The fact that Bradley Beesley’s Sweethearts of the Prison Rodeo is something of a festival darling here in Oklahoma City is not a surprise by any measure. It is a rock solid documentary not only with local interest, but it is rousing people to bring about change, sort of.

The film follows female inmates at the Eddie Warrior Correctional Center in Taft, Oklahoma as they prepare for the second prison rodeo that women have been invited to. The event is a state tradition first instituted in 1940 and has attracted large crowds over the years, but only to watch the men. Mr. Beesley’s film has a lot of potential for volatility. After all, it is the story of hardened criminals being thrown in front of riled up cattle for the enjoyment of the masses. What transpires throughout the runtime of the piece is so counfounding, so disturbing, and so beautiful that one can’t help but be moved by this odd and untold story.

You need some backstory, which the film provides, to understand what makes the film so dog gone wonderful. Oklahoma has more women incarcerated per capita than any other state in the U.S. Approximately 80% of them are mothers and the majority of them are in there for methamphetamine charges. Here in Oklahoma, meth is widely available and probably the biggest social problem Okies have to deal with. When the drug stastistic comes out on screen, the crowd I was with didn’t budge, wasn’t surprised. It is a fact of life out here.

So we get to know some of these women who join the rodeo in an effort to get outside of the gray wals they call home; to be a part of a team and find the personal streghth they need to make it in the world once their sentence ends. It is a moving tale, but Mr. Beesley doesn’t spoon feed us anything. As an audience, we are forced to make certain choices about the characters and the film as a whole which speak volumes about our own personal values. Is it right to watch men and women be gored by animals, or is it alright for the animals? Are we okay to believe that murderers should be given a pulpit in cinema? Can we look the victims’ families in the eyes and say “I think Danny Liles deserves a second chance because I saw a movie about him?” Should we be given the chance?

These questions and more are not present in the world of Sweethearts of the Prison Rodeo, and yet they are inescapable. This is why it is such a successful film. At points, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room watching this movie, and this is among a crowd who has the power to change the bleak state of things in Oklahoma. The social problems in the state (as in any state, don’t get me wrong) could fill a stack of papers a mile high, and female incarceration and meth use are only the result of such problems, not the cause. People need to get organized, get educated, and get together, but more than that they need to get motivated to move the earth here. I believe they can do it, and I believe that Mr. Beesley’s film will help push them.

I feel inclined to like Paul Osborne’s Official Rejection, but not because it is a good film. As a film critic, I am drawn to any movie whose premise is that we (filmmakers, critics, distributors, audience members, etc.) are all complicit in a broken system. The film, which follows a number of filmmakers around the festival circuit during the course of a year, is seemingly propagandizing the concept that big name festivals are a scourge on independent filmmaking. They take your hopes and dreams and money and make you feel like shit when they reject you without cause or justifiation.

So yes, I liked it, because its heart. Mr. Osborne and his dedicated team traverse the North American festival wasteland in search of fame and fortune, but moreso recognition of any sort. A key player here is director Scott Storm, whose film,  Ten ‘Til Noon, is the main focus of the festival hopping. (Paul Osborne also wrote that film) Broken up into segments which parallel the process of distributing a film via the festival pipe, Official Rejection is tight, funny and generally easy on the eyes. The film is mostly successful as an educational tool for young filmmakers. It demystifies many of the paradigms that they may think they understand, particularly the idea that a screening at a festival is the first step to getting noticed, getting riches, getting famous, etc.

Also, the filmmakers call attention to the importance of the camaraderie that has become the lifeblood of many festivals. When you throw a bunch of creatives into the same volatile foxhole, you are bound to hit on something exciting, something electric. New relationships are forged, new perspectives are discovered, and people come together in ways that they may never have done under other circumstances.

Which brings us to the film’s greatest weakness: while trying to deconstruct the horrors of the North American film festivals, Mr. Osborne and friends become smitten with them. Their hatred of the majors brings them even closer to the minor festivals, though I should say that Chicago’s IndieFest gets the rawest deal of any of them in the film. I could amend that to say that feature director Blayne Weaver gets the rawest deal, but you’ll have to see the film to understand that reference. Nevertheless, no matter how much the filmmakers tell us that the festival system is broken, they keep returning to it as the same solution.

In my opinion (and you asked for it, that’s why you’re here), there must be a better way to get your films out there, to reach an audience, than the same old ways that we have relied on for decades. There is also no historical frame of reference in this movie. It should be noted that as long as there has been art, there have been critics; as long as there have been fests, there have been anti-fests. This is not a new phenomenon, just one that has been amplified by the prevalence of the equipment required to make a film. It is so funny that the same people who wish to democratize cinema (filmmakers) will end up getting burned by the inundation of new work being created faster, quicker, and cheaper every single day. We want everyone to make a movie, just not while we’re trying to sell ours.

All that ranting and raving aside, Official Rejection is a solid film that all film enthusiasts should see. If you are not in the mood for a discussion on the current state of cinema distribution, there is plenty for you to love here. And if you are on the inside and you absolutely hate this film, well, at least Paul Osborne has opened up the conversation.

From here on out, when I hear the term “local film”, I will think of King Hollis’s Pearl, a sweeping biopic that follows the aviation career of Pearl Scott Carter, the youngest licensed pilot in U.S. History. The film was financed in large part by the Chickasaw Nation and featured a crew that was around 60% Oklahoman, which is fitting for a local hero. Last night, when the film showed here in Oklahoma City at the deadCENTER Film Festival, the house was packed with at least fifty people stranded outside, unable to secure tickets for the show. Those who did make it inside were roused to standing ovation as the credits began to roll. So what is this movie that has such an allure here?

The story is very basic. Pearl is a daredevil who drives her blind father around at the age of 11. When an unexpected visitor, pilot Wiley Post, lands his new plane in Pearl’s backyard, she is given the chance of a lifetime to go up in the air with him. Enchanted by this little girl’s tenacity, Wiley suggests she learn to fly. In due time, Pearl’s father buys her a plane and builds her a landing strip. The young prodigy begins flying in airshows and carting businessmen across the state. However, the excitement of flying comes at a price, and she is forced to choose between her love for aviation and need to have a family, a life.

The truth is that there are many weak parts in the story. In general, the film runs too long, bustling about from plot point to plot point without always drawing a direct relationship between everything that is happening. Shot on video, the movie is quite gorgeous. As a period piece, it can be difficult to get an audience behind the harshness of the video image, but in time this falls away, mostly due to the wonderful performances in the film. Elijah DeJesus is great as Pearl. It is difficult to buy her aging over the years, which is accomplished by giving her longer hair, but her stage presence more than makes up for it. Also of note is Andrew Sensenig who plays Pearl’s father, George Sr. Playing a blind man can be difficult, there is often an emotional disconnect when someone is focused on not looking at anyone, but Mr. Sensenig steps up to the plate and delivers. He almost reminds me of Tom Hanks, but only almost. There are a number of great performances to see, but we must move the review along. Read on…

What can I say about Triangle of Death by Folleh Tamba that won’t just come out mean and disaffected? It is a misguided documentary with no clear vision behind where it takes the viewer, which is unfortunate because there is an incredible amount of interesting material to work with here. Namely, the film features on-the-ground footage in Iraq, which is fascinating to watch. Unfortunately, it is all thrown into a mish mosh of interviews from a predetermined list of lame questions.

Mr. Tamba is a marine who shot the film alongside the other members of the Echo Company 3^rd platoon of the 2^nd battalion 24^th Marines. His efforts are admirable , and as I said, the footage he got over there is amazing. Unfortunately, the film follows no clear narrative; no character relationships are built between the audience and the men being interviewed. Triangle of Death has one very specific goal, which is to glorify the work of the USMC.

Mr. Tamba, if you are out there listening, you have access to the most interesting story in America right now, so please give us something more interesting to watch. Make us really think, don’t just tell us what you think. The film is littered with facts when all we needed was a single emotional investment in any one of the Marines featured in the film. Also, you pull the film in so many directions (anti-journalism, anti-anti-war, soldier stories, gory non-sequiturs, etc.) that we are never given the time to focus on one interesting facet of the abstraction that is war. It’s a shame, again, because there is so much to work with.

On a rainy Friday afternoon, I managed to spend some time with Israeli filmmaker Nati Baratz. We met at Manhattan’s Film Forum, where his film, Unmistaken Child, began it’s U.S. theatrical tour last Wednesday and will be playing there through Tuesday, June 16^th. Clutching an umbrella that flopped in and out which he offered me as a canopy repeatedly, he and I chatted about his career, his film, and the current state of documentary cinema.

The film is his first theatrical venture. A graduate of Tel Aviv University’s film program, Mr. Baratz made two documentaries for television, but as he tells it, he was a hired gun on those projects, taking them on in an effort to keep his chops up. Unmistaken Child follows the buddhist monk Tenzin Zopa on his search for the reincarnation of his late master, Geshe Lama Konchong. For more specifics, you can read the candler blog’s review, but you would do better to just go see the film.

We began to discuss the positive critical reception of his film, though Mr. Baratz was quick to point out that not all viewers are pleased with his work. ” Some people want me to give answers, to give explanations, like more conventional documetaries. This is fair enough, but it’s not the film I made.“He’s right. Unmistaken Child features only sparse interviews with the main subject, Mr. Zopa, and a handful of overlayed text, giving the viewer the bare minimum of literal context. “People want me to criticize things, to go deeper. Most don’t even realize how much information there actually is in the piece, because I made this for Westerners, not Buddhists.” Read on…

The story of boys getting into raunchy trouble at a friend’s Las Vegas bachelor party is about as old as sin city itself, but never has it been portrayed so haphazardly as in Todd Phillips’s The Hangover. The film aims to offend, gross-out, and perpetuate the myth of alcohol-induced male camaraderie. With strippers, a tiger, Mike Tyson, stereotypical Chinese gangsters and tons of cash to throw around, it seems the only thing Mr. Phillips forgot in this movie was a steady stream of laughs.

After a bang up night that no one can remember, Phil, Stu and Alan wake up sprawled about their Caesar’s suite, a baby in the closet, a tiger in the bathroom and a chicken wandering aimlessly around the place. Doug, the milquetoast groom played by Justin Bartha in whose honor the trio got so royally smashed, has gone missing. The plot of last evening unfurls piecemeal, with the three friends wandering the strip and the desert back and forth in search of their lost buddy. Read on…

With the mountains of Tibet as a setting, a group as elusive as the Buddhist monks who occupy that land as a subject, and a conceivably endless search for a reincarnated master as a mission, director Nati Baratz is given every opportunity to exploit this Eastern culture in his breakout documentary, Unmistaken Child. Thankfully, his sensibility is much more refined than that. Instead, Mr. Baratz and his team have crafted a thought-provoking, emotional journey of the highest regard.

Following the death of Geshe Lama Konchong in 2001, the master’s disciple for twenty-one years, Tenzin Zopa,  is charged with searching for the Lama’s reincarnation. Having lived in the service of Lama Konchong for twenty-one years, he is selected because it is believed that someone so close to the Lama will be able to recognize him even in the body of a child. This is a story of emotional redemption and religious discovery, but it is also a detective story. Tenzin has very few clues to go on, but that does not weaken his resolve as he heads to the Tsum Valley of Tibet to seek out his master in a new form. Read on…

The folks at Pixar are an eclectic group. Over the years they have moved on from their roles as technological pioneers to animation revolutionaries of sorts, trying to boldly bring the form back into maturity after it has long been relegated to the stuff of Saturday morning television. It is no surprise then that Up does everything in its power to subvert our preconceived notions of the animated film. The main character is neither young nor cuddly, the themes are complex and layered, and death is a very real possibility in the world of the film. Still, this is a Disney film so it hits most of the marketable requirements.

Up is the story of Carl Fredrickson, and elderly widower who decides to float his house to South America, fulfilling a wish he and his late wife have shared since childhood. After takeoff, a young boy scout named Russell is discovered as a stowaway and becomes Carl’s unwanted sidekick. The team makes it to their destination, running into some new friends: Kevin, a giant bird with a knack for trickery, and Doug, a cheerful dog equipped with a collar that allows him to speak. These new visitors set up a mad-cap adventure for the two city-dwellers, and we are invited along for the ride. Read on…