Thursday, November 19, 2009





David Hess and Sasha Grey in Smash Cut


Review by Tony Martins


Though it has already screened in several other cities, director Lee Demarbre's much-anticipated Smash Cut makes its Ottawa premier tomorrow night at the Mayfair Theatre. With Smash Cut, Demarbre and friends have struck a delicate balance, paying tribute to cheesy/gory filmmaker Herschell Gordon Lewis with just the right blend of their own cheesy gore and movie-making smarts.

The film is true to the genre and all the required elements are here: the stiff acting, the corny in-jokes, the awkward '70s-era soundtrack, and of course the gore that is comically phony but often induces a wince just the same.

Ian Driscoll's clever script moves along briskly, giving us a multi-layered film within a film: When disgraced filmmaker Able Whitman (David Hess) accidentally kills his girlfriend Gigi Spot (Jennilee Murray), he discovers that using her body parts in his current flick adds the level of realism his gore movies have lacked. But one corpse is never enough: Whitman kills, kills, and kills again, offing his critics and adversaries and chopping them up for fresh props. Unfortunately for Whitman, Gigi's sister, television reporter April Carson (Sasha Grey), hires sleuth Issac Beaumonde (Jesse Buck) to crack the case.

Ironically, the best acting in the film is delivered by adult film star Sasha Grey. Sure, she, too, has her shaky moments, but overall Grey comes across as someone who is comfortable both in front of a camera and, er, in her own skin. Disappointingly, she never appears naked.

Produced by Robert Menzies of Ottawa's Zed Filmworks, Smash Cut sometimes seems high-production and other times appears laughably (and suitably) low-budget. In one memorable gore-genre shot, the camera remains fixed on the stairwell of a double-decker bus while a stripper gets slashed on the upper deck. You know that the blood will come running down the stairs, but the impossible torrent that appears (probably poured from a bucket) is laugh-out-loud funny.  

Still, the best moments in Smash Cut are when the tribute is put on hold and the filmmakers transcend the gore genre with some intelligent visual forays and moments of subtle humour. These instances startle and would seem more out of place had they not been handled with restraint. There's the segment where the serial-killing Whitman takes time out for some yoga in the park. There's an awkward-funny moment when budding starlet April Carson attempts to hand the bloody heart that she is holding to a reluctant production assistant.

Details such as these hold Smash Cut together as a film in it's own right—and there are others details to be admired: the clever gore movie posters that appear in several scenes; the wonderful closeups of plastic soldiers melting in a booze-fueled fire.

Flashes of excellence such as these make you wonder what the filmmaking team of DeMarbre and Driscoll could do if they ever channelled their efforts toward a so-called “serious” film. But to muse in this manner is to miss the point of Smash Cut. It's an intelligent tribute combining buckets of blood with loads of fun.

The cast and crew will be in attendance at Friday's 9 p.m. Mayfair screening, which will be fully licenced.

Friday, November 13

Everybody's buddy Patrick Gordon (of Patrick Gordon Framing) is not only one heckuva framer but he also has a knack for hosting events that are great fun.

That's why I'm pumped about the opening of Back Burner this Saturday night (Nov 14), an art show Patrick put together in support of the Octopus Books book launch of Yann Martel's What is Stephen Harper Reading?

Held in Patrick's studio at 160 Elm Street, the exhibit opening features work you can purchase by some great local artists, many of whom have appeared in the pages of Guerilla (did I mention that Patrick also has great taste in art?)—and it is certainly in support of a great cause.

Back in April of 2007, award-winning author Yann Martel was peeved at the never-ending cuts to arts funding under Harper. Martel determined that he would educate our national leader on the importance of culture by sending him a book and a letter every two weeks. Now Martel has written a book about the endeavor.

The 28 artists in Back Burner created works inspired by Martel's efforts (some examples are pictured below). They include Adrian Gollner, Andrea Sutton, Beth Levin, Bill McCann, Christopher Griffin, Daniel Marchand, Daniel Sharp, Danny Hussey, Dave Cooper, David Barbour, John Barkley, John Moffat, Justin Wonnacott, Maggie Knaus, Marjory Loveys, Mary Spicer, Michele Provost, Mike Ross, Mirana Zuger, Pat Durr, Patrick Cocklin, Patti Normand, Pedro Isztin, Peter Shemlzer, Petra Halkes, Reid McLachlan, Rémi Thériault, and Wojciech Jakobiec.

By Monday night, the dust should have settled from Saturday night for Patrick to host the actual Octopus Books launch of What is Stephen Harper Reading?

For details on all this stuff, see www.patrickgordonframing.ca.

If Patrick ever tires of framing, he could be one heckuva party planner.

Tony

John Moffat





Pedro Isztin





Mirana Zuger





Justin Wonnacott

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Arno Declair photo



Review by Tony Martins

There's so much to like about the exclusive Canadian engagement of Hedda Gabler produced by Berlin's Schaubühne company and playing at the National Arts Centre until Saturday: the performance in German with English and French surtitles; the humorous updating of the story by renowned director Thomas Ostermeier; the masterful rotating set that architecturally defines the drama; even the live musical score that merrily skips atop the dark underbelly of the classic play by Norway's Henrik Isben.

In the end, what stands out is how this beautiful and funny production asks us to share in a sobering laugh at the desperation through which some of us live and die.

First staged in Germany in 1891, Hedda Gabler is an elemental examination of human relations which, like Shakespeare, could be adapted to almost any time and place. Seeking social success, the charismatic title character has married Jørgen, a weak man whom she doesn't love—but everything changes when Jørgen's scholarly career faulters and the money runs out. Isolated in her starkly beautiful new home, Hedda's only recourse is manipulation, a game that darkens when her former flame Ejlert resurfaces as Jørgen's chief rival.

The sosphisticated set, a marvel of engineering and design, enables multiple views of the proceedings, punctuated with short bursts of film projection and spooky lighting effects. The central T-shaped structure—one wall of glass, one of concrete—gives director Ostermeier ample opportunity to play with the transparency and concealment at the heart of the drama.

Portrayed wonderfully by Katharina Schüttler, Hedda becomes a beautiful, caged bird, gazing through the glass and pressing against the concrete, so bored and bitter that for entertainment she shoots at vases (and people) with a set of heirloom pistols.

Though Hedda does despicable acts that decimate the lives around her, we somehow root for her freedom and mourn her suicide. Perhaps this is because her weakness is very recognizable: she allows the limitations of her relationships to define and ultimately destroy her.

The prevalence of humour in Ostermeier's interpretation is somewhat surprising but certainly effective in bringing a pop culture feel to the production. At times the action is like a soap opera; at other times like a sit-com. Yet there is more than enough raw emotion, grimness, and violence to avoid the prospect of farce.

The depiction of Hedda's death at the close offers a final paradoxical tableaux from Ostermeier: the stage spins to reveal Hedda's bloodied corpse while the other characters carry on and suppress the event as would dazed children. The final images, like Hedda's life, are at once absurd, comic and tragic.

Ostermeier's Hedda Gabler came to the NAC when artistic director of NAC French Theatre Wajdi Mouawad saw the production and was captivated. Mouawad intends to bring in one non-French language production each season. We anglophones can only hope that they are all this good.