arts + culture: film
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Mark Duplass in Safety Not Guaranteed (left) and Your Sister’s Sister (with Emily Blunt, right). | your sister’s sister photo by tadd sackville-west
Et voilà! Dimitri from Paris steams up Mighty’s ballroom.
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The prestige By Marke B.
With two new movies (and more on the horizon), Mark Duplass is on the cusp of household-name status By Dennis Harvey arts@sfbg.com FILM Actors writing and directing movies in order to get work as actors can be a dicey business. It worked for the likes of Ed Burns and Vin Diesel, at least in terms of their becoming (however precariously) Hollywood stars. But anyone who’s seen a sizable share of independent features at B-list film festivals knows that more often than not, actor-originated projects can lead to excessive displays of vanity, indulgence, and shameless if frequently unconscious imitation of other movies. (Cassavetes, Scorsese, and Tarantino being the most deathlessly recycled models.) It’s not that actors aren’t smart; it’s that as in so many things, a collectivist venture like moviemaking benefits from the checks and balances of each collaborator’s cleareyed perspective on one another’s input. Mark Duplass is now getting roles in mainstream movies and TV — he’s in Kathryn Bigelow’s upcoming Navy SEALs movie, for one — but you can’t say that that was necessarily the plan, or point. You certainly can’t say the so-called “mumblecore” genre he helped invent with sibling Jay (his cowriter and director on five features to date starting with 2005’s The Puffy Chair) is about actorly indulgence, either, much as its specimens might sometimes meander short of structure or meaning. They’ve been outward-looking — out to communities beyond acting school or potential William Morris representation, at least. And Mark Duplass has been good in them, sometimes almost 34 SAN FRANCISCO BAY GUARDIAN
invisibly so. He stole the show in Lawrence Kasdan’s recent misfire Darling Companion by simply acting sanely amidst a starrier ensemble hell-bent on quirky hysteria. His slightly-shlumpy yet subtler (than Seth Rogen/Jason Segal/Jack Black) appeal is more prominent in two movies that happen to be opening this week, neither written or directed by a Duplass. He’s very good in both of them, albeit in unshowy, average-yoink ways no awards body might ever recognize. Your Sister’s Sister is the new movie from Lynn Shelton, who sort of came late to the mumblecore table — her first feature, We Go Way Back (2006), was nothing like it — and who directed Duplass in her shaggily amusing, throwaway Humpday (2009). This latest opens more somberly, at a Seattle wake where his Jack makes his deceased brother’s friends uncomfortable by pointing out that the do-gooder guy they’d loved just the last couple years was a bully and jerk for many years before his reformation. This outburst prompts an offer from friend-slash-mutual-crush Iris (Emily Blunt) that he get his head together for a few days at her family’s empty vacation house on a nearby island. Arriving via ferry and bike, he is disconcerted to find someone already in residence — Iris’ sister Hannah (Rosemarie DeWitt), who’s grieving a loss of her own (she’s split with her girlfriend). Several tequila shots later, two Kinsey-scale opposites meet, which creates complications when Iris turns up the next day. A bit slight in immediate retrospect and contrived in its wrap-up, Shelton’s film is nonetheeditorials
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less insinuating, likable, and a little touching while you’re watching it. That’s largely thanks to the actors’ appeal — especially Duplass, who fills in a blunderingly lucky (and unlucky) character’s many blanks with lived-in understatement. San Francisco-born director Colin Trevorrow’s narrative debut feature Safety Not Guaranteed, written by Derek Connolly, is more striking both overall and in performance. It’s got an improbable setup: not that rural loner Kenneth (Duplass) would place a personal ad for a time travel partner (“Must bring own weapons”), but that a Seattle alt-weekly magazine would pay expenses for a vainglorious staff reporter (Jake Johnson, hilarious) and two interns (Aubrey Plaza, Karan Soni) to stalk him for a fluff feature over the course of several days. The publishing budget allowing that today is true science-fiction. But never mind. Inserting herself “undercover” when a direct approach fails, Plaza’s slightly goth college grad finds she actually likes obsessive, paranoid weirdo Kenneth, and is intrigued by his seemingly insane but dead serious mission. For most of its length Safety falls safely into the category of off-center indie comedics, delivering various loopy and crass behavior with a practiced deadpan, providing just enough character depth to achieve eventual poignancy. Then it takes a major leap — one it would be criminal to spoil, but which turns an admirable little movie into something conceptually surprising, reckless, and rather exhilarating. 2
YOUR SISTER’S SISTER and SAFETY NOT GUARANTEED open Fri/15 in Bay Area theaters.
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SUPER EGO Everybody’s in an uproar. Panties: twisted! Wig: askew! Weave: berated! Kanga: roo’d! The upper lefthand quadrant of the Internet is aflame. Respected undergroundish house DJs are being kicked out of upscale club booths at an alarming rate. In February, Dennis Ferrer was tossed from the tables at Miami’s Mansion for not playing “commercial enough.” Last week, our own beloved Mark Farina got bumped from the Marquee poolside in Las Vegas because the management was “getting complaints from the table service crowd” about too much house. (And, most inexplicably, adorable ambient sage Mixmaster Morris was unplugged at a prestigious Berlin event late last year, for not wanting to spontaneously tag team with the tipsy promoter.) Beyond screaming, “Why the hell would you play these idiotfests to begin with!” (each has their own credible individual explanation), I tend to think this rash of boots is simply symptomatic of dance music’s current bout of mainstreamification. A similar thing happened when oonce-oonce techno took over mainstream-y dance floors in the mid1990s. Suddenly it seemed every DJ disappeared except Paul van Dyk, Paul Oakenfold, Armin van Buuren, and Sasha and Digweed. Creepy. This time around, house lovers, there’s plenty of venues and crowds for everyone, without having to cry about our time slot in the Electric Daisy Cannibal of life. All is full of PLUR. Just don’t fuss with our Farina again, Vegas, or we’ll Mushroom Jazz your ass.
Dimitri from Paris
And now I will spin you a shaggy tale of reverse-douchebagginess. The year? 2000. The place? Winter Music Conference in Miami. The party? Playboy Mansion. All the fixings of a bottle service fake boobs popped collar disaster-fantasy! Of course I went. But then. Someone handed me one of those little shaker eggs that make maraca noises. And then. DJ Dmitri from Paris launched into a 12-minute version of “Love is Always on Your Mind” by Gladys Knight and the Pips. The floor went wild and I went straight (forward) to heaven. It was totally like that moment in the
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gay bar in 1978 when someone hands Sandra Bernhard a tambourine. Free at last! Ever since then I’ve adored this kicky disco Greek Frenchman, and now that he’s launched several re-edit projects, he’s back in the pulsating limelight. Will he drop the epic opera version of Pet Shop Boys’ “Left to My Own Devices”? As a guest at Marques Wyatt’s monthly Deep party, one of the best and most diverse in SF, anything goes. Fri/15, 10pm-3am, $15 advance, $20. Mighty, 119 Utah, SF. www.mighty119. com
The Magician
Have we at least reached the late Steve Miller Band stage of electro-disco? Abracadabra, out pops this mysterious prestidigitator, pulling blissful, keyboardchiming, fog-enshrouded tricks from his fuzzy-wuzzy dream hat. I am assuming ze Magician is French, because he pulls off that excellent French touch trick of pulling your feverishly beating heart out of your chest right when the strobes hit. But in a more contemporary, happy house way. (UPDATE: The Magician is possibly Belgian. Magic!) Fri/15, 9pm, $17 advance. Mezzanine, 444 Jessie, SF. www.mezzaninesf.com
Mayer Hawthorne
Don’t call him a “throwback” — the young soul-funk revivalist prefers to count J. Dilla among his influences, even while he’s nicking inspiration from Holland-DozierHolland. The Stones Throw label favorite’s DJ set should span a spectrum of moodbending, rootsy sounds. Sat/16, 9pm-late, $10–$15. Public Works, 161 Erie, SF. www.publicsf.com
Son’Y Rays
Kind of freaking out about this one. Some of the deepest, most intellectually soulful — and danceable! — tech-house future beats are being made in Oakland right now (and for the past few years) by the Deepblak crew. This showcase will bring together most of the major players at SF’s SOM: Diaba$e and Nasrockswell, Blaktroniks, Aybee and Afrikan Sciences, and Damon Bell. Do not miss this night of exquisite hometown, hand-crafted live machine vibes. Sat/16, 10pm, $10. SOM, 2925 16th St., SF. www.som-bar.com 2
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