Beach Day !

Trailer for Jean-Marc Vallée's Wild !!!

François Truffaut by Lillian Ross

“There’s a scene I would like to have in a film. About an elderly and prominent man. A young man comes to see him, to get something from him, to learn how achieve prominence and success. The old man is facing him this young man – virile, healthy, ambitious. All the old man tells him is ‘Play golf. Sleep eight hours a night. Do not smoke. Do not eat too much. Be sure not to put on weight.” - François Truffaut

The new book François Truffaut: from The New Yorker, 1960-1976 published by The Film Desk consist of five short featured interviews with the French director, and as the title indicates, they start in 1960 when he’s at the start of his filmmaking career all the way to 1976. Lillian Ross, who is best known for her book Picture on the making of John Huston’s The Red Badge of Courage, writes in the signature The New Yorker cosmopolitan writing style, which is attuned to larger cultural descriptions such as close details to diets, appearances, fashion, and social life just as much it does to art. These interviews make a nice counter-point to Antoine de Baecque and Serge Toubiana’s exhaustive biography and to the excited interviewer in the Hitchcock book – Truffaut’s criticism is too literary and polemic to reflect the casual generosity of these other texts or his rare media appearances.

On the Hitchcock interviews,

“From the third day on, his sensitivity emerged. He became self-critical. He described scenes in which he thought he had done something that was foolish or pretentious or careless. I was struck by the contrast between the public man, so sure of himself, so cynical, and what seemed to me to be a very vulnerable man, very emotional… And I learned what I needed to know… the principle, extremely important, that an emotion must be created on screen and then must be sustained – on the technical level as well as on the scenario level.”

Truffaut becomes just as open in these interviews with Ross. Some of Truffaut’s fascinating comments include: Morris Engel’s Little Fugitive is quoted as being a big influence on the New Wave for teaching them about the benefits of smaller, more independent productions. There are interesting remarks on his youth and childhood in general. The five films about childhood that Truffaut admires the most are Zéro de conduite by Jean Vigo (“who has had the greatest influence on my work”), The Road to Life, Germany Year Zero, Little Fugitive, and The Two of Us. (It’s a shame that he never got around to The Night of the Hunter and Moonfleet, films that would only be reevaluated after his time). Truffaut discusses his literary taste: he’s a great admirer of Henri-Pierre Roché, whose two novels Jules et Jim and Les Deux Anglaises et le continent he would adapt. Truffaut prefers the American society and their media landscape to that of the French, even though he acknowledges that it’s from the position of a visitor (his remarks of the French during the occupation and the post-68 depoliticization are especially scathing). In Paris he prefers snack bars to haute cuisine: he recommends Manny’s Bar on Rue Washington street. On Close Encounters of the Third Kind, “Spielberg telephoned him in Paris and told him he liked the way Truffaut wore an old-fashioned wristwatch and always wore a necktie.” It almost appears that he learnt English, which he speaks about at length, to read more film books as the two books he describes as Extraordinaire! (which is quoted phonetically) are Memo from David O. Selznick and Vincente Minnelli’s I Remember It Well both which he procured at the “best shop for film,” Larry Edmunds Cinema & Theatre Bookshop on Hollywood Boulevard. There is also an indelible anecdote of Truffaut going to Cinemabilia at 10 West Thirteenth Street in New York where he scours through their books. On academia, “Their interest in movies is fine, he thinks, but intellectuality about movies without enthusiasm may not be such a good thing.” Truffaut is also critical of some of his projects, and there is surprisingly little talk of Jean-Pierre Léaud or any of the other New Wave directors.

There is almost a Groundhog Day repetition at the start of each piece as Ross repeatedly describes Truffaut, his current project that brings him to town, the magazine’s relationship to him, and how many movies that he’s seen in his life. From the age of eleven to twenty-eight he’d seen 3000 films and by the last trip at age of forty-four he would have seen 2450 more, which adds up to 5450. The life of a cinephile! There is an ambivalence for Truffaut between this enthusiastic film love with a melancholic solitude. His travels are described to be lonely and he seems to really cherish his friendships, especially with Jean Renoir. There is the impression of Truffaut growing older through the sixteen years of these interviews. He becomes more mature, ages physically, learns English, and directs more films. It seems like it could be right out of Domicile Conjugal when he talks about his two daughters,

“They don’t live with me, because I am divorced, but I see them constantly. And I constantly take them to see movies. Luna is eleven, and I took her with me to see Gone with the Wind. She said, ‘It’s the most beautiful movie I have ever seen.’ Eva is eight. She compelled me to see Mary Poppins twice. Because I saw it through her eyes, I loved it. Most of the time, I wind up liking the same movies they do.”

Knowing that Truffaut died of cancer too young at the age of 52 shadows the book and makes casual observations of life, growing old and death even more melancholic. Because of this the small moments of enthusiasm and joy come off as even more important and what makes life worth living. In 1973 Ross describes him as, “He is getting more and more lovable with age (by the time he’s eighty he’ll probably be a cross between Mr. Chips and Jean Gabin).” Life is short. Make the most of it.

On Firelight

Like all children of the 1950s, young Spielberg was captivated by the flying saucer craze and wished desperately to see one for himself. He didn't, but some of his friends did. While on a Boy Scout camping trip that Steven missed, his troopmates reported seeing a brilliant circle of red light rise up over the desert and fly off into the sky. When Steven learned that he had missed out on seeing a genuine UFO, he was devastated. He vented his frustration by writing a sixty-seven-page screenplay called Firelight - the story of three mysterious balls of light that descend on a small Arizona town and begin kidnapping the inhabitants. A team of scientist investigates the mystery and eventually discovers that the kidnappings are being perpetrated by members of an alien race called the Altarians, who transport the humans to their home planet and place them in a zoo. Typical for the era, the aliens are portrayed as menacing creatures who intend to have their way with the human race by brainwashing it into submission. 

To produce Firelight, Arnold and Steven founded a partnership capped American Artist productions, with both chipping in to cover the $600 dollar cost of filming. Steven once again recruited family members, friends, and classmates to work on the movie and to perform in it. Beginning in June 1963, Steven shot scenes in his home, in the homes of friends and neighbors, and in a variety of locations around Phoenix, including Camelback Mountain, Sky Harbor Airport (where Steven managed to persuade American Airlines to allow him to film on board one of its planes in between flights), and in a variety of locations around Phoenix, including Camelback Mountain, Sky Harbor Airport (where Steven managed to persuade American Airlines to allow him to film on board one of its planes in between flights), and in the Baptist Hospital (where he was given the use of an empty room and an oxygen tank). The production attracted a great deal of attention, and the Arizona Republic published two articles and a photo spread about the movie. Steven used a wide range of effects, from miniatures to stop-motion animation to some simple but effective opticals (e.g., the firelights were created by putting gels over lights and then superimposing them on the live-action footage) to bring his story to life.

Filming wrapped in December 1963, after which Spielberg began four months of post-production. He edited all of his footage into a 135-minute final cut, often (with his mother's permission) faking sick and staying home from school to do so. He created a sound effects track and then recorded the actors' dialogue over it. Finally, he composed a score on his clarinet, which he then got his high school band to play while he taped it. By March 1964, the film was finished. Through a family friend, Steven arranged to premiere Firelight at the Phoenix Little Theatre. An extensive publicity campaign was mounted, programs were prepared, and a spotlight was borrowed from a local merchant. Steven and the cast arrived at the theater in a limo. The screening sold out (grossing an estimated $800 for a net profit of approximately $200 - Steven Spielberg's first box office success). The film made a tremendous impact, earning cheers and applause from the enthusiastic audience.

By the time Firelight was finished, Steven knew that he had found his calling. He had become enthralled with the medium of film and the power it had to grab viewers and involve them in an immediate and visceral way. Moreover, he loved being the person who made that happen ("I love to grip an audience and watch them lean forward in theirs seats.... I like involving the audience on a level of total participation") and wanted to make doing so his life's work. "I knew after my third or fourth little 8mm epic that this was going to be a career, not just a hobby...."

An extract from Close Encounters of the Third Kind: The Making of Steven Spielberg's Classic Film by Ray Morton (Applause, 2007) on Spielberg's first full-length feature, Firelight.

Our hero

Toronto DIY Filmmakers (Summer 2014)

There's a Canadian Open Vault screening of The Strip and Drying up the Streets on Sunday, July 6^th at 6:15PM at the TIFF Bell Lightbox in conjunction with the launch of the World Film Locations book on Toronto (Intellect Books) and some of its contributors, including the programmer Steve Gravestock (whose spotlights in the book are one of its many highlights), will be there for a signing.  The book is great for locals or tourist that want to better know Toronto through its cinema as it includes some of the city’s canonized films and where they are on a map with stills and contemporary pictures. It’s surprising to discover how many American films were actually filmed in these streets due to the city’s generous tax credits. Like who knew Fever Pitch or Good Will Hunting were shot in Toronto?

On the subject of the actualities of Toronto filmmaking it's worth bringing up some of its more interesting young directors. Still early on in their careers they can really benefit from extra media attention. I’ve labeled this small group the Toronto DIY filmmakers as they are representative of a new model of resourceful economic filmmaking and are telling very specific Toronto stories in formally interesting ways. (A New Toronto Formalism, perhaps?) These directors include Kazik Radwanski, Calvin Thomas and Yonah and Lev Lewis, Simon Ennis, Igor Drljaca, Matt Johnson, Daniel Cockburn, Blake Williams, Cabot McNenly and Steve McKay, Sofia Bohdanowicz and Joanna Durkalec, Pavan Moondi, and Meelad Moaphi. It’s not that there’s one thing connecting this diverse group of filmmakers. They aren’t homogenous or even a “movement.” In Krivina a refugee from the Bosnian war living in Toronto goes back to his home country to find his lost brother, and Poopsie Dries Out is a Larry David-like comedy about a recovering alcoholic. Every Monday has a young Iranian-Canadian boy trying to please both his mother and grandfather, and Everyday is Like Sunday is a typical romantic comedy about awkward twentysomething year olds. The diversity is huge but what is shared is a life-affirming ethos. The title of one of these first full-length features Simon Ennis’ You Might as Well Live perfectly captures this live your life to the fullest attitude. In Tower Derek takes a bath in ice, and in The Oxbow Cure a young women goes to a winter cottage to confront her illness. These directors are young and a lot of them have only started making films after recently graduating from production programs at either Ryerson, York or U of T in the last ten years. Their films capture something youthful, raw and poetic about the city. The filmmakers are cinephiles too and they read Cinema Scope (some of them have even been featured or write for them) and regularly attend the Cinematheque or the MDFF screenings, which are great events for the discovery of unique American independent films. They are featured on interviews at The Seventh Art and the movement’s figurehead film-critic Adam Nayman recently shouted them out on The Cinephiliacs. Some of their debt to film history includes: Radwanski and Antoine Bourges (also from MDFF) speak of an Allan King influence; the film by Nadia Litz, who acted in several prominent Canadian films (Monkey Warfare, You Are Here), Hotel Congress owes a lot to Bruce McDonald’s Highway 61; Simon Ennis is part of the Ron Mann school; Calvin Thomas and Yonah Lewis and Matt Johnson have all acknowledged a Steven Spielberg affinity; and Blake Williams and Daniel Cockburn are very much part of an experimental cinema tradition.

The works of these Toronto DIY filmmakers are more like artisanal products than the typical independent film: they are carefully conceptualized, directed with care, and finely edited. Many of these directors have new projects in the works and which would greatly benefit from and enhance any film festival or special film screening series. Just watch the difficulty Matt has to get a show at The Rivoli in Nirvana The Band as an equivalent of what it’s like being a young filmmaker. Hotel Congress was made as part of the 1K Wave which means that it only cost one-thousand dollars to make and it's also set in Tucson! And directors like Sofia Bohdanowicz, Sofia Rosenkranz, Fantavious Fritz, Meelad Moaphi, Michal Labik, Erik Anderson and Nicole Dorsey have to make a name for themselves in short-films before they can get the attention they deserve to be able to move up to the longer form. These are resourceful and poignant films.

Cinema is an expensive medium and its distribution is now harder to navigate than ever. These Toronto DIY Filmmakers are doing something important: they are the voice of our generation. 

***

Toronto DIY Cinema

·   The MDF Trilogy: Assault, Princess Margaret Blvd, Out In That Deep Blue Sea (Kazik Radwanski, 2009)

·      You Might as Well Live (Simon Ennis, 2009)

·      Nirvana The Band (Matt Johnson, 2009)

·      You Are Here (Daniel Cockburn, 2010)

·      Amy George (Calvin Thomas and Yonah Lewis, 2011)

·      Coorow-Latham Road (Blake Williams, 2011)

·      Tower (Kazik Radwanski, 2012)

·      Krivina (Igor Drljaca, 2012)

·      Poopsie Dries Out (Cabot McNenly and Steve McKay, 2012)

·      Dundas Street (Sofia Bohdanowicz and Joanna Durkalec, 2012

·      The Oxbow Cure (Calvin Thomas and Yonah and Lev Lewis, 2013)

·      The Dirties (Matt Johnson, 2013)

·      Everyday is Like Sunday (Pavan Moondi, 2013)
·      Hotel Congress (Nadia Litz, 2014)

·      Every Monday (Meelad Moaphi, 2014)

Neknomination by Erik Anderson