La Vie en Rose
Grade: B+

Even if you think you’ve had it with biopics about musicians who escape squalid childhoods to become rich and famous substance abusers, you should give this portrait of French singer Edith Piaf a whirl for the great tunes and Marion Cotillard’s powerhouse performance. In nonchronological sequence writer/director Olivier Dahan depicts Piaf’s career highlights and the tumultuous lifestyle that led to her early death, concluding that her love for the bottle and the needle forever thwarted her search for romantic love. The lavish concert halls and the Parisian fashions provide delicious eye candy. Still, a more concise editing job would have trimmed a welcome 30 minutes off this long and exhausting saga.
Opens June 8th in limited release.

Opening in late June:

You Kill Me
Grade: C

John Dahl’s directing career got off to an auspicious start with the terrific thrillers Red Rock West and The Last Seduction, but his latest suggests that he ought to take after Stella and get his groove back. Most of the dialogue is flat, the actors look bored and the two major plot lines merge unconvincingly. In a role that leaves him awkwardly stranded somewhere between Gandhi and his vicious character in Sexy Beast, Ben Kingsley plays an alcoholic hit man with a heart of gold, trying to dry out in San Francisco and get into Téa Leoni’s pants. Luke Wilson has a small and dull role as Kingsley’s gay AA mentor.

I believe that HBO is currently showing this documentary. It comes out on DVD in October, and you can check the following link to see if it's playing at a theater near you: http://www.breakthrufilms.org/trials/screenings.html

The Trials of Darryl Hunt
Grade: A

Co-directors Anne Sundberg and Ricki Stern earned an Independent Spirit Award nomination for this fascinating and infuriating documentary about racism in the North Carolina justice system. In 1984, a jury wrongly convicted a young black man named Darryl Hunt for the rape and murder of a white woman. Despite a dearth of conclusive evidence against him, he spent 20 years in prison before the court finally exonerated him. Sundberg and Stern strike a perfect balance of interview, courtroom and TV news footage. This is hard-nosed reporting, but be sure to keep some Kleenex handy for the cathartic conclusion.

Fay Grim

Grade: B+

In the mid-1990s Lili Taylor had a legitimate claim to the title of "America's Greatest It Girl," but I think Parker Posey edged her out with her madcap, wise ass performances in classic indies like Party Girl, The Daytrippers and The House of Yes. Apart from a great part in Rebecca Miller's Personal Velocity and her hilarious antics in Christopher Guest's ensemble comedies, she's recently been relegated to thankless supporting roles in crappy movies (Superman Returns, anyone?).

So even though Fay Grim - Hal Hartley's sequel to his 1997 film Henry Fool - is no masterpiece, it's a treat to see Parker back in a leading role that gives her room to do her trademark pratfalls and wisecracks, with moments of high drama that prove that she can hold her own as a dramatic actor.

The espionage plot is convoluted and, at times, difficult to follow. At the outset Fay worries that her 14-year-old son will turn out like his slob father Henry Fool, who disappeared years ago under mysterious circumstances. Two Feds (one played by Jeff Goldblum) show up and drop that bomb that Henry used to be a spy, and Fay agrees to acquire some of his top secret documents in Paris on the condition that her poet/convict brother Simon be released from prison.

The first hour buzzes along at a steady and entertaining clip, but there are some really sluggish sequences in the final stretch.

In a strange marketing move that mirrors the release of Steven Soderbergh's Bubble last year, Magnolia Pictures released Fay Grim in a limited number of theaters on May 18, and proceeded to release it on DVD five days later. By all means support this low-budget feature at the theater if you have some extra cash, but, truth be told, I doubt it loses much in translation to the TV screen.

Sounds of Spring

A recent deluge of intriguing new releases set me off on a downloading binge that left my wallet empty and my overworked iPod begging for a mental health day. Here's a rundown of my findings for your listening and purchasing pleasure:

Joan Armatrading Into the Blues (429 Records): With a songbook that contains a fierce fistful of genre-bending classics like "Cool Blue Stole My Heart" and "I'm Lucky," the Caribbean-born Armatrading is a maverick in my book even though she hasn't broken any new ground in new years. Now she's back with a sexy, soulful album that recalls her best work from the 1970s and 1980s.

Tori Amos American Doll Posse (Epic): Once again, the incomparable chanteuse of hormonal imbalance has concocted an epic song cycle that is alternatingly brilliant and monotonous. But when it's good it's really good, particularly on giddy upbeat tracks like "Secret Spell" and "Big Wheel." True to Amos form, this is a "concept" album that's comprehensible only to Tori. There are five members of the "doll posse" (Isabel, Clyde, Pip, Santa, Tori) who take turns singing the song. I've listened to the album many times and I still have no clue how to figure out when or why the narrators shift.

Bjork Volta (Atlantic): I'm a big fan of Bjork's early solo work, especially Debut, Post and Selmasongs (the soundtrack from Dancer in the Dark). But her 2004 effort Medulla left me cold, and her bonkers swan dress persona has started to feel a bit forced to me. Some critics have called Volta a return to Bjork's early funky pop form, and that's certainly true on superfun tracks like "Earth Intruders" and "Innocence." Many of the other songs blur together, though, resulting in an album that's best suited for background ambient techno noise when you're trying to convince guests that you're hipper than your Dionne Warwick collection suggests.

Rufus Wainwright Release the Stars (Geffen): Ah, Rufus, the adorable gay offspring of folkies Loudon Wainwright III and Kate McGarrigle. He started off in 1998 with an audacious self-titled debut, and proceeded to release the phenomenal Poses in 2001. Just when his sound seemed to be baked to perfection, he lost some of his lyrical touch and veered off into really annoying Gershwin rip-off territory with the separately released Want One and Want Two. I felt pretty ambivalent about last week's release of his latest CD, Release the Stars, but I fished it off the Internet to find that it's definitely a step in the right direction, but not a true return to form. The single "Going to a Town" and "Between My Legs" are my faves so far.

Pink Martini Hey Eugene! (Heinz): The hip and lush world music outfit Pink Martini has been a local phenomenon since I moved to Portland in 1997, winning an international following (particularly French) with their debut CD Sympathique. It took them seven years to release their 2004 follow-up, Hang On Little Tomato, which makes it all the more surprising that it only took them three years to cook up their latest. I'm not a huge fan of suave 1960s throwback music (band leader Thomas Lauderdale himself describes Pink Martini as the touring band for the 1962 United Nations), but it's nice to throw it on when I'm fixing dinner and don't want to think too much about heady lyrics.

Feist The Reminder (Interscope Records): Not much to report here, since I haven't spent much time listening to it or Feist's previous hit album Let It Die. She has a lovely voice though, and her impressive sales at local indie stores makes me want to hear more.

Clash of the Titans

Here's the preview article I wrote about an upcoming Portland production of Austin Pendleton's acclaimed play Orson' s Shadow. The show runs from May 22 to July 1 at Artists Repertory Theatre.

In 1960 two of the greatest screen and theater legends of the twentieth century collaborated on a London stage production, and quickly discovered that the spotlight is only big enough for one egomaniacal genius.
Still riding on the fumes of fame from his 1941 classic Citizen Kane, Orson Welles agreed to direct Laurence Olivier in Eugène Ionesco’s absurdist play Rhinoceros. Playwright Austin Pendleton envisions the catty exchanges that ensued in Orson’s Shadow, the biting comedy that brings Artists Repertory Theatre’s season to a close. ART’s Associate Artistic Director Jon Kretzu helms the show.
“It was a marriage made someplace in hell,” says Kretzu, who is gay. “They were both used to getting their own way.”
Olivier’s lover and Rhinoceros co-star Joan Plowright also figures prominently in Orson’s Shadow, along with British theater critic Kenneth Tynan and Oliver’s mentally ill wife Vivien Leigh. Todd Van Voris and David Carey Foster lead the cast as Welles and Olivier, respectively.
Though the play contains no explicit gay content, Kretzu explains why it should have plenty of appeal for queer audiences. “Anytime there’s a play about theater folk there’s a certain gay sensibility,” he says. “This is one of the best cocktail parties you can be at. The gay audience will have a field day.”
On a juicier level, just about every celebrity depicted in the play is rumored to have indulged in same-sex escapades. In reference to Olivier’s sexuality, playwright and musician Noel Coward said he possessed “a puppy-like acquiescence to all experiences.” Some biographers have speculated that Olivier had an affair with entertainer Danny Kaye, but these claims are meagerly substantiated.
“Vivien Leigh supposedly had her share of lesbian experiences,” Kretzu says. “She pretty much screwed anything that breathed.”
He adds that Welles - who had three wives including Rita Hayworth – is rumored to have done some switch-hitting in his younger days.
Pendleton captures these icons at crossroads, collaborating on a play none of them likes in the hopes that it will lead to film deals. “It’s a remarkable and clever play,” Kretzu says. “It’s so dangerous to write about these people, and on top of that it could easily have been just a string of in-jokes.”

Ugly Dolls Rule!

A few months ago I walked into a local children's store to buy a present for my friend's daughter, and I discovered a bin of cuddly, hideous creatures called Ugly Dolls. I instantly fell in love with their misshapen bodies and their bucktoothed grins and grimaces. Yesterday Drew gave me one as a surprise gift. I haven't named the little bugger yet, but I've given her/him/it permanent accomodations in the master bedroom.

Visit www.uglydolls.com to see their full line of reasonably priced hobgoblins.

Spider-Man 3
Grade: B-

The third time is not the charm for writer/director Sam Raimi, who spins so many plot webs that you can barely tell who’s fighting whom by the final reel. Thanks to the $258 million budget there’s no shortage of eye-popping special effects, and there’s a smattering of standout performances from James Franco, Rosemary Harris and Bruce Campbell. But tossing three villains into the mix has a curiously dampening effect on the action, and Peter’s journey to the “dark side” is too goofy to be even remotely menacing. Lastly, Peter’s stuttering romance with Mary Jane climbs to new heights of insipidness.

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (Vintage, $14.95)

Colombian author Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1982, is best known for his sprawling family epic One Hundred Years of Solitude. I read parts of that novel in Spanish in college, and a few years ago I attempted to read the English translation. Even though the language and the Magic realism (blending magical elements into a realistic setting) captivated me, I never fell in love with the characters or the headache-inducing intricacies of the multigenerational family tree.

Fearing a repeat of Solitude, I put off reading Garcia Marquez's 1988 novel Love in the Time of Cholera for years. This week, after removing it from its dust-gathering slot on my bookshelf, I was thrilled to discover a gorgeously written, shamelessly romantic novel that - thanks to the author's constant dry wit - never gets bogged down in syrupy storytelling. Set in a South American country on the Caribbean coast, it takes place between the late 1800s and about 1930, chronicling Florentino Ariza's 50 year campaign to win back the love of his teenage sweetheart, Fermina Daza, despite the fact that she's in a reasonably solid marriage with the respected Dr. Juvenal Urbino. The title refers to the cholera epidemics that rage throughout South America (though Dr. Juvenal Urbino safeguards his region against the disease by enforcing top-notch sanitation practices). The whole book is a treat, though the last 50 pages showcase a truly enchanting and startling vision of the endurance of true love and the atrocities committed against nature in the name of technological progress.

In November New Line Cinema releases a film adaptation directed by Mike Newell (Four Weddings and a Funeral, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire). Javier Bardem, Catalina Sandino Moreno (Maria Full of Grace) and Benjamin Bratt lead the cast.

The Life of the Potty

After living for seven years with the garish floral wallpaper installed by our home's former owner, Drew and I decided to put our own garish floral spin on our powder room. The textured orange & gold daisy wallpaper is way trippy, and we're loving the the yellow & orange flecked lighting fixture we picked up at a secondhand store called Lounge Lizards. Using the new space to its maximum speakeasy potential may require me to sip umbrellaed bevs on the loo.

Due in theaters in late May:

Paprika
Grade: B

Sticklers for sanity should steer clear of this freaky and frantic work of Anime by Japanese director Satoshi Kon (Tokyo Godfathers). But anyone willing to forgo logic for 90 minutes will be rewarded with spectacular action sequences and the unforgettable killing rampage of a giant giggling doll. The plot concerns a female therapist who uses a new technological device to enter the dreams of her patients, a process that completely blurs the line between reality and fantasy.