Reviews

I THINK WE'RE ALONE NOW chronicles two over-obsessed Tiffany fans, who's sole purpose in life (or one of the top three life goals, according to one fan) is to marry the burnt-out pop singer.

I saw the film several days ago and I've already heard some criticism on the Slamdance grapevine. Several fellow filmmakers seem to think the documentary does less documenting and more exploiting of these two individuals. While I agree the film doesn't necessarily portray them in a positive light, I don't think they themselves portray themselves positively either--at least in the "normal" mainstream light.

Jeff Turner, a victim of Asperger syndrome, is a likable enough guy and I'd totally hang out with him because he's a vessel of knowledge. However, most of this knowledge is dedicated to his pseudo-relationship with Tiffany. He's taken great steps and read many books in an attempt to justify his idea that Tiffany loves him as much as he "loves" her. For example, Tiffany's appearance in Playboy was apparently a silent gesture of love for Jeff.

Towards the end of the documentary, we learn that he's begun a similar fascination with Alyssa Milano. He even thinks she's gone back in time in order to prevent his relationship with Tiffany! Jeff's innocuous attitude and gentle perspective on life really persuades the viewer to fall in love. He's kooky and fascinating and I really adore him and it's the opinion of this reviewer, that he's portrayed fairly and accurately.

Kelly McCormick, however, is really where I believe all the controversy lies. A hermaphrodite, Kelly already has to deal with a great deal of persecution already. She (I say "she" because Kelly's ultimate desire is to fully become a woman) too believes she's destined to be with Tiffany, but for a very different reason. After a bicycle accident that left her in a coma, she claims she had a vision of a woman who looked just like Tiffany (even though she'd never seen the pop star, nor heard of her) surrounded by a white light and all the other normal comatose visions people claim to have. This vision has thrown her into a tailspin of mental anguish and depression every day she's not with her love. At one point she really breaks down and while I did not feel it was appropriate to laugh as some did, it did disturb me a great deal.

A documentary, in order to stay true to its form, must be unbiased and objective about its subject(s). In this case, the documentarian, Sean Donnelly (this is his first feature film), does just that. He shows these people for who they are and they're more than happy to display themselves. Whether you like them or not, or feel sorry or pity for them, the fact of the matter remains: this documentary is a) true to its form and b) interesting.

According to filmmaker Bryan Poyser, Grammy's was really just an excuse to put Joe Swanberg and Rusty Kelly together. In a SXSW interview, Poyser explains that he actually organized a benefit screening of Swanberg's Kissing on the Mouth and his own Dear Pillow, which Rusty Kelly stars in. Joe Swanberg, a Chicago based DIY filmmaker, plays a likable, straight-as-arrow dork, while Rusty Kelly plays his obnoxious, jaded younger brother. When Swanberg's character attempts to set up a fishing trip on private property, in a pathetic attempt to bond with his brother, the two find themselves in a world of trouble.

The set of events that follow get funnier and funnier the more I watch the film. There's masturbation! There's sadomasochism! There's thievery and back-stabbing! Grammy's is quite a lot of fun. But what's really neat is how it's such a fine example of what DIY'ers are doing these days. Independent filmmakers are putting each other in their films, propelling each other instead of competing against one another. This is exactly what the DIY experience is all about and what makes it so important to current indie filmmakers. So go on and enjoy the film--just don't forget your wallets on your way out. We wouldn't want you to get into any trouble.

I vaguely remember watching Badlands on television when I was a kid. I don't remember my reaction much, but I'm quite sure I wouldn't have liked it back then. Of course, anything formatted for my TV, edited and chock full of commercials isn't really worth seeing anyway. What really impressed me was Martin Sheen's brief speech before the film where he mentioned he was most proud of his work in this film, above all, including Apocalypse Now. Although, the only copy available was on DVD (Sheen wasn't too happy about this), I'm really glad I caught it on the big screen. It's really one of those films that needs to be seen, so if you haven't seen it, go rent it. After seeing the film as an adult, I suddenly found myself wondering what all the fuss was about with Natural Born Killers, for after viewing this film, you just don't need the Oliver Stone film. It's entirely unnecessary and arbitrary by comparison.

A shocking coincidence at a party sets an uncomfortable tone in James M. Johnston's GDMF. The film playfully begins with an exotic dancer describing an odd fetish of one of her clients. Certainly setting the awkward tone at the beginning, GDMF proves to take its uneasiness even further with an accidental act that makes her professional line of work seem just the same as any cubical jockey's. Interestingly enough, the act itself isn't enough for Johnston, as he shows us the unlikely aftermath which compels the viewer to question who really is or is not the victim of this bizarre tale. The gritty look of the film and the slamming music of Top Secret...Shhh really fits the overall design of the film as a whole. And the cinematography at the end, with a scene involving a mother and a daughter, is absolutely perfect.

The really amazing thing about Kabluey is the celebrity cast Scott Prendergast puts together. Not only is the film made on a shoe-string budget (no trailers or amenities folks!), but this is Prendergast's first feature length film! Topping that, he writes, directs and stars in it! After the film ended, Prendergast tells us that his co-star, Lisa Kudrow, actually phoned him up one morning and told him in person she'd do the film. He'd sent her a script directly. Apparently, after she signed on, several other stars (including Teri Garr and Christine Taylor) followed suit.

Not only is the cast of characters spot on, but the film itself certainly delivers a wide spectrum of joyous emotions. I felt joy throughout the film, but that joy ranged from laugh-out-loud funny, to giddiness, to emotions that made me feel like I should cry but still made me feel happy. Either way, I was quite amused and had a smile on my face the entire time.

The quirky concept of the film is an oddball kind of guy, Salman, trying to help his sister-in-law with her two, non-stop ruckus driven brats, while her husband is away in Iraq. Salman ends up getting a seemingly useless job as a guy who dresses up in a huge blue, faceless suit and hands out flyers promoting office space for rent at a glorious expanse of a building so large and magnificent and yet, so empty. I asked the writer/director about the company during the Q&A session and he said he'd manufactured it after these grand buildings owned by bankrupt and defunct dot com companies, who'd busted.

Prendergast finds humor in so many ordinary parts of life. This, coupled with his ability to tell a story by only showing its aftermath, makes me think we'll be seeing quite a bit more of him on screen and behind the scenes. Prendergast received a round of applause when he announced Kabluey had been picked up and will be distributed, with a theatrical release, sometime next year. It's blurific!

Aside from the final sequence of Orphans, I felt Ry Russo-Young's film was a brilliant piece of cinema. The story follows two very different sisters who reunite for a birthday party and rehash their childhood. They discover how they really feel about each and justify why they moved apart in the first place. The dynamic between the two characters really makes this a great film--especially a dance sequence smack dab in the middle of the film which is utterly amazing. What I didn't like about the film was the director's choice to make something like a MADD commercial at the end of the film. And, especially, the choice to have one of the sisters actually talk to a grave. Other than that, I adored the film for its style and grace, it's zany character design and phenomenal performances by the actors, it's realistic dialogue and its gritty sense of direction.

RIP Lily Wheelwright

Tijuana Makes Me Happy is a coming of age story shot with unprofessional actors in a quasi-documentary style. In the short span of time the film covers, fifteen year old Indio has to make decisions regarding sex, crime and friendship (with a rooster). The plot details are fairly simplistic and linear, but that certainly doesn't take away from the film in any way. That the film seemingly has no moral perspective about the dubious activities in the film, really gives the film more credit in my mind. It's light-hearted approach to activities such as cockfighting, prostitution and drug trafficking seems far more realistic and gripping when told by the amoral eye.

Perhaps I'm partial to films photographed in Mexico, however, given my love of Central America in general. Even the most ordinary scenes give me great pleasure when I see them on the screen because they are so different than America. I did appreciate the story (although, I could have lived without the spelling errors in the subtitles), but the vision of Tijuana and its inhabitants reeled me in.

Given there's already quite a number of reviews of The Good Life--it did play at Sundance, after all, I'm not going to discuss the plot of the film, except to briefly say that it's a film about the suffering and isolation of one man, Jason, in a town he's trapped in for all the wrong reasons. He is surrounded by deceitful and manipulative individuals who do nothing but bring him down and pull him further and further into desolation. That is, except for his one true friend, Gus, an old man who owns a neighborhood theater. The film deals with themes and perspectives and actions viewers don't typically find appealing on screen--and it is largely depressing. Reviews are mixed for this film, as to be expected. Some find the film hopeful or inspiring at the end--I just see it as survival.

The well-fleshed out characters in this gloomy tale are all impressively played. Mark Webber's performance as Jason is incredibly riveting and believable. As for Chris Klein, I agree with some critics who believe this might be his best role yet. Zooey Deschanel manipulates me into loving her once again. Bill Paxton's character is quirky and odd and gay, and Bill pulls it off perfectly. Gus, however, is probably my favorite character. I kept looking over at Harry Dean Stanton, who gives a heartfelt performance as a dying man, wondering, as the film progressed, how he felt watching himself play this character--at his age--and how it effects him. Of course, he's far more active than Gus...

(on my blog there was a picture of Harry Dean waving his hands in the theater at the audience, announcing "I am not a crook.")

Professional skateboarder Stephen Berra has written and directed a truly important film, built on decent story and cemented together with remarkable performances from the actors. Berra's portrait of small town America manufactures a painful environment which grabs the viewer by the throat. The film doesn't necessarily say anything new or even profound for that matter, but it's certainly an emotional experience I won't soon forget.

Calvin Simmons' Float is a quixotic tale of a wannabe Hollywood director, Paul Greene, and his foolish pursuit at fame, fueled by his great idea. There's only one problem, his "great idea"--creating an all female prison on a ship--is absolutely ridiculous! Greene, however, will stop at nothing to get his film made. After pitching a big studio executive, played by Joshua LeBar, Float is a go, until his sudden termination. Losing his multi-million dollar budget, Greene must now figure out how to raise the money on his own and film the movie independently.

Intermixed with a workable romantic story, Float proves more than humorous. As Simmons mentioned in the Q&A after the film, the viewer doesn't necessarily relate to or want to be Paul Greene, but is sympathetic to his plight. His character, played by the writer, Paul Kolsby, is a likable--albeit pathetic--gem. I want to see more of his adventures! Float certainly doesn't inspire the independent filmmaker--nor should it--but it does laugh at the expense of Big Hollywood.

The Education of Charlie Banks marks the film debut of Fred Durst of Limp Bizkit. And what a remarkable debut it is! The film's themes deal with love, change and facing one's fears. Durst really makes the characters come to life and, despite many films of the same ilk, creates a likable antagonist--albeit a brutally violent one--who proves to be human, despite all his flaws. Jason Ritter plays a fearsome character, but just as the protagonist, Charlie Banks, expressed his need to "protect" him, I too sensed something in him that was precious. Unlike Variety magazine, who said Ritter "simply lacks sufficient menace and charisma," I find Ritter to be quite right for the role. In fact, the next day, I met him at Club Embargo and asked him not to beat me up! The real star, however, is Jesse Eisenberg, who plays the lovable Charlie Banks. His sincerity and genuine concern for others rightfully took an emotional toll on me as I sat in the theater. Tom Huckabee mentioned the film ought to be up for an Oscar nomination. I think I could agree with that.

I was really excited about finally seeing Barlow Jacob's Low and Behold, given its subject matter. Barlow plays a confused young man, Turner Stull, who travels to New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina, to help his uncle adjusting hurricane claims. Working as an independent adjuster, Stull finds himself in a foreign, tragic environment full of hostile individuals who have lost all of their worldly possessions and homes, and some, even their families due to the catastrophe of Hurricane Katrina.

Apparently, Barlow actually worked in Florida--not New Orleans--as an adjuster; and I've been told he really didn't like it. Due to the nature of my business--I'm in storm restoration--I quite related with the film, and although Barlow takes comedic license with his portrayal of adjusters and their practices, the responses met are probably quite true. I actually worked in Florida as well, although, I did not work in flood areas and my customer's were far better off than the ones portrayed in this film.

When David Lowery's The Outlaw Son was slated to play at the Sarasota Film Festival, he expressed an interest in the film festival's blurb of the film. The blurb isn't really important, but his reaction to it is. "I love it," Lowery stated, "because it's an interpretation that I'd never have thought of myself, but that's entirely applicable to the film all the same." That's really the magic of this high-concept, experimental narrative with absolutely no dialogue--save three words at the very end of the film. It's the subtle placement of things, the body language and facial expressions and a mood created by lighting, sound and music (in this case, The Theater Fire!) that tells a story. The fact that there are no words and that the audience can take away their own interpretations of the film, really adds to its essence. Much like a painting in a museum, The Outlaw Son relies on its audience to complete the story.

What I really liked about Dear Pillow is Bryan's sincere look at the dirty, perverse aspect of it that we like to hide underneath our beds. Where do we draw the line between the sensual and the perverse? Is there a point at which we've become far too enthralled with the process of pornography itself and not so much with sexuality? I really think Bryan's film is especially important currently, due to all the sexual outlets currently available. Like a voyeur, Dear Pillow peeps into that seedy world we'd all just as soon leave in the closet or under the mattress.

Dear Pillow also features Bryan's shorts, Grammy's and Pleasureland.

Let me first preface that I have a predisposition for enjoying Disney animated films. I'm not sure if its the child in me, or the fairy-tale stories, or what; but for whatever reason, I have a rather large soft spot for them. Enchanted is no different and has not swayed me from my position a bit. It left me wanting so much more. At first I was concerned with how the transition from animation to live action would really look like on screen, but my fears soon faded away the first time I saw Amy Adams pop out of a sewer in a giant wedding dress. How marvelous and enchanting she truly is, I thought; and how animated! How absolutely animated she is! It's really as if the cartoon has come to life--as if the New York City backdrop is just that, a fabricated, foreign backdrop. And then she started talking... And her voice, her facial expressions, everything: completely animated. After the film, David and Yen told me I absolutely had to see Junebug, and I certainly will after this performance. She shined the entire time on screen and she sold me. I actually believed she was really from some fairy-tale, animated world where dreams come true and everyone lives happily ever after. I loved her so much, I'm not even going to mention the other performances other than to say they were adequate and took nothing away from the film. I'll also note that the Central Park musical number is to die for.

I will, however, take a brief look at the story as well. I know what you're thinking: some cheese ball romantic-comedy mush that's over-the-top and kid stuff, right? Well, think again. This story is all grown up, philosophically and realistically. I really liked the existential observations the characters made, being in this odd conundrum. Both they and we learn something about love and fairy-tales; about reality and fantasy; but above all, we learn that it's ultimately a compromise between the two that finds us all true genuine happiness, forever... and ever.

There's always certain characteristics in a Stephen King adaptation that never seem to change. For one thing, you can always count on a decent story and on top of that, you typically develop some emotional concern for the protagonists along the way. The Mist doesn't veer from those characteristics. And, while I haven't actually read Stephen King's novella, I'm sure I would enjoy it after seeing the film adaptation. As a whole, however, I really didn't like the film at all. I really thought the screenplay was amateur and hokey, when it clearly wasn't trying to be. The film really wanted to be intelligent and even eminent, I think. I mean, the underlying morals and lessons are all too important and certainly a bit urgent, given the world we live in currently. But with the dialogue so badly written, I really can't give it the benefit of the doubt.

At first I thought it was the acting, but after some deliberation, I've come to terms with the fact that it's completely the fault of the writers. The circumstances and logical conclusion the characters come to in certain key instances really seem flawed and misguided. There's nothing more irritating than watching characters in films who are clearly supposed to be logical and reasonable, make illogical and unreasonable decisions, even though the film seems to think they made the right decisions. I'm not sure if any of that really makes any sense, but the bottom line is there's a fine line between creating a character who makes mistakes and a character who makes mistakes but those mistakes are totally ignored by all other characters, circumstances in the film and the film itself.

And for those of you who have seen it--or if you haven't, take a second look at this after you have--I suppose you think I'm mostly talking about the ending. But I'm not because the ending works. It doesn't matter what I would do or you would do, or what the right thing to do is done. That's not what's important. What's important is whether what was actually done is believable, or not. In this case, the ending was believable. I believed all the characters involved in the final climatic scene were truly to that point. Would I have made that decision? Probably not. But the fact that they did didn't brush me the wrong way whatsoever. It was a shock and I was certainly surprised, but it worked really well and I think without that final scene, the film would have been a complete flop. So, I suppose it goes without saying, if the mistakes and/or illogical or unreasonable decisions are ignored, the film simply doesn't work (and there are a lot of points in the film that I feel didn't work for this very reason); but on the other hand, if the mistakes are acknowledged, then the film generally works because of it. By and large, this film just didn't work for me.

Being a dedicated fan of Richard Kelly's breathtaking Donnie Darko, I was intensely hoping that I'd disagree with all of the negative reviews I'd seen for Southland Tales; I was intensely devastated when I quickly realized the negativity was justified. The over-blown, convoluted plot is nothing short of audience abuse. The story is trite and cliché and utterly boring; and far too pretentious and egotistical. I'm certain if I look hard enough, I'll find reviews labeling it an intelligent film, demanding multiple views and an open-minded audience. But I'd rather bathe in lye than watch this monstrosity of a film ever again. It's not that the film is difficult to understand, in theory, it's all the bullshit that I have to sift through to get to that basic story that's problematic. We have wannabe witty repartee, mostly with sexual connotations and innuendos, oozing with intentions to shock, but really just annoy; bombastic characters with little substance or structure whatsoever; unbelievable story-lines, even in the fantasy setting that is this film; and artificial television news programs that really do nothing for the story but interrupt descent cinematography. Yes, the film does have some decent cinematography, but that's about it. Unless you're into audio and visual masochism, I'd venture as far away from this film as possible.

After seeing the trailer for Beowulf, I decided I had no interest in seeing the film. However, after the screening last night, in 3-D at an IMAX theater, I'm glad I did. Other than the character names, places and objects, and some of the sequences that take place, the film is nothing like the epic poem. In fact, the underlying premise of the entire movie is completely made up and found no where in the poem. It's certainly sexed up and modernized, Hollywood style, to make it more accessible. And while I think it works well for the film, I certainly hope no ninth grader deems it a substitute for reading the actual epic. I actually pulled a copy myself from my library to re-read.

But who really cares about the poem, right? Haha, I jest! The story's the same as all the trumped up warrior movies of late (compare "I...Am...BEOWULF!" with "This...Is...SPARTA!"): heroic, sexy, hedonistic and violent. The monster Grendel is a foul ravaging, pus-ridden beast who towers over men with ease and rips their heads off like twigs. Liberties were taken, however, to make him also meek and hesitant, and clearly existentially bewildered. This gives the character soul and compels the viewer to find humanity in the creature. I really liked Grendel's mother, I must admit, even though creative license took her far beyond the original character in the poem. The cartoon version of Angelina Jolie arouses just as well, if not better, than the real thing (I could have lived without the high heels though). If I were Brad Pitt, I'd be quite jealous of cartoon Ray Winstone! It's a cool movie and definitely worth watching, but more so because of the technology, and less so about the story. You've got swords and blood and waves and stones and spears and beasts all coming at you at once! It's like you're in this foreign world battling right along with our hero! Alright, it's not that impressive, but it's certainly worth a movie ticket to check it out. I really can't say for sure how I'd feel about the film if I'd seen it in traditional two dimensional style on a normal movie screen... But then again, I'm not reviewing that experience, now am I?

Anytime I feel awkward during a screening due to its content usually means I'm engaged in a film worth viewing. Lions' Den is one of those films. Frank Mosley has created an intense fifteen minutes of film that shames and embarrasses the audience. These emotions compel the viewer to continue watching... Just as long as no one else is looking.

The haphazard photography intensifies the situation with its blurring images and gritty movement. What's really amazing about the short however, is that it was completely improvised--a method of film making that's becoming more and more popular these days. But while many films lack substance due to their unscripted dialogue, Mosley's seems to be more refined, due to its extreme realism. Mosley's ability to create such a stressful tone with his film is truly right on. Check out Lions' Den, if you have the stomach for it.

Much like Hannah Takes the Stairs, Aaron Katz's Quiet City focuses more on dialogue than on plot. I mean, here's the plot, in a nutshell. Girl flies to a strange city to meet her friend. Girl meets strange boy and asks strange boy for directions to diner so that she can meet her flaky friend that is always late and sometimes never shows up (I mean, we see where this is going, don't we?). Strange boy accompanies girl to diner, into diner, after diner, and several days following. There's some other people involved; an art show and after party; and some six degrees action to make the plot a bit more interesting; but that's about it.

But it's a nice film. That's really all there is to it. This is yet another film by another "ultra-indy" filmmaker, focusing on twentysomethings and the way they communicate. The scene, cutely coined mumblecore seems to lump together a group of filmmakers (coincidentally, all of them seem to like each other and/or work together) who all seem to be focused on the ultra-indy tactics like self-distribution, microbudgets and digital marketing of their own films. It's interesting how the six degrees theme in the film, Quiet City seems to ring true for this whole mumblecore thing. These guys all started out individually, but we've seen quite a collaboration this year. I'm anxious to see what's next for the "mumblecorps"?

Pretty in the Face is a depressing look at two individuals--Maggie, a homely girl with little self-image who constantly suffers her own blahness, and Daniel, an overweight fourteen year-old who resents his mother for being appallingly obese--who, uniting through individual tragedies, serve to help each other by finding a commonality of confusion and want of transgression in a world of banality and commonplace.

While the film's premise is an interesting one--and it's certainly important to focus on the problems of vanity in today's society--it just didn't seem to work for me. I never found myself sympathetic of the characters or their plights. And on top of that, the quality of the film was really poor and grainy. Because of these issues, I left the theater unchanged and in search of something a bit more gratifying.

Zoo is probably as tasteful a movie as can be, given its bestial subject. For those of you who aren't aware, there's a small population of the world who prefer the love of an animal--both mentally and physically--over the love of a human. This film stylistically recreates the life and death of one horse lover, Mr. Hands, and his pack of animal molesting friends, during one of many meetings and BBQ's in a small town near Seattle. Mr. Hands died from internal injuries, caused by the numerous and repetitive thrusting of the enlarged member of a stallion into his anus.

The film is tasteful because it's not sleazy. In this respect, it's almost worse on the audience because it humanizes these so-called animal lovers. What you'd think would be more like a shockumentary, more than anything else, really becomes a shallow dissection of a zoophile's playful mind. It's certainly not psychological, nor really in-depth; but its shallowness really makes it that much more grim.

As I watched the film, I felt like a voyeur peering into the lives of ordinary human beings doing absolutely bizarre and reprehensible things--and they just talked about it as if it were as benign and workaday as eating a bowl of cereal or taking the dog for a ride (insert pun here). Yet, much like a pedophile talking about his love for children, these zoophile's innocently and sincerely spoke about their love for animals.

Initially concerned about the content of the film, I left the theater without witnessing the exploitation or mockery of bestiality, nor did I see anything graphic or overtly sexual. I did leave the theater a little sickened, however, because I didn't loathe Mr. Hands or his friends. In fact, I somehow sympathized with their pitiful plight.

Frownland is like one of those intensely embarrassing situations where you end up laughing out loud at exactly the wrong time; and just at the moment you realize you shouldn't be laughing, you've already reached the pinnacle of voice resoundness; and as you look around you at the ghostly white faces with their gaping wide-open mouths and glazen eyes, you feel a piercing ache beginning in the pit of your stomach and suddenly rushing up your throat and... well, you get the point.

But for all its unpleasantness and punches in the face, Frownland, really is a remarkable piece of work that, after viewing the inarticulate mess of a main character and all his pathetic troubles and mishaps, makes you want to scratch your own eyes out and at the same time, you feel sickenly sorry for him.

It would have been a lot easier for me to simply walk out of Ronald Bronstein's film, but for some insane reason, I felt an unwavering determination to stay the course and experience all the grainy irritation the film has to offer. If someone sets you on fire, you typically want to put it out: Stop! Drop! And Roll! But with this film, you want to watch the flame slowly engulf your entire body. You endure the pain--perhaps out of spite, or some unknown masochistic curiosity I can't even begin to attempt to explain.

Unfortunately, mainstream cinema will never let this film come to a theater near you. But if you get a chance to catch it, prepare yourself: bring a doggie bag.

Michael Lehmann's new film, Flakes, could have been a quirky comedy, centered on a new type of concept "cereal" bar. Instead, it tries too hard to be a romantic comedy with a quirky setting, and unfortunately, doesn't really deliver anything romantic or comedic. I mean, the setting really is great. And the overlying plot--young entrepreneur threatens to Starbuck over a local establishment with a local following--might have worked, if the film had been completely different.

But instead of focusing on the fact that these guys live, eat and breathe cereal, Lehmann decides to cliché it all up by introducing the same old, badly written girl-wants-slackerboy-to-quit working-his-dead-end-job-and-focus-on-his-aspiring-music-career theme. And because of this, we never really get to learn that much about cereal, or what great toys come out of cereal boxes, or really anything cool at all. We do get some slack-off acting and a shameful appearance by Christopher Lloyd. All-in-all, it's a waste of time and plays more like a badly written sitcom than an actual feature film.

After the screening of Audience of One, much to the surprise--nay, the horror--of viewers, Pastor Richard Gazowsky and some of his congregation approached the stage with director Michael Jacobs. I, for one, had my hand over my mouth; my eyes were widened; and I certainly didn't know what to expect next.

But I'm getting ahead of myself--let's backtrack.

It took Gazowsky forty years to see his first feature film. Now the mission statement of his San Francisco based WYIWYG ("What You See Is What You Get") Filmworks is: "To bring the presence of God to people all over the world through entertainment." A highly unlikely candidate for a director, Gazowsky has made it his lifelong mission--since God told him to do it, of course--to get the biggest film ever on screen. It's kinda like "Star Wars meets The Ten Commandments"; shot on 65mm, it will be "the greatest movie ever made" and with a two million dollar budget to boot! A humble goal, indeed. Well, with that kind of pressure on your shoulders, it's no doubt that the film hasn't been made, despite hundreds of thousands of dollars and over a decade invested.

Jacobs doesn't really interfere much, in this film. He simply sits back and watches the roller coaster that is WYSIWYG Filmworks. Throughout the documentary, we see a highly inexperienced crew, a director who treats the set as a dictatorship instead of a collaboration, and a train wreck of goofs, mix-ups and failures. Anyone outsourced--and with any experience--ends up leaving, due to the misguided creative vision of the wannabe director. The crew spends money they don't have, relying on "investors" we never see; who end up dropping the whole project in the grease. Yet, the troupe hold on to that crazy vision and pray like there's no tomorrow because they are bound by faith! Just about the entire film made me laugh out loud, but at the same time, I felt a little ill in my stomach. The real question here--despite all the buffoonery and delusion--seems to be of immense import: is all of this a tad bit dangerous? Going back to the Q&A session, after the film; one audience member asked the pastor if he'd immediately turn to operate, if God had asked him to be a surgeon. And while the pastor's answer is an obvious one, the question still lingers in the air. Is this man's ambitiousness capable of hurting others around him? I certainly don't doubt this man's determination or his conviction--he actually sold his house to help the project--however, I do have doubt in his ability to deliver. And while he may be blinded by his own ambition, it's simply no excuse to waste the hopes and aspirations--and money!--of true believers, on the weak foundation of a deluded dream. This problematic, cultish mentality might be funny from the outside; but as we've seen so many times over: fundamentalism can be a very dangerous thing.

The pastor's response to all of this?

"It's like watching yourself go to the toilet," he says with sincerity. "I don't like to see myself cry. I feel like a total idiot in front of you guys. But what if we end up getting funded, dude? Then I'm not so stupid. Maybe." Maybe. Or, perhaps you're just a charlatan, who's just wasted another large sum of money--and someone else's dreams--due to false promises, based on absurdity and lofty goals, impossible to meet.

The most important aspect about The Devil Came on Horseback is its images, simply for the unfortunate fact that no one, really, has seen anything properly documenting the brutality going on over there. There's been sporadic text every now and then, and even a picture or two; but, by and large, the waves in the press about Darfur are merely ankle busters compared to this film's tsunami of pictorials and video, displaying the absolute horror of that region of Sudan.

The film follows Brian Steidle, a man who's entire career has been military-based. He served as a USMC captain and when he would no longer see combat, he left the military and accepted a contract position in Sudan with the Joint Military Commission, where he would be an integral part of the North-South ceasefire, rising the ranks from a team leader to senior operations officer. After seven months, he was invited to Darfur, where he would serve as an unarmed military observer and American representative for the African Union in that region. This film documents his findings as an observer.

What he found was systematic ethnic-cleansing genocide. The Sudanese government was not only enabling the mass extinction of its citizens, it was controlling it. The "devil" in the title of the film are the Janjaweed, nomadic black-Arab militia groups who massacre entire villages, by exterminating its non-Arab black African inhabitants and literally burn the tribes' homes to the ground. They are "paid" in plunder and are notorious for raping their female victims, castrating their male victims and torturing them all.

The Janjaweed have been more adequately equipped and become a far greater threat since non-Arab groups, the Sudan Liberation Army and the Justice and Equality Movement, have risen up against the Sudanese government, for its mistreatment of its people. Although the government of Sudan has repeatedly denied any assistance to these barbarous raiding bandits, this film has been a breakthrough of evidence, showing quite clearly the government's involvement.

To really understand this film, however, is to understand its tragedy. No one is really doing anything about this. Even after Steidle came back and lobbied before congress in an effort to call the United States to action, his plethora of images and video were dismissed as nothing more than inconvenient casualties in another state-sponsored genocide that we're unwilling to involve ourselves in. Sure, they were acknowledged and Colin Powell called it what it was--a "genocide"--but there's still over 450,000 dead and counting, and 2.5 million displaced.

I could describe to you the images I saw--the maiming and killing of men, women and children; their eyes gouged out and their bodies burned, castrated and mutilated--and how I reacted, emotionally with tears of hopelessness and regret, when I saw this film. But instead, I think it far more powerful for you to go see this film for yourself. Then perhaps you'll want to take action and help let our government know that you want it to take active involvement in stopping this nightmare. It's not enough to talk about it and acknowledge that it's happening--we need to take active measures in preventing the perpetuation of these government sanctioned massacres.

Remember, just as you've read this review in the comfort of your own home or office or wherever, the killing in Sudan continues. And it won't stop until every last one of the non-Arab black Africans are dead, or when, and if, someone steps in and takes appropriate action to stop it.