Capone's Art-House Round-Up with LAMBERT & STAMP, IRIS, I AM BIG BIRD, and THE FILM CRITIC!!!

Hey, folks. Capone in Chicago here, with a few films that are making their way into art houses or coming out in limited release around America this week (maybe even taking up one whole screen at a multiplex near you). Do your part to support these films, or at least the good ones…


LAMBERT AND STAMP
This year is shaping up to be another great year for documentaries, particularly if you're a fan of docs about the arts and individual creative types (I review three of them just this week). LAMBERT AND STAMP has its origins in a particularly unusual place. Would-be filmmakers Chris Stamp (brother of actor Terence) and Kit Lambert were keen to find an unknown band to place at the center of an experimental film circa the early 1960s. The pair found a group called High Numbers, and they were so impressed with their music that they decided to manage and mentor the band that eventually changed its name to The Who.

First-time feature director James D. Cooper has taken that early footage (and a great deal of other archival film) and made this film that tracks the choices and decision the management team made to make The Who one of the world's biggest and most enduring bands. What immediately becomes clear is that Stamp and Lambert were cut from quite different cloth. One was more buttoned down, while the other seemed more attuned to the needs of the band and all that came with being rock stars. But together, they made the perfect managing duo, always leaving the band room to expand and try new things, including seeing songwriter Pete Townshend's need to move beyond conventional rock music, a desire that led to the rock opera "Tommy." Both Townshend and singer Roger Daltrey are extensively interviewed for the film, and paint a fairly clear portrait of how their management allowed them to grow artistically.

As much as LAMBERT AND STAMP is a fascinating look at The Who's early successes (something I think even non-fans will find amusing) as well as a spotlight on the rollicking London music and fashion scenes of the 1960s, where the film ultimately triumphs is in its look at this unlikeliest of friendships, one of whom was gay, while the other rarely liked a day where he didn't have a lady on his arm. With Lambert having died in 1981, his voice is missing from the film, but the more recently passed Stamp (he died in 2012) is very much a part of this film, spinning quality stories that are both hilarious and quite telling about both his management style and The Who's tastes and musical leanings.

Things started to go sour when the band and management attempted to make TOMMY into a film (the original version didn't happen), which the amateur filmmakers assumed they would direct after solving some of the story issues of the album turning into a cinema experience. The conflicts within the organization are as fascinating as the years when things were moving along smoothly. Director Cooper jumps around chronologically in his telling of The Who's legend, but the portrait painted of Keith Moon as a master antagonizer, especially when it came to Daltrey, are pure gold as rock lore goes. Lambert and Stamp clocks in at just under two hours, but it breezes by with a kind of loopy glee and flying-by-the-seat-of-their-pants energy of two guys making it up as they went along, and usually getting it right. As a slice of rock history, the film works; but as an examination of a creative friendship, it excels.


IRIS
On the surface, the latest (though not last) documentary from master filmmaker Albert Maysles (SALESMAN, GIMME SHELTER, GREY GARDENS), who died in March at age 88, is about 93-year-old fashion icon and tastemaker Iris Apfel, whose ability to combine clothes and accessories from vastly different origins into a unifying look is actually quite fun to observe. But in light of Maysles' recent passing and his voice and face frequently featured in the film, it's equally about people who have made a long and fruitful career in their dream job. IRIS is a non-standard profile about an eccentric figure with a low opinion of her looks but a high opinion of her style. At one point in the film, she says, "If you're lucky enough to do something you love, everything else follows." If Maysles had said it, it would have made just as much sense.

Like many of the fashion-centered docs in recent years, IRIS doesn't require a knowledge or appreciation of style to enjoy. Iris' outfits for herself may seem outlandish at first, but when she explains her process and illustrates how she puts pieces together, it somehow makes sense, and your opinion of the ensemble will likely improve. It should be made clear that Apfel is not a clothing designer; she's more akin to a stylist, often using herself as the model. A great deal of the film's strength comes from the relationship and frequent reactions of her long-time husband Carl, who is also an occasional male model for her fashion combinations. There's a love story at the heart of her life story and this movie that is adorable and inspirational.

As one might expect, IRIS touches on its subject's childhood in Queens during the Great Depression, her relationship with her parents, and her early years experimenting with clothing and colors. And the tour of her lavishly decorated, funhouse of a home is reason enough to pay admission. But it's her occasional interactions with the director that make the film stand out in my mind. I don't get the impression to two are age-old friends, but it's clear they both admire and respect each other as artists, and the affection clearly runs deep. The movie is an accidental, yet perfectly fitting, tribute to Maysles (whose final film, In TRANSIT, has just started making the festival rounds), and it only adds another reason to seek out this skillfully crafted work about a different kind of creator.


I AM BIG BIRD: THE CAROLL SPINNEY STORY
Far from a glossy surface treatment of the man behind one of the most recognizable characters in children's entertainment and pop culture, I AM BIG BIRD dives deep into the sometimes-troubled life story of Caroll Spinney, who had given movement and voice to Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch since they were introduced on "Sesame Street" in 1969. The film tracks Spinney's early years as a puppeteering enthusiast through a rough childhood with an abusive father to his days with the "Bozo's Circus" show out of Boston and his eventual fateful meeting with Jim Henson, who had a new idea for educating and entertaining children with the Children's Television Workshop.

I AM BIG BIRD isn't afraid to get deep (Spinney talks openly about times in his life when he had suicidal thoughts) and there may even be a four-letter word thrown in here and there—so by all means, bring the kids—but as an honest and revealing documentary, it's a winner thanks to smart storytelling from directors Dave La Mattina and Chad N. Walker. Fortunately, Spinney and his family chronicled everything with home movies and video cameras, so archival footage is amply available to cover most of the major events in his and Big Bird's life, including his monumental trip to China and various "Sesame Street" episodes that dealt with slightly tougher issues, including the death of a beloved cast member. And good luck trying not to cry your eyes out when Big Bird sings "It's Not Easy Being Green" at Henson's 1990 memorial.

The film makes some interesting observations about Spinney's role in the Muppet world, especially noting that both of his characters were ones that were puppets operated by one person, unlike many of the other characters who required two people to work. According to the movie, this style of worked suited Spinney's quiet, loner personality, but it also kept him from bonding with Henson the way other Muppeteers (like Franz Oz) did over the years. I AM BIG BIRD is as much a fascinating personality profile as it is a historical document about Spinney, and the way the filmmakers braid the two sides to his story is sublime.

What's also of particular note is how many interview subjects note that there is not much of a dividing line between Big Bird and Spinney in terms of childlike wonder and kindness, which makes the creation and purpose of Oscar the Grouch in Spinney's life so curious. As a being of pure, playful negativity, Oscar lets Spinney purge himself of bad feelings just enough to keep him energized to play Big Bird. We should all have such outlets for our true personalities to come out and play.

I AM BIG BIRD is a heartwarming—sometimes heartbreaking—story of one of the last of the old guard in children's entertainment. Despite a brief popularity spike by Elmo in recent years, Big Bird remains the face of "Sesame Street," the eternal child in all of us who guided us through learning and just generally being better people. It gives us a sense that Spinney is both close to a time when physical limitation will force him to step out of the Big Bird costume and hand it to his carefully chosen successor, but he still seems to get a charge and sense of pure joy strapping on the legs and easing into the eight-foot-tall suit. When he finally does decide to take off the suit for the last time, this film makes it clear that the world will be a little less perfect as a result.


THE FILM CRITIC
With a small amount of experience as a film critic, I've noticed that when they're portrayed on film or television, there's certainly a stereotype. And the portrait of Victor Tellez (Rafael Spregelburd), a veteran Buenos Aires critic who has become the hopeless cynic of his small group of critic pals, isn't much of an improvement on this age-old type. He's slightly frumpy, with an apartment full of film-related books; he wears a professorial corduroy jacket, sports a greying beard and glasses. Naturally, he lives alone but has a broken relationship with a woman who might qualify as his part-time girlfriend.

So it's no surprise that when Sofia (the lovely Dolores Fonzi) enters his world, his life of going from screening to screening searching for a version of filmic perfection that he will never find, he suddenly opens himself up to the idea that he could live a happier, more well-rounded life. What's most amusing about THE FILM CRITIC (or EL CRITICO), from first-time director Hernan Gerschuny, is how much Victor resists his life turning into a romantic comedy. Sofia is like a raven-haired Meg Ryan, and Victor responds to her almost in spite of himself. She's unpredictable, spontaneous and full of life—all of the things Victor is not. He hears swelling music when they kiss, and he actually contemplates the very real possibility of writing a romantic comedy screenplay for his brother-in-law. Even worse, he starts to allow sappy romance movies to get to him during screenings, something his fellow critics openly mock him for.

A Jury Award-Best Feature winner at the 2013 Sao Paulo International Film Festival, THE FILM CRITIC is a minor work that finds moments to soar when it finds itself caving to the tropes of Hollywood comedies, only to be ripped back from the brink by Victor's world-weary doubts that any of those clichés are possible. Fonzi is the real discovery here; I don't believe I've ever seen her in any Argentine films I've seen over the years, but I'll certainly seek her out. Sofia embodies the mysterious, secretive manic pixie dream girl type, who is very aware that Victor will respond to such a woman in a very particular, favorable way. The film may get a bit too meta for some on endure, but I thought its dissection of the romantic comedy genre was right on the money.

-- Steve Prokopy
"Capone"
capone@aintitcool.com
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