalie who comes to terms with the loss of the newly found love of her life by throwing herself into her office work. Her workplace is owned by the Swedes and is a drab, Norwegian wood affair (some good anti-Nordic jokes here inevitably taking in Abba, IKEA and rye crisp breads).

What marks out this happy movie (written by David Foekinos which he co-directs with Stephane Foekinos) is a masterly handling of pace and narrative. There is a strong story line here which is presented with a variety of moods and pace. There are energetic scenes of gentle comedy or driven angst interspersed with moments of delicious stillness where the camera lingers, the soundtrack vanishes and the action slows to a halt as Nathalie faces some new dilemma. This is bold and confident movie making which suits the mood music of this charming bittersweet confection.

What marks out this happy movie is a masterly handling of pace and narrative.

Good though Tautou is, François Damiens as the gauche, clumsy and not overly attractive Markus steals the limelight. His taciturn honesty, quiet dry wit and goodness of heart are what the grieving Nathalie needs and he finds himself falling into her orbit. Thus begins a most unlikely and hilariously hesitant love affair. Love and affection, says the film, comes in all shapes and sizes, true love (as we know) rarely runs smooth and outcomes in life are not always as you predict.

DELICACY is very much an all-round movie: great soundtrack with mournful French chanson riffing over an insistent gamelan rhythm, sharp editing and some wonderful ensemble performances from the office gossips, a lascivious married boss and the best friend who isn’t always there for you. It is a rich mixture, funny and tender by turns, sharp, acerbic and poetic when it needs to be. A delicacy indeed to make you feel that feeling good is OK.