THE MOTEL (Palm Pictures Series #2)

Within the contemporary independent film scene the comedy has been reduced to a monotonous formula defined by rigid framing, insecure characters, awkward dialogue, and often, a predilection towards child sexuality. It ostensibly started with Jim (MYSTERY TRIAN) Jarmusch followed closely by his cinematographer/protégée Tom (THE REAL BLONDE) DiCillo and has morphed slightly through the films of Wes Anderson and Todd Solondz. THE MOTEL manages to cover all the bases of said formula (even down to the ubiquitous pastel ad campaign) without adding anything new to the mix. It amounts to little more than a piece of flaccid, unfunny Sundance fodder.

The story hinges on the burgeoning sexuality of Ernest, a shy teen boy living in a motel ran by his distant and strict mother. Ernest is about as uninteresting as a protagonist can be, so bland in fact that you kind of route for his bully (a trashy teenager staying at the motel). The bullying is only one of Ernie’s problems though; he wrote a story his mother won’t read, falls in love with his best friend, and starts hanging out with a promiscuous alcoholic loser staying at the motel. The “alcoholic” character functions as Ernest’s alter-ego prodding him to overcome his shyness and try new things. Even as the story’s resident bad-boy character he somehow manages to be as banal as our pathetic lead. Many of the pitfalls boil down to poor scripting. Take for example the predictability of every major plot point: 1) We know his mother’s eventually going to read the story and be touched by it (gag!). 2) Ernest will screw up his relationship with his best friend due to his new found crush (of course). 3) And he’ll discover that his alcoholic alter ego is nothing more than a big loser that complicates his life (big surprise).

To be fair, some of the writing sucks by design. For instance, Ernest’s dialog rings very true for a lame 13-year-old. Unfortunately, the musings of a lame 13-year-old aren’t all that interesting or fulfilling. All things considered the cast does a serviceable job, they just weren’t given fleshed out characters or decent lines. A great actor can sell a bad line. Alec Baldwin and Denzel Washington excel in this area. Director Michael Kang’s young cast isn’t quite in their league yet, causing us to cringe at the insipid dialogue they’re forced to deliver. The cringe inducing dialogue peaks with the scene in which Ernest and his alcoholic buddy scream up to god that they “just want to be happy!” I just wanted them to stop. The derivative look of the film is handled competently, leaving us to wonder what Kang could accomplish if he did more than just parade out the current indie/comedy tropes.
The one thing the film has going for it is a strong crisp ending consisting of a single tear streaking down Ernest’s chubby face. It tells us everything we need to know. Another positive - at 76 minutes it is mercifully short.

13 TZAMETI (Palm Pictures series #1)

France has become the new home of the gritty, visceral film. It was/is the country of choice for sensational provocateurs Michael Haneke and Gaspar Noé and currently nurtures the most interesting and/or popular contemporary horror films, Kim Chapiron’s SATAN (SHEITAN), Alexandre Aja’s HIGH TENSION (HAUTE TENSION), and Fabrice Du Welz’s THE ORDEAL (CALVAIRE). 13 TZAMETI isn’t a horror film or even very gory, but it’s as austere as any of these films.

A claustrophobic semi-neo-noir, masterfully photographed by Tariel Meliava, the film tells the story of an underground gambling ring that plays an orgiastic version of Russian roulette. Thirteen participants (desperate people in need of cash) form a circle and aim a gun, loaded with a pre-determined amount of bullets, at the head of the player in front of them and after three delayed rounds a winner is determined. Wealthy men wager large sums on the players they think will survive. Sébastien, our down-on-his-luck protagonist, unwittingly became a participant after assuming the identity of a dead man, lured by the rumor of quick cash.

A wonderfully simple premise it’s prone to dynamic interpretations including sports obsession, gambling extremes, and most fascinating of all, as allegory for the American political structure. The exploitation of the poor, in the name of greed, is the most predominant idea explored by the film. Each participant (read: citizen) is associated with at least one coach or sponsor, essentially a representative (read: politician) put in place to keep the participant under control and focused on the job at hand. The moments between rounds are as excruciating as the game itself. The misery in the tiny crowded room that the participants wait in while the wagers are placed is nearly unbearable. You can smell the sticky sweat and taste the muggy air, a credit to the spot on performances and the grainy black and white photography. Many of the participants take this time to inject morphine, provided by the organization (read: government) running the event, to calm their nerves. This, of course, alludes to the belief held by many that the government pumps drugs into the poor sections of cities as a means of oppression.

The participants take all the risk, do all the work, while the fat cats just sit back and rake in the dough from their wagers. After the “winning” participant has risked his life and made unimaginable amounts of money for the representatives and the organization, he is expected to tip (taxes) not only them, but the men who organized the event. I don’t think I’m ruining anything by telling you that Sébastien comes out the victor, but the following sentences may contain information you don’t want to know. After escaping from the organization (he fears they plan on killing him) Sébastien hops a train. On the train he runs into the brother/representative of the man he killed in the final round. Instead of lashing out at the system responsible for his brother’s death, the man turns on the hapless participant. The film concludes with this depressing example of the misdirected anger manifesting itself as violence on the streets of America every day.

Suprisingly, mature for a first time filmmaker, Géla Babluani is certainly a director to keep an eye on. He picked up five festival awards for his efforts here, including one from Sundance and another from Venice (1). Sébastien was played perfectly by his brother George expressing his emotion with very little dialog. 13 TZAMETI will be available from Palm Pictures on February 13th, 2007.

1. This is according to the imdb.