THE VIRGIN SUICIDES EDITION
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Enchanted By The Details BY REBECCA MARTIN
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range jumpsuits with chainsaws. A dead oak tree on the front lawn. Midwest suburban house. Four teenage girls in white nightgowns and yellow hair race out of the front door of their middle-class home. The girls push away the men with chainsaws and circle around the tree with their arms linked together, like angels protecting the darkness and sadness of their short lives.
There are two important facets to recognize and appreciate in a Sofia Coppola film: the story and the atmosphere. The focus of the Cinema Femme inaugural issue is on Sofia Coppola’s “The Virgin Suicides” (1999), based on the book with the same name by Jeffrey Eugenides. As the founder of this magazine, I chose Sofia’s first feature film for the first issue because I wanted to set the tone as personal. “The Virgin Suicides,” specifically the work of this director, is special to me. Watching this movie, along with “Lost in Translation” and all of Sofia’s other directed films, has inspired me to look at film differently and more deeply. I’ve always loved a good story, but Sofia’s films have taught me that the medium speaks more when there is a captivating atmosphere—full of possibility, beauty, and poetry. And Sofia’s atmosphere is a powerhouse because of the details. Sofia’s film adaption of “The Virgin Suicides” centers around the lives of the Lisbon sisters, five teenage girls who all commit suicide within a twelve-month period. The sisters are Therese (17), Mary (16), Bonnie (15), Lux (14), and Cecilia (13). The story is narrated by Sofia’s cousin Giovanni Ribisi. His narration is the adult recollection of the boys that grew up in same neighborhood as these girls. To illustrate the power of the details in this story, I’d like to analyze the opening of the film. On first viewing, one can easily overlook all the intimate details. Here’s what we can initially grasp—the opening shot of the Lisbon sister Lux, played by a young Kirsten Dunst, standing in the neighborhood street sucking on a popsicle looking around absentminded. Then the camera takes quick shots around the neighborhood, then a shot of the Lisbon sisters’ bedroom windowsill, to a shot of Cecilia, played by Hanna Hall, laying in a bathtub in her own blood. Then we hear the first line of the film, by Ribisi: “Cecilia was the first to go.” All of that occurred in only the first minute of the film, so it’s easy to miss the details. When you slow the scene down, here are some gems you may have missed... 8
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Shot one: Lux wearing a pink top, bordered in red lining. She is sucking on the last bit of the red-colored popsicle, then sucks up the rest, chews what’s left in her mouth, and holds the popsicle stick absentmindedly with her arm crossed over. We hear the sound of summer, cicadas, with the distant music of Air (who composed the music for the film). The sun is shining through the trees and the shadows reflect. Shot two: Distant side shot of a man in a red sweater and slacks watering his bushes in his front lawn bordered by a tree in the right of the frame. Shot three: Distant shot behind two women walking on a sidewalk together in longer ‘70s-style dresses. At this point, we get the impression we’re in an upper middle class Midwest neighborhood in the 1970s. One of the women is walking a dog that looks like a Golden Retriever. The sun shines through the trees, with speckles of shadows on the street accompanied by the melancholy Air song becoming louder and in tune with the summer sounds. Shot four: Distant shot of two men in orange jumpsuits and hard hats hammering a notice on a large tree. One of the men has a blonde ponytail. Close up on the notice, we see “City of Gross Point Parks Department: Notice for Removal.” Shot five: Distant shot of boy, maybe seven or eight, throwing a basketball at a hoop in a front driveway, next to his father cooking on a red grill. While we look at the boy and his father, we start to hear sirens. Shot six: Branches and leaves of a tree with the sun shining through. Shot seven: Summer sounds stop. We are now looking at a close-up of a windowsill: we see a Japanese fan, makeup brushes, lipsticks, mascara, lip gloss, a rosary hanging from a perfume bottle, stickers of butterflies, stars, moons, mirrored by a ‘70s floral curtain. During this shot, we hear only the drips of water and sirens, then the opening line: “Cecilia was the first to go.” Shot eight: Cecilia, the youngest Lisbon sister, laying in a bathtub full of blood with her eyes open and glazed, fully clothed. The sirens get louder. I don’t know about you, but I get chills by the intimacy of the details. Her films vary in story, but no matter what the story is about—a seventeenth-century queen, spoiled teenagers in Hollywood, a middle-aged celebrity traveling in Tokyo—I know that I’m going to be enchanted by the artistry of the cinematic details that bring me deeper. ■
A Conversation Between Cinema Femme Founder Rebecca Martin and Film Critic Pamela Powell REBECCA MARTIN: I met film critic Pamela Powell through Twitter. She had taken a video of actress Gugu Mbatha-Raw’s Q&A after the screening of her film “Fast Color” (directed by Julia Hart) at the Chicago Critics Film Festival. Her praise for Gugu drew me to her as a critic. I retweeted her post, and the rest is history. Months later, I’m so happy to get the opportunity to interview her and share her story. See highlights of our conversation below.
BEING A FEMALE FILM CRITIC MARTIN: I’m curious what your thoughts are in terms of being a female critic. POWELL: It’s been an experience! I’m frequently a minority when it comes to representing my gender in a screening room. Sometimes I’m the only female. Sometimes there’s one or two others out of the group. It’s a really difficult question and I’ve had several very positive experiences. I love the fact that Chuck Koplinski is my film critic partner. He asked me to be a part of his show (“Reel Talk with Chuck and Pam”). He didn’t have to do that, but he knew that a woman’s voice is just as important to have as a male’s voice. He’s the one who approached me to do the show on WCIA. And I give him a lot of credit for recognizing the fact that a woman’s voice and opinion is needed in film crit-
icism. He didn’t have to do that. He graciously has opened the doors for me. I wouldn’t have had half the opportunities that I have now if it wasn’t for his generosity.
“WHAT THEY HAD” MARTIN: It seems that you are drawn to independent films, in terms of films you’ve seen recently. Of the films you’ve seen over the years, which ones deeply connected with you? POWELL: I just got back from the Toronto International Film Festival. There’s a movie that I believe premiered at Sundance Film Festival this year called “What They Had,” directed by Elizabeth Chomko. I missed it at Sundance and I finally got a chance to see it at Toronto. If you want to know my story with my mother, my father, and my brother, I think Elizabeth Chomko must have had some psychic devices, because it’s my story, and my life. It shows how
I dealt with my mother going through Alzheimer’s disease, and my father and brother dealing with her condition, and me traveling back and forth from Chicago to New York. It was probably, and I’m going to get choked up thinking about this, one of the most emotional and personal films I’ve ever seen that I’ve been able to connect with. That’s just an example of one film that really hit home with me, and I’m sure there are plenty of other people out there that this story is going to hit home with as well.
THE FUTURE IS FEMALE POWELL: I’d like to add that there is a new site that’s going to be launched in the next few weeks called CherryPicks. Do you know anything about it? MARTIN: No, but that’s a great name. POWELL: It is. It is an answer to Rotten Tomatoes. It is a site for female critics. MARTIN: Oh my god, how did I not know about this. That’s great! POWELL: They realize that women’s stories are out there and some of the films that capture these stories are not being rated very highly because they are rated primarily by men. For example, “The Zookeeper’s Wife,” which I absolutely loved. Female director (Niki Caro), based on a book written by a woman (Diane Ackerman), and that film got totally panned. You look at the women that critiqued it and it got high marks, but there’s not enough of us to put the foot on the scale to make a
difference. Thankfully Rotten Tomatoes is recognizing this and is trying to make some changes. I’m happy that they have accepted me as a Rotten Tomatoes critic. And it’s the only time I like to have the scale go up! CherryPicks is going to be a site that’s for female criticism. Hopefully in the future we’ll see movies like “The Zookeeper’s Wife” show a bowl full of cherries by CherryPicks. I’m really excited to be having this site come out for women. Go online to learn more (thecherrypicks.com). MARTIN: Thank you Pamela for taking the time to do this interview. I’m so happy to be able to voice your words on our pages. POWELL: Thank you, it’s a real honor. ■
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A Conversation Between Cinema Femme Founder Rebecca Martin and Filmmaker Laura Moss REBECCA MARTIN: I had the pleasure of interviewing Laura Moss, NYC-based filmmaker. I met Laura last year at the Chicago Critics Film Festival, where I saw her short film “Fry Day.” I was immediately drawn to her as a female filmmaker and her unique filmmaking style of beauty in the horror genre. I wanted to interview Laura because of her passion for film and filmmaking. Below are highlights from our conversation.
LIFE EXPERIENCE LAURA MOSS: I went to NYU [as an undergraduate]. I was a sophomore when 9/11 happened. I studied directing for theater and design and I knew I was interested in the arts. Then September 11th happened and we were evacuated. I went through a period where I was like, “This is not important. I need to do something that’s important, or something that’s immediate and helpful to people.” So that informed the rest of college for me. I ended up finishing school in Egypt, with a Middle Eastern Studies concentration. Then I ended up working as an EMT with the Red Crescent, which is the Muslim Red Cross in the West Bank. It was a period when—I mean, I love the arts and it’s what I’m best at, but when they evacuated us, they were like, “If you have medical treatment, stay. If you don’t, you have to leave. You’re not going to be helpful.” I think that stuck with me. I need literal medical
training, because I don’t ever want to be in this situation again. Then I came back, and I just basically needed a job, so I got a job as a PA. ... And on the side, I was playing around with Brendan O’Brien, who was my collaborator. Actually at the time we were married. We are no longer married, but we are cowriters and we do every project together. He and I were developing this silly zombie documentary (“Rising Up”), but neither of us knew what we were doing, so we shot it over like three hundred weekends, it felt like. We submitted it to festivals and despite it being way too long—it was like twenty-five minutes—it got into a fair number of horror film festivals and got into the Boston International Film Festival and won an award. So we were like, wow, we might be onto something. “Rising Up” was my first film I directed, and it seemed like a synthesis of all the skills I developed in life: my writing, my EMT training—which is very much about triage, and prioritizing different emergencies—and working with actors at college. It 10
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just felt very right. I was like, oh shit, I might be a director. And I had no idea how to go about doing that. So I made a deal with myself: I was going to apply to only the East Coast film schools because I was married at that time, and I only applied to NYU and Columbia. If I got in, I would be a director, and I was lucky to get into both schools.
FILM SCHOOL MOSS: The great thing about NYU grad film school is that they make you work every position. So in addition to making your own films—you make around seven in the course of the program—you must work in every capacity on everyone else’s movies. I was a bad assistant director, a bad assistant camera, sound mixer, but what I loved about that was it really made me understand and respect every position. And I think it really helps the directing. It really helps because you can confidently speak someone’s language when you’re working with them.
“AFTER BIRTH” MARTIN: So “After Birth” is the film that’s in the works right now? MOSS: It is, Fangoria Films picked it up. We’re currently developing it in hopes that it’ll be shooting in January of next year. MARTIN: That’s great. I will definitely be on the lookout for that one! Can you tell us a little more about “After Birth”? MOSS: It’s not quite a Frankenstein adaptation, but it’s inspired by the Frankenstein story. For me, it’s very much about my own personal fears about childbirth. Basically it’s the story about female “Dr. Frankenstein,” who is very estranged from her body and interested in creating life in her mind.
MARTIN: Oh my! That is really interesting. Can’t wait to see it! MOSS: Me too!
BEING A WOMAN IN FILM MOSS: I feel like there needs to be more diversity in general. There needs to be more representation across the board. I think that’s because people’s perspectives are very valuable. I was asked recently in an interview what would be different if you were a male director. I was sort of like, I’m not a male person, I’m a female person, and so much of my perspective is based on my life experience. My life experience is moving through the world as a woman. So I don’t think of myself as a female director, but essentially I am. MARTIN: Thank you Laura for taking the time to share your experiences. MOSS: Thank you. I’m so excited about this. I think Cinema Femme is really important, and I’m really glad you’re doing it. ■
American
Animals BY STEPHANIE DYKES Stephanie Dykes is the winner of Meetup group Chicago Film Lover Exchange’s essay contest. Members had to write an essay about a 2018 film they enjoyed. Stephanie chose the film “American Animals,” directed by Bart Layton and starring Evan Peters, Barry Keoghan, Blake Jenner, and Ann Dowd.
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he question of who might be trustworthy is a constant point of contention in Bart Layton’s vision in the 2018 film “American Animals.” Can we trust the characters? Can we trust the real people involved in the real situation? Can we even trust ourselves as viewers? Layton creates a world mimicking that of a dream that goes beyond the idea of “zero boundaries” between what is real and what is not. As viewers, the audience points its sympathy and wrath in different directions throughout the interwoven fiction and reality. To go on the journey of “American Animals” is to rarely, if ever, be certain who is “right” and who is “wrong.” The film is based on real-life events. A group of college students at Transylvania University in Lexington, Kentucky, plans a heist to steal extremely valuable books from the library at the university. We see them plan, meet with outside buyers, fantasize about their ideal outcomes, and eventually see what actually occurs and its aftermath. While the majority of the film focuses on the planning of the robbery, when the moment arises for the actual event, the film quickly changes hats to that of a thriller. The experience of watching the anxiety and the expectations of these undeniably human characters crumble the second their big plan is supposed to become reality caused physical reactions in audience members at this year’s Chicago Critics Film Festival. Shifting in seats, hands over mouths and eyes, and any other reaction one might have to observing abnormal heights of anxiety were all present. The experience of seeing the film on a small screen at home may be similar given the meticulous pacing of this film, but a dark room full of strangers certainly adds to this beautiful shared discomfort.
The idea of the unreliable narrator is certainly not new to the world of cinematic storytelling. What “American Animals” does a bit differently, though, is not only do we have the fictionalized versions of the real people involved, but the audience is made privy to interviews with the members of this gang of would-be thieves. The statements from these real men become a sort of commentary on their past actions, as well as a looming presence over their past selves. The characters cannot seem to agree on specific details of even the most basic occurrences and the real men cannot even agree with their fictional selves. Since the film is told from the point of view of the criminals, we as viewers find it only natural to view them as the heroes of the film. Every so often, though, we are reminded these are people actually committing a crime that, while is not necessarily violent in nature, is going to affect the lives of people in potentially horrific ways. When those moments of “oh, these aren’t the good guys in this scenario” occur, actual sounds of quiet horror or sympathy for the other people in this world can be heard throughout the theater. So, again, even the minds of the audience cannot really be trusted to make proper judgments of what’s actually happening. Layton takes us a bit beyond the idea of the antihero and into a slightly different area of simply that heroes or antiheros are not necessary to create a compelling story. The reflection of the experience after watching the film in its entirety may even be more fascinating that the film itself. The two men who were the ringleaders in this crime never seem to have an answer as to why they did it other than just to see if they really could. Sure they had an idea they would make money, but in reality it was more just to see if they could do it and a way to curb boredom. The film offers no explanation beyond this and neither do its participants. There is no apparent moral and there is no resolution. We do not get that moment of relief where everyone is friends again. In the end, it’s a smartly crafted, entertaining film about real people that leaves the audience asking infinite questions. ■
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