Big Lebowski documentary achieves

In the parlance of the Dude, new s--- has come to light about the long-awaited documentary on the most devout disciples of The Big Lebowski, the 1998 comedy written and directed by Joel and Ethan Coen. These fans call themselves "Achievers," taking the nomenclature from the big, rich Jeffrey Lebowski's charity program for underprivileged children.

I'm an Achiever and darn proud of it. Got the t-shirt and everything, as you've seen in outtakes from my photo shoot for a new Times ad. Princess Di and I pose wearing them each time we go to Telluride or somewhere otherwise cool, adding the photo to Lebowskifest.com's collection of Achievers' world travels. I'm proud to say that my 2005 feature on visiting Lebowskifest in Los Angeles is part of the site's media collection, too.

As such, I get irregular e-updates from organizers Will Russell and Scott Shuffitt on the comings and goings of Achievers worldwide, and plans for the next Lebowskifest.  They've been held in New York, Las Vegas and, of course, L.A. but originated in (and returns July 11 and 12 to) Louisville, Ky. This year's lineup includes musician Mike Doughty (whose Bustin' Up a Starbucks and 27 Jennifers are two of my favorite ear worms).

The schedule also includes the world premiere of The Achievers: The Story of Lebowski Fans that documentary filmmaker Eddie Chung was shooting in 2005 at Lebowskifest in L.A. I'm gonna contact Chung and see if I can get a screener for review, and maybe suggest it to local film festivals for inclusion. Take a look at the preview trailer, and note that the title has changed from Over the Line (a line from the movie) to The Achievers. Enjoy!

(Bloodstained) Ladies of the Night

Maybe it isn't your cup of entrails tea but there's a FREE double feature of locally produced horror flicks Saturday night at the University of South Florida's Tampa campus. Rick Danford of Enigma Films, in association with the university's film and video club and Hocus Pocus Productions are footing the bill.

The shows start at 6 p.m. with Alarum, starring local actor and model Krista Grotte, who I think I ogled at a previous splatter flick festival. She has, ummm, talent. Krista plays a woman besieged by mental illness after a lifetime of sexual abuse. It's a good bet that somebody's gonna pay dearly for that.

Around 8 p.m., you can see Savaged starring Debbie Rochon -- who has 151 horror film credits, according to IMDb -- as a woman hiding from her ex-boyfriend, and whose dog becomes fiercely protective of her.  There's a killer bear in the woods and a possible psycho on her tail, so expect things to get messy.

Rochon (pictured at right with Dee Snider)will attend and conduct a Q&A session after the movie. The evening also includes a number of preview trailers for upcoming (and unbecoming) gore productions including The Black Devil Doll. Not sure what that is but "he'll" be appearing to present an adults-only scene from the movie.

Folks, when these amiable maniacs take time to tell you something is "adults only," I'd take them seriously.

Get all the information you need here.

Bunny Chow served at Studio@620

The Gasparilla Film Festival doesn't fold its tents when the wrap party ends. These folks are carving out an identity as a 365-day supporter of independent film arts, both here in Tampa Bay and now around the world.

The festival's ambitious Global Lens Film Series begins this Friday at Studio@620, 620 1st Ave. S in St Petersburg. The venue, WMNF-FM and the University of Tampa are sponsoring this mostly fortnightly (Bob Jenkins just gave me that word) event. The Gasparilla fest hooked up with the Los Angeles San Francisco-based Global Film Initiative, "promoting cross-cultural understanding and diversity by presenting developing world feature films in over 40 major U.S. cities."

The first Global Lens offering is John Barker's Bunny Chow, focusing upon three comedians living in Johannesburg celebrating a raucous roadtrip to Oppi Koppi, South Africa's largest music festival.

My American Idol... Fred Knittle

You have phone interviews, and then you have conversations that happen to involve a telephone.

I had the latter this afternoon with Fred Knittle, the Young@Heart chorus member whose breathtaking version of Coldplay's Fix You is available a few posts back on this blog.

Fred didn't make the trip to L.A. with the other chorus members, set up by the distributors of Young@Heart (opening May 2). His heart won't take the trip these days. But he had a nice day with ROMEO -- which puzzled me, too, until he told me that ROMEO stands for: Retired Old Men Eating Out.

They meet every Tuesday for lunch and chat. Fred said the group's motto is: "If you don't have anything nice to say, join our club."

Checked my e-mail and found this message, which made my day:

Dear Steve:  I just went to your blog and it was great…  thank you for the kind words…  It also gave me a picture of you that will help me recognize you when you come North for a visit to Northampton (Mass.).

Thanks for the phone call today and for being outgoing and warm during the interview.  I felt relaxed throughout your in-depth questioning.

Seriously, my new found friend, I look forward to getting a copy of the article in the St. Pete Times.

Fred

It'll be there, Fred. Wish I could hand-deliver it.

Sarasota stars and (too much) sun

After an hour on the beach that left me resembling Hellboy, the Sarasota Film Festival's tenth anniversary party at Longboat Key Club and Resort was like aloe vera lotion for the eyes.

Lots of pretty people in pretty clothes with pretty fancy cars. Quite different from the eco-friendly golf cart we hijacked to make it across the street.

Here are a few photo impressions, during a red carpet sashay and awards ceremony nearly drowned out by clinking glasses and dinnerware clatter, featuring two famous "Charlies:"

Charlize Theron (or "Charlie" to her friends but apparently not me) had arrived only hours before with live-in filmmaker Stuart Townsend, who is just handsome enough to make me give up the moonlit fantasy I described yesterday.

Stanley Tucci and Steve Buscemi arrived at the same time, befitting a friendship that Buscemi said began when they were part of a hiking trip that got too tiring and intoxicating to finish. They wound up hitching a ride down the mountain on the back of a septic tank servicing truck (motto: "We're No.1 in the No. 2 business). The filmmakers share ownership of a production company now. "If anyone wants to invest," Buscemi quipped, "We'll take you down with us."

Buscemi added in his funny remarks that this was his second trip to Sarasota for the festival: "You know how much I love the sun," the perpetually pallid actor dead-panned.

Florida's Charlie Crist -- who reminded everyone that Theron's pals call her Charlie, too -- became the first governor to visit the Sarasota festival, along with his girlfriend-in-chief Carole Rome.

Crist touted the Florida film industry's $3.9 billion a year money flow into the state, contributing thousands of jobs. With that, Crist suggested, comes responsibility: "All of you who work in this industry, I say: America is the world leader in film and we need to continue to stay that way. Whatever you do when you make a film, promote something good. It matters."

Veteran film star Norman Lloyd looked sharp on the runway, still as lively as anyone in their 90's has a right to be.

Also caught former New York Times film critic Elvis Mitchell -- one of my personal faves -- on the red carpet.

Speaking of awards: Here are the winners from this year's Sarasota fest. You may never hear of them again but there's always that chance. Keep in mind that the spotlighted films -- Tucci's Blind Date, Theron and Townsend's Battle in Seattle and Who is Norman Lloyd? weren't entered in competition.

Saturday night, Tucci picked up the festival's Renaissance Award for his work as an actor, writer and director; Theron received the Career Achievement Award, Ted Hope (The Savages, American Splendor) grabbed the Producers Award and director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck won the festival's Breakthrough Award for his Oscar winning forign film The Lives of Others.

The following were jury prize selections:

Narrative feature: Munyurangabo; documentary feature: Stranded: I Have Come from a Plane That Crashed on the Mountain; special jury prize for documentaries: To See if I'm Smiling; Independent Visions: The Pleasure of Being Robbed (which also won the Heineken Red Star prize for innovation and originality).

Audience award winners included:

Narrative films: Fugitive Pieces; documentaries: Of All the Things; world cinema: Christmas Story; short film: La Corona.

Night of 1000 Stars; morning of equal hangovers

Don’t know how anyone could be expected to retreat to a dark movie theater on a sun-splashed morning like this in Sarasota. Especially after a hazy, crazy Night of 1,000 Stars where at least that many celestial objects were circling everyone’s Bombay Sapphire-stoked heads.

Michael’s on East is the hoi polloi chuckwagon where the Sarasota Film Festival sets aside one of its social gatherings each year. I’m sure the lunch and dinner crowds don’t scrape against fire code standards like this shindig. I tried to take a head count but kept getting distracted by the  handiwork of cosmetic surgeons who must rank high among Sarasota’s industrialists.

I swear when one gem-drenched sabertoothed cougar smiled at me, her toes curled backward from the skin tension.

Stanley Tucci squeezed into Michael’s around 10:15, fresh from a sold-out screening of his new movie Blind Date, co-starring Patricia Clarkson. The overheard consensus among folks who made it inside the theater wasn’t complimentary. Tucci’s bravely polite smiles for photographers seemed to confirm that. “Boring” was the most common description I heard. I’ll have a chance later to see if that’s true.

Grabbed a few seconds with Tucci before he was hustled to the roped-off VIP area, sitting at a table reserved for Blind Date personnel and friends. I kept the chat brief and off the screening vibe, just to be polite. He had bigger crab cakes to fry since most of the VIPs appeared to be festival sponsors and Sarasota moneybags; the kind of folks who chipped in for William H. Macy’s opening night film, The Deal.

Variety recently named Sarasota as one of the top festivals where artists may find financial support for projects, while other festivals are either shopping centers for distributors buying rights to completed movies (Sundance, Cannes) or kicking off awards hype for movies with everything else lined up (Telluride, Toronto). You gotta start the process somewhere and it usually has something to do with someone else’s bank account.

Tucci’s pal Steve Buscemi – who’ll introduce him at tonight’s awards gala at Longboat Key Club and Resort – also worked the VIP lounge crowd. He didn’t mind smiling (or something like it) for cameras clicked by fans on the non-business side of the ropes.

Princess Di and I took off around 11:15 when the body crunch factor approached agoraphobic levels. We have tickets to a couple screenings (Helen Hunt’s directorial debut Then She Found Me and the Harry Potter mania documentary We Were Wizards) and owe it to ourselves to catch some of these ultraviolet rays before dressing for tonight’s gig.

I was asked by the folks at WTSP Ch. 10 (where I do movie reviews each Thursday during the 4 p.m. newscast) if I might be available to handle red carpet interviews of Buscemi and Oscar winner Charlize Theron, whose film Battle in Seattle closes the festival tomorrow. Looks like that won’t happen, which is a shame.

I had envisioned chatting with Theron then saying something like: “Well, I have to ask you the obligatory red carpet question.” Before she could say which designer she’s wearing I’d say: “What am I wearing?”

In my fantasy, she’d laugh, charmed by my wit. Then we’d head back to the hotel beachfront and gaze at the stars until daybreak.

In reality, she’d say: “A cheap suit.”

Scarface memories and Sarasota redux

Big day. Gotta get some things cleaned up for work, get packed and get down to Sarasota for the closing weekend of the Sarasota Film Festival. Check back this weekend because I'll be (fingers crossed) blogging and posting photos from various events, and shots of some of the visiting celebs.

One of the last things on today's to-do list is polishing off a story running Monday that was born out of serendipity. Twenty-five years ago, a Miami amateur photographer named Bill Cooke was in the Ocean Drive neighborhood when gunfire erupted and two bloodied men faced off. One walked away alive.

Cooke kept on snapping photos.

Don't worry. It wasn't real, but a scene being filmed for the 1983 cult classic Scarface. That was Al Pacino as future drug kingpin Tony Montana still standing, after his buddy got chainsawed inside a hotel room.

Cooke kept those photos stashed away all this time. When he found them, the Times bought these previously unpublished artifacts from what many feel is the quintessential Florida movie.

Thing is, most of Scarface was filmed in California, after the production was chased from Miami by Cuban-American complaints -- and reported threats -- aimed at the movie.

I spoke with Scarface producer Martin Bregman, who said he has never talked about what happened behind the scenes in this matter. Monday, we'll run several of Cooke's photos in Floridian, along with Bregman's recollections. Here's a taste:

“The problem started when I had some Cuban expatriates, I guess, that called me and wanted to meet with me (in 1982),” Bregman said by telephone from his Manhattan offices.

“They were from Union City, N.J., right across the river," he said. "They told be that it would be very unsafe for me, my family and everybody involved in this enterprise to make this film. They said they were aware – and they used the word ‘aware’ – that (Fidel) Castro was financing this film to embarrass the good Cuban community.”

Bregman called that claim “pure, absolute stupidity.”

Those Union City emissaries also expressed displeasure with associating Cuban-Americans with drug trafficking, according to Bregman.

“They said over and over: ‘There’s no Cuban drug people. No Cubans are involved with that,’” Bregman said.   “Now, I had just gotten back from Miami with Oliver Stone and we spoke with nothing but Cubans and they were all in the drug business. Not all Cubans but the people we talked to, the big guys in the drug trade.”

It gets better. See for yourself Monday.

Jennifer Ehle and T.M.I.

I happen to think that a measure of any cultural, social or political critic is the occasional willingness to admit that he or she doesn't know what they're talking about.

Maybe that's just self-defense.

Anyway, I was offered a few phone minutes Tuesday with Jennifer Ehle, a guest of the Sarasota Film Festival, whose screen career -- she has won two Tony awards for Broadway excellence but I live in Florida -- has mostly escaped me except for a solid reputation among big-city critics who see her best movies.

I like these situations. Really. I have to scramble for question ideas and (in this case ) she has to realize that I haven't seen her film Before the Rains (playing today and Thursday at SFF), that she isn't a household name (pronounced EE-lee) and any publicity for the movie from a top-flight publication (even a blog) is better than a poke in the eye.

Sometimes, as with Ehle, that kind of crunch brings out the nicest in people. Some examples from our impromptu 4:34 on the phone:

I started with inquiring about how she likes Sarasota.

"Oh, my goodness, we love it," Ehle said. "We got here yesterday afternoon and last night we loved it so much that we called my parents, who live in North Carolina, and said: ‘We think you should come down.’ So, they arrive in about 10 minutes. Isn’t that great? It’s really lovely here."

Ehle's mother is Rosemary Harris, also a Tony winning actor and best-know to movie masses as "Aunt May Parker" in the Spider-Man trilogy. They played young and old versions of the same character in two movies, including Istvan Szabo's Sunshine. Since Mom made the leap (or took the fall) to popcorn cinema, and since Ehle is a lovely woman, why doesn't she play a few frothy, fluffy Bullock/Roberts/Hathaway kinds of roles?

"I don’t know why," she said laughing. "Talk to my manager. I guess people don’t think of me as frothy but God knows I have my moments.

"You know, I actually, really enjoy escapism. I’ve probably seen more escapist movies than any other kind, not that I see a lot because I’m a very happy homebody.

"(My mother) adores being part of (a blockbuster series). I don’t yearn for it. I’m sure the financial security would be lovely. But I actually know lots of people who have been part of those kinds of movies that haven’t given them that financial security. It’s not always the actors who make the most amount of money from those ventures. Sometimes they make enormous amounts. But I don’t yearn for that kind of fame.

"Maybe when I’m 70 I’ll get one of those parts, too."

Who is Norman Lloyd?

Who is Norman Lloyd? is a fascinating documentary and a darn good question.

At age 93, Lloyd is someone old enough to have played tennis daily with Charlie Chaplin and young enough at heart to charm Cameron Diaz in 2005’s In Her Shoes.   Lloyd performed on stage with Orson Welles’ Mercury Theater, made movies with a portly legend he still calls “Hitch,” oversaw the autistic dream that was TV’s St. Elsewhere and couldn’t prevent the end of the world that George Clooney produced in a remake of Fail-Safe.

If Kevin Bacon can be connected to anyone in Hollywood in six degrees, Norman Lloyd could probably do it four.

Who is Norman Lloyd? is director Matthew Sussman’s answer to that question, a brisk chronicle of an extraordinary Hollywood life. Lloyd will introduce the film at two Sarasota Film Festival screenings, Thursday (5:15 p.m.) and Friday (7:15), and probably top it during after-show discussions of places he has been and celebrities he has known.

“It is true that this business is based on relationships,” Lloyd said Monday from his Los Angeles home. “I’m very proud of the people with whom I’ve worked. It’s an amazing collection that just by happenstance happened. Chaplin, (Alfred) Hitchcock, (Jean) Renoir, Welles, even in more modern times (Martin) Scorsese.

Pick any famous name and Lloyd can spin an astounding true story. For our brief conversation, I chose Chaplin, which led him to these memories:

“Charlie and I would play tennis four times a week, especially in the summers. I can still see him saying to me one day: ‘If you ever want to do (a film project), let me know and I’m in for half (of the financing).”

Lloyd had just the project in mind, a movie based on Horace McCoy’s novel They Shoot Horses, Don’t They?, set in a Depression-era dance marathons where desperate souls struggled to survive.

“Charlie knew about marathons from A to Z,” Lloyd said. “He would pretend he knew nothing about them but he was a magnificent smokescreen. He pretended not to know much about them until we got talking then he knew everything about them.”

Lloyd purchased the rights from McCoy for $3,000. Chaplin wanted to produce the movie with Lloyd directing in the early 1950’s as a starring vehicle for his son Sydney, and a newcomer named Marilyn Monroe, who was having an affair with both Sydney and his brother Charlie, Jr.

While the deal came together, Chaplin took his family on a European trip. During the vacation, Chaplin learned that he wouldn’t be allowed back into the U.S. unless he faced a morals charge related to an earlier lover and accusations of being a Communist sympathizer during the McCarthy era.

“Charlie said he would never make another movie in America. And he never did.”

As often happens with Lloyd’s anecdotes, the story twists into itself with another layer of Hollywood serendipity:

“There was a bookstore with an owner I knew quite well,” Lloyd said. “He told me about a girl who always came in to buy books by Tolstoy and Dostoyevsky, saying I should meet her. I told him: “I don’t want to meet that kind of girl.'

“He insisted and gave me her phone number, writing down the name ‘Marilyn Monroe.’ I’m here to tell you -- and this may be the most important information for your interview -- I never called her.”

Stanley Tucci gets what he deserves

Stanley Tucci is a dedicated actor and filmmaker who can’t believe he deserves a career achievement award yet.

Tucci is also a shrewd guy, so he won’t decline the Sarasota Film Festival’s offer, either. He’ll pick up his honor Saturday night at the festival’s tenth anniversary gala, after finding a loophole that won’t compromise his creative integrity.

“They didn’t say lifetime achievement, which is nice. Then they’re just opening the door for you to quit,” Tucci, 47, said in a telephone interview from New York. “It’s a nice way to be embarrassed.

“Whether you deserve it or not, part of the embarrassment comes from feeling like you don’t deserve it. I always feel there’s so much more for me to do. What I’ve done is certainly not enough for me. I’ve only just gotten started.”

That’s bad news for any aspiring character actors out there. Tucci is currently the go-to guy when Academy Award winning filmmakers such as Steven Spielberg and Sam Mendes require someone with ordinary looks and extraordinary range. He might have a few Oscar nominations himself by now, if he didn’t play each character so effortlessly right.

Tucci is also a fine writer and director, revered in the independent film world. During our conversation, Tucci intuitively found a link between the rawness of his latest film, Blind Date, the gentle culinary charm of Big Night (1996), the Laurel and Hardy madness of The Imposters and the true-life falsehoods of Joe Gould’s Secret (2000).

“They’re all about identity and the role of the artist in society, whether it’s chefs, actors or journalists.” he said. “That’s sounds pretentious, and maybe is. That’s what all those films have in common. They’re all sort of the same film over and over again in a different genre.”

Each film is marked by Tucci’s practical nature. He doesn’t enjoy not working, and he doesn’t like waste when he works.

“If you have any amount of extra drive (as an actor) you’ll want to start generating your own work,” he said. “If you wait for people to give you a job, you could be waiting for a very long time, and it has nothing to do with whether you’re talented or not.

"I like to prepare. I don't like to waste money and I don't like to waste time. A lot of people seem to want to believe that creativity and practicality can't go hand-in-hand. I actually think they can."

Nice "Deal" in Sarasota

Princess Di and I spent Friday night at the opening of the Sarasota Film Festival. Always a good time except everyone thinks Di is Tina Fey (which is neat) and they're wondering what she's doing hanging around Paul Sorvino (which isn't).

A packed house at Van Wezel Hall genuinely seemed to enjoy The Deal, an almost-too-inside Hollywood satire co-written, co-produced and starring William H. Macy. You'll remember this as the movie Macy -- a frequent Sarasota visitor -- peddled to investors in several cities including Sarasota, looking for investors. These rookies in filmmaking got their money's worth in status enhancing, if not returns yet.

Before the show, the "Dealmakers" as investors were dubbed were asked to stand for a round of applause. Only a half-dozen or so people rose, and some must have been riding family tuxedo coattails. The end credits thanked 16 investors ((or so, since one was a group endeavor) from Sarasota, Chicago, New York and Toronto. That's an average of 4 checkbooks per city, so Sarasota is pretty much on par.

Never found any of the Dealmakers after the show to ask what they think of the process and Macy's movie. I'm sure they wouldn't say "mud" if they had a mouthful.

The Deal is a pretty good effort, genuinely hilarious at times and frustrating at others, even to someone like me with a decent idea of how the industry works. It wouldn't play well in Peoria, I imagine.

The best part about The Deal is that Meg Ryan -- who I've ragged on for a few years now -- has her best role in ages and flies with it. She plays a studio project developer being duped by a suicidal producer (Macy) into financing a script written as an art house historical epic then warped into a cheesy action flick starring an African-American Bruce Willis (LL Cool J). Ryan finally acts her age while the cosmetic tinkering she has undergone to maintain that illusion perfectly fits the character.

Di and I briefly stopped by the after-show party to see if any Dealmakers were around. You'd never find them in the human mass crowding the courtyard at Ringling Museum. People in Sarasota love their parties.

I did run into Macy, who thanked me for the interview and is just as nice as you'd expect him to be. Bill (he told me to call him that) was visibly pleased with the response to The Deal:

"That audience got the movie better than the one at Sundance," he said. "Sometimes when you make a movie about the movies, people turn up their nose because they think they know it all. This crowd laughed at the right places.

I suggested that he had a bit of a home field advantage with Dealmakers and their friends in the theater. "Yeah, a little bit I guess. But this was very encouraging. We're close to selling this thing (to a distributor) and this should help."

Sarasota bound, and boating with the A-Train

What's the emoticon for "embarrassed?" I'm still pissed about rushing through the Leatherheads review Tuesday morning, and nobody noticing a glaring mistake until it was published.

Yes, folks, I know there weren't Nazis in World War I. Doesn't mean I can't type it. The correction ran today on 2B (no, it wasn't part of the no-gossip-day plan) but the gloating e-mails and phone messages haven't stopped. I made some insecure people's day.

So, after kicking Mojo (just kidding!) and cranking out more closely scrutinized stuff for next Weekend, I'm off to pick up Princess Di and head to Sarasota for the film festival's opening night screening of The Deal. I'll post some impressions later, and before Saturday's shindig that will make this week worth slogging through.

Tomorrow I'll again be a dignitary at the Chasco Fiesta Boat Parade in New Port Richey where I was (as Daly would say) reared. Usually I'm a miscreant at Chasco events but "dignitary" will do for a day. Di and I will be riding on one of the boat-floats, waving at folks along the Cotee riverside. The theme is something like "Hooray for Hollywood" after making the trip last year as a hometown boy made semi-good.

Tampa Bay Buccaneers great (no matter what Daly believes) Mike Alstott is the grand marshal, and I'm looking forward to seeing him again at our Hooters pre-and-post parade gatherings. The last time was when I tossed the first pitch at a (then-Devil) Rays game against the Mets. Mike was sitting in a box behind us and signed the ball.

Should be fun, then we'll hit Jilly's, an NPR institution owned by friends. Hope your weekend rocks, too.

Mr Holland and Steven Tyler's Opus

A decade ago, the Sarasota Film Festival was a blip on the city’s tony social calendar; one weekend, eight films and a wrap party. These days, eight movies and a shindig might be accomplished at the festival in a single day.

From modest beginnings, the Sarasota Film Festival has evolved into something worth the community bragging about. Now it is a 10-day event (Apr. 4-13) with more than 200 works from 30 countries, plus an array of special events. The guest list is more impressive each year. Film industry insiders regularly rate it among the nation’s top cinema showcases.

“It sends a statement that we’re here and we’re here to stay,” said executive director Jody Kielbasa who, along with keen programmer Tom Hall, has overseen the festival’s growth.

Kielbasa said the turning point was 2003 when Academy Award winner Richard Dreyfuss visited to pick up a career achievement award, and Aerosmith played at the wrap party.

“You just got a real sense that this was something special, something unique that was transforming our community in a lot of ways,” Kielbasa said. “Frankly, it was hard to miss. You don't get Aerosmith playing five songs at your wrap party -- free of charge, I might add -- and not make the (entertainment news) wires. That’s when our (attendance) numbers spiked dramatically. It began to take on a life of its own.”

This year's celebrity guest list includes Oscar winner Charlize Theron and her director/beau Stuart Townsend with their Battle in Seattle, William H. Macy (The Deal ), Stanley Tucci (Blind Date) -- who I spoke with on the phone recently and is just as cool and funny as you think -- plus Steve Buscemi and Liv Ullmann headlining a tribute to her collaborations with Ingmar Bergman.

Check out the Web site. You probably find something worth the gas to Sarasota.

The best foreign film of this (or last) year?

The Counterfeiters won the Oscar for best foreign language film last month, which shocked everyone I know except me, Princess Di and our Clearwater/Telluride friends who saw it last Labor Day weekend.

I didn't include The Counterfeiters on my 2007 top-10 list since it hadn't opened in local theaters, and honestly didn't seem as if it would. The Oscar changed that, so I'll consider it eligible for 2008.

You may recall my previous post about having dinner with director Stefan Ruzowitzky at the Telluride festival, that was interrupted by my winning bet with Sony Pictures Classics co-prez Tom Bernard. I assure you that my encounters with them don't color my admiration for the film.

Ruzowitzky fashions a different sort of Holocaust movie, in which Jewish concentration camp prisoners are victims with guile, and perhaps the upper hand on their Nazi captors. Based on a true story, The Counterfeiters is constantly entertaining, while not ignoring the horror or emotional uplift of previous films on the topic.

Salomon “Sali” Sorowitsch (Karl Markovics) is known as the world’s greatest forger, making his capture a feather in the cap of policeman Friedrich Herzog (Devid Streisow). Five years later, Herzog is the commandant of a camp where Sali and other experienced forgers are gathered.

The Nazis plan to flood and ruin Allied economies with bogus money. The prisoners will make it work, or die refusing. Sali realizes the importance of the scheme, using it to his advantage, or so he thinks. By the conclusion, we are familiar with an overlooked angle of the Holocaust, the sharp divisions among prisoners and the survival instincts keeping them together.

Ruzowitzky scores his film with tango rhythms, underlining the dance of motives and personalities that Sali and Herzog perform. He takes a historic episode that we think the movies have covered completely and thrillingly proves us wrong.

The Counterfeiters opens April 4, probably at only one or two theaters. It's worth seeking out, along with the full review in next Thursday's Weekend.

What's The Deal with William H. Macy?

Academy Award nominee William H. Macy’s fifth visit to the Sarasota Film Festival next week won’t be as leisurely as before.

In past years, Macy touted TV-movies that already had network slots, picked up a career achievement award then watched his wife Felicity Huffman awarded the same.

Macy also made friends who helped finance The Deal, an inside-Hollywood satire opening the 10-day festival on April 4. Tickets for that event and others are available at the festival Web site.

Investors and friends they wish to impress will attend opening night, in a social scene where impressions are everything. Nearly half of the film’s $8-million budget was raised in Sarasota and Manatee Counties (plus Chicago and New York), from well-heeled silent partners adding a touch of Hollywood to their lives.

“There’s an astounding amount of money in that part of the state,” Macy said during a telephone interview. “People would give us their cards and say: ‘If you ever want to make a movie, maybe I’d be interested in investing.’

“Well, the joke was on them because we kept the cards.”

Macy co-wrote the screenplay for The Deal with director Steven Schachter, ironically starring as a conniving movie producer desperately seeking a hit. Macy approached his first hands-on producer’s credit with humility and transparency his film character wouldn’t understand.

“For the first time, I was the one looking people in the eye, saying: ‘Give me your money and I think we’ll get it back,’” Macy said. “That comes with a heavy responsibility. My reputation and my word are on the line.”

On the phone, Macy sounds like the kind of guy I'd trust with a few thousands of my dollars, if I had any to spare. Read the rest of his interview Friday in Floridian, advancing the Sarasota festival opening next week.

Don't get too close to the monitor...

... I'm not sure if I'm contagious or not. Been laid low the past few days with this creeping crud that my boss, The Divine Ms. S, apparently passed off to me Saturday night at the Sunscreen Film Festival. She has been trying to get me to take a day off for a while but it didn't work; I just wrote at home.

Between emptying my phlegm spittoon and scaring the pets with my banshee coughs, I neglected to mention how much fun Sunscreen's presentation of Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation turned out to be.

Picture and sound clarity was what you'd expect from middle-schoolers shooting with Betamax equipment 25 years ago; maybe straining my ears contributed to the nose and throat problems later. But the word that kept popping into my mind was: "fearless." Those kids had absolutely no idea of what they shouldn't have been able to do, or that lawyers might object, or that fire stunts can kill.

When it ended, I waited to chat with director Eric Zala -- now approaching middle age -- and got a kick out of two boys, just about his age when Raiders was remade, looking up at him like he was some kind of superhero. The spark of a dream, perhaps, and I couldn't avoid smiling.

Also wanted to drop in the Sunscreen festival's award winners, announced after the Raiders screening.

I was very pleased to see Holler Back: (Not) Voting in an American Town take the best documentary prize. Of all the Sunscreen entries (and I didn't see them all), that one seems to have the best chance of breaking into the mainstream.

Broke Sky was named best feature, while The Art of Pain took the audience award (perhaps because it had much of its avuncular cast attending and they stuffed the ballot box).

Best Florida Film award, named for Sunscreen patrons Stan and Cindy Heitman, went to Pawn'd, a Clerks-style comedy set in a pawn shop.

Michael Knowles was named best director for One Night (one I missed).

Other prizes were awarded to Through Any Window (best music video... and it starred The Office's hottie Jenna Fischer), Glitch (best animated film), and Rabia (best short).

Overall, a nice step forward for Sunscreen, although co-founder Tony Armer's prediction of thousands attending was obviously exaggerated -- which a Gasparilla Film Festival spokesman gladly pointed out to me in an e-mail. Maybe one sign that Tampa Bay is becoming a nice place for festivals isn't the number we have but the competitive sniping to ensue as each tries to stake out its territory.

Sunscreen film fest underway

The third annual Sunscreen Film Festival, a showcase of barely discovered cinema talent continues through Saturday at the Renaissance Vinoy Resort and Golf Club in St. Petersburg.

Seventy-three film and video works – shorts, documentaries and features – crowd the Sunscreen festival. Complete information is available on the festival Web site.

Tonight’s 8 p.m. centerpiece is the world premiere of Matt Brookens’ The Art of Pain, a dark comedy that errs on the side of ambition – which isn’t always a bad thing. Brookens is a fanboy breezing through genres – kung fu, rom-com, zombies, Kevin Smith buddy flicks, etc. -- proving he can ably replicate and spoof them, in service of a slowly congealing plot.

Jack (Anders Erickson) is a budding artist working at a movie theater alongside his girlfriend (Lauren Bishop) and a comic-book geek (Greg Brookens). A new employee (John LaFlamboy) is a ninja school washout believing that ruining Jack’s life will enhance his art. It doesn’t need to be every aspect of Jack’s life but Brookens insists, sprucing up repetition with eye-catching animation and fantasy sequences.

The Art of Pain is emblematic of a first-showcase festival like Sunscreen; obviously the result of talent and ingenuity yet likely not a breakout effort. But it does entertain and can possibly inspire other filmmakers. Brookens’ movie and his future are worth watching.

Friday highlights include the voter apathy documentary Holler Back: (Not) Voting  in an American Town (2:45 p.m.), and the world premiere of Screw Cupid (5:30), a romantic comedy crisply written and directed by Sanjeev Sirpal.

Friday also offers the first showing of Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation (9:30), a shot-by-shot remake of Steven Spielberg’s classic, done by three Mississippi teenagers in the 1980’s. This underground sensation plays again Saturday at 6:30 p.m., the final screening before the closing night party at 8:45.

Sunscreen is also about educating film artists, with seminars planned on subjects ranging from screenwriting (Friday, 4 p.m.) and distribution tactics (Saturday, 10 a.m.) to nailing that acting audition (today, 10 a.m.).

Of course, there are parties including tonight’s Fort Pastor concert at State Theater, 687 Central Ave in St. Petersburg. Tickets are $10 for the 8 p.m. show. Friday night’s shindig is a Central Ave. block party between 2nd and 4th streets where filmmakers will mingle. Admission is free with cash bars up and down the street.

Better jump on those Sarasota Film Fest tix!

Anyone making the trek to Sarasota's cinema showcase -- and it is worth it, I assure you -- should visit the festival Web site muy pronto and stake your claim for seats. The 10-day festival begins April 4.

Over 200 films are included this year, many of them accompanied by their creators and other celebrities. This year's guest list includes Oscar winner Charlize Theron, should-be Oscar winners Stanley Tucci and William H. Macy, and indie film fave Steve Buscemi.

Gov. Charlie Crist hasn't starred in a movie yet but he'll be there, too.

Complete information and sales are available on the Web site, or your can call the ticket and information line at 1-866-575-FILM or 1-941-366-6200. Or, you can drop by the festival box office in Sarasota Main Plaza, adjacent to Hollywood 20 (where most screenings occur)  at 1991 Main Street, Suite 108.

Single film tickets are $9, except for opening and closing night shows that are $20. Parties and special events are various prices and worth every penny. Don't be shut out!

Going back to Indiana (Jones)

Betcha can't wait for that Indiana Jones sequel this summer, when we find out if the years and mileage have been kind to Harrison Ford.

You can recall Indy as a younger man --€“ actually, a middle-school kid -- at the third annual Sunscreen Film Festival, held March 19-22 in St. Petersburg.

In 1982, three Mississippi preteen boys were so enthralled by Raiders of the Lost Ark that they decided to remake it, shot-by-shot using a rented video camera, makeshift props and a lot of spunk. They were voting age when they finished.

Steven Spielberg spent a year and $26-million making Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Eric Zala, Jayson Lamb and Chris Strompolos did it for $5,000 during seven summer vacations.

Zala, now 37, directed the remake and played Belloq the bad guy. He’ll explain how it all happened at two Sunscreen showings of Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation on March 21 and 22. Details and tickets for those events and others are available on the festival Web site.

"€œIt'€™s very cool to have the best parts of your childhood set in order to John Williams'€™ music,"€ said Zala by telephone from Washington, D.C. where his movie was being shown at the Smithsonian Institution.

That's a better gig than the Coca-Cola bottling plant where the remake played once in 1989 to 200 friends and family members before being stashed it away for 15 years. Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation resurfaced at an Austin, Tex. film festival in 2003 when director Eli Roth (Hostel) brought a VHS copy and suggested it as a time-filler.

Zala told me a karmically amusing story about the projector breaking down shortly before an advance screening of The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, making a sold-out audience antsy. Someone plugged in Roth’s copy for amusement. The crowd warmed to it, even booed when the projector was fixed, stopping the video tape before they could see Strompolos mimic Indy'€™s famous truck-chase fight.

"That'€™s the highest compliment I can think of," Zala said.

Check Friday's Floridian for, as Paul Harvey says, the rest of the story.

Kelly Preston gets down on her knees for me

Okay, so it wasn't like Tom Cruise rushing to the aid of a car accident victim, but maybe there's something about Scientology when it comes to just being nice to strangers.

Last night at Push Ultra Lounge, I had an embarrassing moment when introduced to John Travolta and Kelly Preston, who were there to support the upcoming Sunscreen Film Festival. While shaking hands, I fumbled my digital voice recorder -- do they have to make modern technology so darn small? -- and it skittered on the floor underneath who knows what, in all that chic nightclub darkness that an old fogey like me isn't accustomed to.

Anyway, it only a 7-minute or so chat, so the old school scribble-on-a-notepad routine had to do, and did pretty well, I think.

When our interview ended, Travolta and Preston were called away by a p.r. rep to schmooze with other guests, giving me a chance to peek under the couches for my recorder (do they have to make modern comfort so darn short and cramped?)

But Preston stayed behind, asking security for a flashlight to make the search easier. I thanked her and said I'd take care of it, so she should go and have fun. I got down on the floor, peering under the furniture. My eyes scanned at floor level until they zeroed in on Preston's bent knees pointed at me, her hair cascading to the floor while she scanned at the same level. (No Scientology puns intended.)

"Kelly, get up, don't do that," I pleaded, not wanting to embarrass her (or me) any further. She wouldn't stop trying to help, though. Within seconds that felt like minutes, a flashlight arrived and we found the recorder -- in a spot where it shouldn't logically have ended up, but where Preston had pointed out as a possibility before. Feeling a bit psychic, too?

Anyway, thanks again Mrs. Travolta. The move wasn't exactly classy but the intent surely was.

 

Sunscreen screenings

While prepping for tonight's Sunscreen Film Festival kickoff soiree with John Travolta -- an affair closed to the public, so don't even try -- I'm checking out screener dvds of several Sunscreen entries.

The festival runs from March 19-22, mostly at the Renaissance Vinoy Resort (but not the Golf Club since all those screens would interfere with the game). You can find info at the festival Web site. Here are a few dvd impressions, so far:

The opening night centerpiece (7 p.m. @ Baywalk 20) is Thomas L. Callaway's Broke Sky, a Coenesque mystery with all the exaggerated characters and eccentric touches that description suggests. Callaway's idolatry of the Coens is evident, and his osmosis of films like Blood Simple (for the drama) and Raising Arizona (for the comedy) mostly pays off.

Bucky (Will Wallace) and Earl (Joe Unger) work for a Texas county's animal control department, making the first 30 minutes a roadkill primer, setting up a silly, gross vibe. The guys' quirky personal problems and solutions just begin to get stale when the mystery kicks in. A hitchhiker they picked up is discovered dead in a well. Bucky wants to call the sheriff but Earl won't, for reasons he won't discuss.

Right away we're suspicious, so Callaway must go to some highly improbable lengths to justify another hour of making us wonder. Meanwhile, he needs to return to subplots with Bucky's dying-to-be-pregnant wife and Earl's grungy father (Bruce Glover in full effect grotesqueness). The resolution is a head-shaker but the path to it hints at a filmmaker with talent.

Broke Sky is stranger than the non-fiction Sunscreen selections I've seen.

Adrian Belic's Beyond the Call (March 22, 12:45 p.m.) follows a humanitarian trio to international hotspots. Ed Artis is a former helicopter gunner giving away live-saving supplies for 30 years. He's joined by financial backer Dr. Jim Laws and revenues manager Walt Ratterman. The documentary focuses upon their work from Afghanistan (that began before 9/11) to the Philippines where discount offers for medical supplies stuns U.S. Army reps. From its first shots to a Taiwan emergency, Belic's documentary is an engrossing world tour of compassion and modest heroism.

Inside the Handy Writers' Colony (March 22, 2:45 p.m.) is a treasure trove for literature buffs, a profile of the writers refuge built in the 1950s by Lowney Handy, not far from the birthplace of From Here to Eternity author James Jones, a colony charter member. Jane Alexander narrates Handy's writings about nurturing Jones through that novel, and the growth of her influence on other inspired writers until her death. Without any distractions, this creative commune and its results is inspiring to anyone longing to be a writer.

Holler Back: (Not) Voting in an American Town is an interesting civics lesson, focused on a Pennsylvania county in 2004 during a tight election season. Filmmaker Lulu Fries'dat follows Republican and Democratic advocates from other states who converge to swing voter turnout in their party's favor.  That begs the question of why voters need to be arm-twisted into casting ballots. Holler Back... spends a lot of time with those folks, asking why they aren't involved. A broken political system inspires the advocates while discouraging the non-voters, and Fries'dat confidently, fairly breaks it down.

Closer to home, Jamin Griffith's  FEMA City chronicles tough times in Charlotte County after Hurricane Charley passed through in 2004. Three years later, temporary housing and permanent hardship is still everywhere. Griffith's exploration -- not expose' since the material is so familiar -- is solid, if unspectacular human interest videojournalism.

More to come when I have time to check out more screeners.

 

Fewer Blood Feast photos (not for the squeamish)

Here's the now-infamous fake blood splatter on the Channelside Cinemas screen. That's the two Andys fretting  about scrubbing it off before the multiplex police caught us; me bidding the crowd adieu; and cleaning up the carnage. Click on the photos for larger images.

Blog visitor SteveS (father of Daydreamer screenwriter Adam Sigal), posted: "Hahaha. This was the talk of the Festival yesterday. Persall got nominated for a special effects award afterwards. (not)" Thanks, pal.

Princess Di (or "that other woman" as described by an editor who asked me to take down a couple pix) is always there to make mutilation more fun. Thanks to my Juno-like pal Hope for the pix!

Gasparilla Film Festival closing night winners & fotos

Just got back from the closing night party for the Gasparilla Film Festival, and those folks have something to celebrate. The final numbers will be forthcoming but executive director John Rosser told me they're looking at three times last year's ticket sales -- a nice leap from practically nowhere.

Looks like Tampa (and ...Bay by extension, if you don't mind traffic) has a solid foundation for future film festival success.

The shindig at Florida Aquarium was packed, a bit pickled and proud of the past five days.

Lots of nice people to chat up, including "rising star" award winner Brittany Snow (Hairspray, the upcoming Prom Night update) and Shane West (ER, League of Extraordinary Boredom uhhh, Gentlemen) who earned a special acting prize for What We Do is Secret, in which he plays Darby Crash, lead singer of the 70's punk band, the Germs. (Snow and West share a laugh at right.)

Awards were presented to Gunn Highway for best locally produced film, young filmmaker Nadia Samova (twice for Oneiric), and The Flock, a Richard Gere thriller that needed chairs moved into an auditorium Saturday night to accommodate the overflow crowd. The Flock is produced by Bauer-Martinez Studios -- which has offices worldwide including right here in Largo. BMS president Phillippe Martinez (at left) accepted the award.

Other winners included American Fork (grand jury prize), the trucker documentary Big Rig (grand jury special mention), Fly Boys (audience choice, best narrative),  Tocar y Luchar (audience choice, best documentary)  and Ariel Kiebble with a special mention acting prize for Daydreamer.

BTW: Daydreamer is written by Adam Sigal, who reminded me that we once conversed in a St. Petersburg College film studies class about the works of Stanley Kubrick. The former Clearwater resident is doing well in L.A. now, regularly playing poker with roommates Paul and West. He's sending me a DVD screener of Daydreamer since I couldn't make the Sunday screening.

What? No award for the Blood Feast retrospective? Hey, we cleaned up the screen. (photos to come when Hope ships 'em to me.)

Big props go to Rosser and festival prez Eric Odum, who came up with this great idea last year and just needed someone savvy like Rosser to make it happen.

Blood on the screen

I hadn't told many people that Blood Feast director Herschell Gordon Lewis planned to slit my throat last night. Just enough for a conviction if the stunt went wrong.

The gash-gag was the two Andys' idea -- Andy Lalino and Andrew Allan of Film Ranch Intl., a local horror flick production company. They figured having the Godfather of Gore killing me would be a great finish to last night's Blood Feast screening and Q&A with Herschell and producer David Friedman at the Gasparilla Film Festival. My editors have thought the same about any number of events.

Anyway, the Andys rigged me up with a fake blood tube with a plastic syringe I'd push slowly, releasing a stream of red, red krovy (Clockwork Orange fans know what I mean) at my throat. Kind of like Sweeney Todd without the singing. Herschell would be "goaded" by a bogus question about critical dismissal of his movies then give me a too-close shave.

The evening was wonderful, with around 175 horror fans gathering at a pre-show reception -- excellent job of turning a stairway landing into a great party site, GFF gurus -- and laughing at all the right places during the movie. Herschell and David were delightful during the Q&A. Everyone seemed to be having a ball.

When time came to give Herschell his cue question, I fumbled with readying the blood rig, trying not to be noticed by the audience. Herschell made a slashing motion with a plastic Egyptian knife and I started pumping the plunger, screaming bloody murder. The audience cheered but I barely noticed since the plunger was jammed.

I pushed harder and it came free. Too free. The fake blood missed my throat and splashed onto Herschell standing behind me.  He reflexively ducked backward. The spray continued onto the screen, creating a perfect kill-splash pattern for CSI training. I heard the crowd that time, a blend of grossed-out groan and admiring moan that must be why folks like the Andys make their movies.

The screen cleaned up faster than Herschell.

I immediately recalled Herschell telling me last week about wanting to deck a fan in Baltimore who splashed fake blood on him as a surprise. He was incredibly gracious, accepting my gushing apologies and the two Andys giving him a damp paper towel bath (see photo).

Hoping to get more photos -- perhaps some video -- of the whole messy affair posted later.

Time to resurrect the spirit of Ishtar

No, not Warren Beatty/Dustin Hoffman's debacle. But it makes sense that the Egyptian god revived by cannibalized body parts in Blood Feast was named Ishtar long before the movie Ishtar became cinematic road kill.

This is the day I've been waiting for, as have the smartest of you. Tonight we unleash the groundbreaking gore film Blood Feast at the second annual Gasparilla Film Festival. They even named the event GASParilla for the evening in honor of our esteemed guests, director Herschell Gordon Lewis and producer David F. Friedman. These two ballyhoo legends will accompanying the 45th anniversary screening at 9 p.m., and take questions from yours truly after the show.

This is going to be one for the scrapbooks, folks.

Before that extravaganza, though, the festival has plenty of films slated including an assortment of short films at 5:30 p.m. in honor of National Womens Month. I had a chance to preview one titled Loose Ends, directed by Rachel Gordon, and it's a delightful story of a woman who is the victim of identity theft -- both financially and personally -- who gets one of those problems straightened out in briskly humorous fashion.

Check out today's events at Channelside, or one of three showings of the shark documentary Requiem at Florida Aquarium just down the street. The Gasparilla Film Festival wraps up Sunday with a full day of films and the closing night gala at the Big Fish Tank.

Before the fun, though, Princess Di and I will join hundreds of others at the celebration of life for our dear, departed friend, WTSP-TV weatherman Dick Fletcher. Godspeed, bud.

Tampa Bay Jewish Film Festival announces lineup

The 12th Annual Tampa Bay Jewish Film Festival will run March 4-19 at theaters around Tampa Bay including the Tampa Theatre, Baywalk Muvico in St. Petersburg, and at the University of South Florida Health Sciences Auditorium.

The lineup includes a dozen feature-length films and two shorts, all focused upon the international Jewish experience. 

Film descriptions, directions to theaters and advance purchase tickets are available online at the Tampa JCC website at www.jewishtampa.com or the Golda Meir/Kent Jewish Center website at www.gmkjc.org.

The opening night 7 p.m. centerpiece at Tampa Theatre is Making Trouble, director Rachel Talbot's documentary tribute to six legendary American Jewish women comedians: Molly Picon, Fanny Brice (don't rain on her parade), Sophie Tucker, Joan Rivers (well, they can't all be funny), Wendy Wasserstein and Saturday Night Live legend Gilda Radner.

(What? No Sarah Silverman? Must be because she's boffing Matt Damon.)

The careers of these women are discussed by a quartet of four leading Jewish comedians - Judy Gold, Jackie Hoffman, Cory Kahaney and Jessica Kirson who, according to the news release: "meet in New York's Katz's Delicatessen in a scenario straight out of Woody Allen's Broadway Danny Rose."

Kahaney, a Last Comic Standing finalist, will appear at the opening night screening to discuss her craft. Tickets are $15 in advance and $18 on day-of-show. There's a reception, too.

All other screenings are $5 if purchased in advance, $8 at the door with discounts for seniors and students. All-screening festival passes are available to anyone donating donate $150 or more.

Sarasota Film Festival announces 2008 lineup

Now 10 years old, the Sarasota Film Festival is one of the most respected in the U.S. I've had a lot of great times there, from interviewing the late director Robert Altman to pissing off Oscar winning screenwriter Robert Towne, from meeting Joe Bob Briggs to sharing smokes with Justin Long (the Mac guy, Dodgeball, Live Free or Die Hard) and Alan Tudyk (Dodgeball, Death at a Funeral) before anyone knew who they are. You don't want to know what I saw Joe Pantoliano doing last year.

This year's edition -- running April 4-13 -- looks like the Sarasota folks aren't through building their reputation. The lineup includes sidebar tribute to Israel@60: The Diaspora and Beyond, the late Ingmar Bergman and his favorite star, Liv Ullmann, a career achievement fete for Stanley Tucci (I have to talk to him about The Imposters, one of the sorely underrated films of the past few years). Tucci will be introduced by Steve Buscemi, who as we all know from Reservoir Dogs doesn't tip.

Oscar winner Charlize Theron will also be honored on closing night, along with producer Ted Hope (In the Bedroom, The Savages).