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Shared Darkness

A Communal Life in Film, Examined

Daily Archives: February 16, 2007

Infamous

Every once in a while, slightly more often than a blue moon, Hollywood
turns out similar films. Sometimes, though, the thematic overlap is
considerable, and the lapsed time between windows of release quite
small. Such is the case with Infamous, the second of two movies
within a little over a year to concentrate on author Truman Capote and
the penning of his “nonfiction novel” masterwork, In Cold Blood. As such, Infamous feels a bit like a late-arriving guest who
shows up wearing the exact same fashionable, boutique-bought dress or
snakeskin jacket that an earlier partygoer already received heartfelt
compliments on. For the full DVD review, from IGN, click here.

Martha Reeves

American
Idol this season, if it hasn’t already), and if it fails to lift a sour
mood for at least two-and-a-half minutes then one is certifiably one hardcore grump.

No surprise, then, that it’s that tune that serves as the
kick-off treat and centerpiece to this concert disc (it’s actually performed twice). But Reeves was no one-hit
wonder. Her act, Martha and the Vandellas, were one of Motown Records’ earliest
and most exciting girl groups — a more and edgy forceful alternative to the airy lift of
the Supremes. Their first hit was their second release, a beat ballad called “Come
Get These Memories” that represented Holland-Dozier-Holland’s first
collaboration as a songwriting team, hit #3 on the R&B charts in 1963.
Other smashes soon followed, including “Jimmy Mack,” “Heatwave” and, of course,
the finger-snapping “Nowhere to Run To,” another romp of a song.

All of these tunes get a workout in this 54-minute showcase,
recorded from a 2005 show at the Rock ’n’ Roll Palace in Orlando,
Florida. Reeves is older and the
arrangements thusly stretched out just a bit from the full-throttle pace of the
originals. Still, if her attempts at energetic reach-out don’t convey the
full-on catharsis one might want (sorry, but tambourines don’t fully convey the
will to move that “Dancing in the Street” instills), Reeves proves she still has
some power left in her pipes. Special guest Sam Moore also comes out to offer
up some of his hits (“Hold On, I’m Coming,” “Wrap It Up, I’ll Take It”) as
well, which leads to the nice conclusion of “Soul Man,” another energetic tune.
There aren’t any special features to speak of on this full-frame, region-free presentation,
but the audio is loud and clear, and as long as one supplies their own dance
moves, it’s a nice enough treat from Motown’s star-studded past. B (Concert) C+ (Disc)

ABC Africa

One Campaign recently, and it reminded me of Abbas Kiarostami’s ABC
Africa. A documentary examination of the ravages of war, poverty and AIDS
in Uganda, ABC Africa is a film that
malingers and dawdles quite a good bit as it creates loose yet moving
impressions rather than a concrete arc. Yet it also reminds us that feeling is
indeed much stronger than thought; the at-odds sensations of joyfulness and
despair that it produces serve as a powerful exemplar that aid is not about some vague financial
hand-out, but a hand up for a people whom opportunity and modernity has largely
forgotten.

Over the course of a 10-day visit to the country (his
first), Iranian director Kiarostami captures the faces of several hundred of
Uganda’s estimated 1.6 million orphans, the number a result of a mid-1980s
civil war and crippling battle with AIDS and malaria. He spends some time
delving into an International Fund for Agricultural Development program that
allows/mandates villagers to buy into a collective agenda that protects them,
not unlike insurance, against life’s valleys.

Mostly, though, Kiarostami (Taste of Cherry, The
Wind Will Carry Us) uses a very nonjudgmental lens, gently elucidating
greater meaning through context and only occasionally prodding his subjects.
The film’s form is really quite loose — sometimes too much so, honestly. A lot of
the movie’s 84-minute running time is comprised of the simple, impressionistic,
non-narrated recording of everyday life — the wonderment with which kids behold
a camera, running after him like American suburbanites chasing an ice cream
truck — and a little of this goes a long way. When Kiarostami lingers at a
prophylactic billboard blacked out, presumably by staunchly Catholic
proponents of abstinence-only sex education, or, later in the movie, comes
across an Austrian couple adopting a little African girl, you wish the film
pursued these story strands with a little more dynamism.

In the end, ABC Africa is shattering in its own
glancing way, but not necessarily philosophically profound. There’s no
consensus or even, really, a finely honed inquisitiveness. Kiarostami documents
wholeheartedly, but without any sort of accompanying filter or prism; this
creates a deeply felt movie — and one still overall very worthwhile — but
also one that also doesn’t completely live up to your fullest expectations of what it
could be.

DVD bonus features include a theatrical trailer for the film and
a 55-minute mini-documentary from Pat Collins and Fergus Daly, entitled Abbas Kiarostami: The Art of Living,
which delves further into the director’s diverse interests (including poetry
and photography) as well as his filmography. A tri-fold booklet also excerpts
an interview between Scott Foundas and Kiarostami, the rest of which is
available via an included Web link. To purchase the film via Amazon, click here. B (Movie) B- (Disc)

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