Cinematical was just handed this exclusive clip from the film Mongol, which finally arrives in theaters in limited release on June 6 after being nominated for a Best Foreign Language Oscar. Mongol comes from the award-winning Russian filmmaker Sergei Bodrov (Prisoner of the Mountains), and it follows the early years of Genghis Khan -- before he took on that name, through his perilous childhood to the battle that sealed his destiny. Cinematical's Eric D. Snider reviewed the film when it played the Portland Film Festival, and said: "The battle scenes, in particular, are thrilling and visceral without being too nauseating, and Japanese actor Tadanobu Asano's performance as Temudjin has the stoicism and dedication you need for an effective biopic hero." I think it goes without saying that we all love a film with a few good battles in it, and Mongol looks to give us just that ... and then some. Check out the clip above, then the poster, then get your asses to the theater when it arrives on June 6.

I've been fortunate enough to have been able to go to Cannes for the past four years now, and I'm getting ready for my fifth. And, as I often say when explaining film festivals to people who've never been to one, it's not just an adventure; it's a job. Cannes is a "get-away" the same way running from a burning building is "a tour of the grounds"; there are plenty of movies, plenty of work, and the overall emotional tone of the event is a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The heady moments of pure movie magic come fast and furious with the muck-and-money reality of international financing and distribution happening all about you.

Going to Cannes means seeing at least 40, maybe 50 or more movies in 10 days, never mind actually thinking and writing about them; you'd think that that kind of pace would soon turn into a blur, and it does, but it's a glorious one. Here's some of my favorite movie going moments (highly subjective, of course -- I've not included last year's ridiculously strong quartet of Persepolis, No Country for Old Men, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly and 4 Months, 3 Weeks, 2 Days, as they're still so fresh in my mind) from the past four years of the Cannes Film Festival; think of these as the rushed recollections of a film critic who knows exactly how lucky he's been.

Welcome to another nutritious edition of The (Mostly) Indie Film Calendar, a weekly roundup of what's happening beyond the multiplexes in this great land of ours. If you know of something cool going on where you live -- a small film festival, retrospective, midnight movies, etc. -- let me know! You can find me at Eric.Snider (at) Weblogsinc (dot) com.

INDIE THEATRICAL RELEASES

• Frontiere(s) is a French horror flick whose history is almost as torturous as its content. It was supposed to be part of the After Dark series last fall, but its NC-17 rating made that impossible due to the contract that the After Dark people had with the theatrical venues. So now it's basically going straight to DVD -- but first it's being deposited in a handful of theaters today in New York, L.A., Denver, Seattle, Philly, Austin, and maybe a few other places. Cinematical's Scott Weinberg gave it a mixed review at Toronto last year.

• The Fall: Remember The Cell, that freaky Jennifer Lopez movie from 2000? I know I do! (I never forget a movie with a vivisected horse.) The director, Tarsem Singh, is back now with The Fall, a visually stunning fable where a man in a hospital tells a little girl a story, and that story is craaaazy. Opens in New York and L.A. today.

More indie releases and a city-by-city list of cool events after the jump....

While Hong Kong filmmakers have a gift for action, they tend to overdo it in the melodrama department, at least when it comes to watching their films through Western eyes. Perhaps the worst Hong Kong film I've seen to date is Jackie Chan's Heart of Dragon (1985), which features Jackie caring for his developmentally disabled brother (played by goofball Sammo Hung, who co-directed). All the heartstring tugging made me want to claw my eyes out. Or take another look at a masterpiece like John Woo's The Killer and you'll see an operatic hugeness to the emotional scenes -- especially between men -- that an American would never even dream, much less dare. These folks have an extremely high tolerance level for sentimentality; it takes an enormous amount before their sap detectors begin going off.

The same goes for action director and one-man HK film industry Johnny To (also known as "Johnnie To Kei-Fung"). To was a fairly minor director during Hong Kong's exciting late 1980s/early 1990s heyday, when imported films began to tantalize American viewers bored with big explosions and Vietnam rescue flicks. His biggest credit was as co-director on the exceptional supernatural superhero movie The Heroic Trio (1992). But after the 1997 handover to China, when most other filmmakers withdrew or abandoned ship, To flourished and eventually became the country's most successful and exciting filmmaker. His action hits included: The Mission (1999), Running Out of Time (1999), Help!!! (2000), Fulltime Killer (2001), Running Out of Time 2 (2003), Running on Karma (2003), Breaking News (2004), Election (2005), Triad Election (2006) and Exiled (2007), along with some 40 other films.

With only a handful of films to his credit, Sixth Generation Chinese director Jia Zhang-ke has become one of the world's great master filmmakers, and he has the lack of distribution to prove it. Like many other greats from Orson Welles to Hou Hsiao-hsien, he has struggled to get spectators and his movies together at the same place and the same time. His film Still Life won the Golden Lion at the 2006 Venice Film Festival and promptly sat on the shelf. It received a cautious and limited release in New York earlier this year, but since it never turned up on the West Coast, the San Francisco International Film Festival picked it up as an entry in the 51st fest (after failing to secure it for their 50th), and it opens at the end of this week at the Roxie Cinema. It's by far the best film I've seen in this year's fest, and it probably would have been the best of last year too.

It's not a pretty story. Imagine that your daughter is raped and murdered while staying at an Indian resort in Goa. You then have to force authorities to investigate what was originally ruled as a drowning, and then you don't even get to bring back all of your daughter. It sounds too weird to be true, and now the BBC reports that the story is getting made into a Bollywood film, with reports saying that "Prabhakar Shukla has already approached actress Katrina Kaif and will start filming in July."

In February, the 15-year-old Scarlett Keeling was murdered while in Doa. After an initial flub that ruled her death as a drowning, a murder investigation was opened, and two men have been arrested for her death. But the really strange part -- her uterus, kidneys, and stomach were removed and now her mother has to fight to have them returned. What the eff?! "The Indian government told Mrs MacKeown there was no system in place for her request to be carried out. Mr Varma said his client could formally request that the organs be flown back to the UK, but if this could not be done she would have to return to Goa." Umm ... okay.

The film is said to be welcomed by Scarlett's mom, if the facts are portrayed correctly, "... but if there is too much of a deterioration from the facts she will be disturbed by it because the film is what the Indian people will believe." Hopefully it helps her plight. I can't even begin to imagine having to fight to keep all of your daughter intact when she's laid to rest.

Some filmmakers, like Chaplin and Kubrick, determined that they should release a film only every few years, to make it more like an event to be anticipated. Other filmmakers work faster and harder in an effort not to be forgotten, like Spike Lee or Woody Allen. It's difficult to determine which method is more effective, but it seems like if a filmmaker turns in over fifty films of mostly high quality, their work is eventually taken for granted. Everyone loves Hitchcock now, but in 1976 when his final film opened, he must have seemed like a relic compared to Rocky and Taxi Driver. That's how I imagine Claude Chabrol today. Now 77, he releases a movie a year, more or less, and passed the fifty-film marker some time ago. Unlike his French New Wave colleagues, he didn't make a single masterpiece in his youth, and so has nothing to live up to. Rather, he's consistently reliable and skillful, and it's difficult to judge any one of his films up against another. Look through reviews of his most recent films, and for each one you'll find at least one person claiming it's his best film in years.

And so comes A Girl Cut in Two, which recently screened at the 51st San Francisco International Film Festival. I loved it. It's another superbly-made, highly enjoyable Chabrol film, but you probably won't see it on any top ten lists, nor will Chabrol be collecting any awards for it. I think "consistent" is a bad word among film people; we're more easily impressed by change and diversity, or by the newest, latest thing. Actors like John Wayne were routinely overlooked in favor of actors like Marlon Brando, though Brando could never in a million years have pulled off what John Wayne accomplished in The Searchers. Brando could do lots of things, but John Wayne was the best at being John Wayne. That's my standard rant, and that's how I feel about Chabrol. Now, onto the new film:

Cinematical has just gotten this stunning, exclusive poster for Catherine Breillat's new film, The Last Mistress (click on image above to enlarge). I just absolutely adore pictures and posters that combine that grainy look with sharp, contrasting colors, and this one pulls it all off wonderfully. Based on the novel by Jules-Amédée Barbey d'Aurevilly, the film is another sexy and shocking taste of Breillat, director of Fat Girl and Anatomy of Hell, but this time, she goes back to the 19th century. Asia Argento stars as Vellini, a courtesan who has lust-filled and violent forays with Ryno (Fu'ad Aït Aattou) for years. But then he leaves her to marry Hermangarde (Roxane Mesquida), and she's not prepared to say goodbye.

If this slice of sexy is right up your alley, the film will open on June 27 at IFC Center & Lincoln Plaza Cinemas, and On Demand, before rolling out nationwide.

It consistently amazes me that, despite all the stuff we complain about living here in the United States, that we still have it so much better than most of the other countries on the planet. We're so used to our freedoms that any perceived infringement on them seems like an affront. But imagine if you lived in Iran, where all you're craving is more information than the government-run TV stations are giving you. Satellite dishes, though, are illegal, mainly because of programming that the government thinks is immoral. Many internet sites, especially those that are in opposition to the fundamentalist Muslim government, are blocked. Western music and movies are banned. How would you deal with all the restrictions?

That topic is examined in Head Wind, a fascinating documentary from Iranian filmmaker Mohammad Rasoulof. In the film, he shows that Iranians are starving for information and entertainment, and in this digital age, the government, as hard as they try to, is having a hard time stopping the tide.

Today is the semi-official start of the Summer Blockbuster Season, but don't despair! The (Mostly) Indie Film Calendar is here to fill you in on cool stuff happening outside the multiplexes in the coming week -- the perfect antidote to mainstream ennui. If you know of something interesting going on near you -- retrospectives, special screenings, etc. -- please let me know! Point your e-mail thingee at Eric.Snider@Weblogsinc.com and I'll put it on the calendar.

INDIE THEATRICAL RELEASES

• I don't know if famed critic-hater David Mamet still counts as "independent," but I'm including his new film, Redbelt, here just in case. It's a heady drama about a martial-arts instructor who gets tangled up with a Hollywood film shoot, a misfired policeman's gun, and several other things. ME LIKEY. Opens today on a few screens in New York and L.A.

• Son of Rambow was, hands down, the best film I saw at Sundance last year. It was snatched up by Paramount Vantage, which for some reason sat on it until now. It's a funny, creative, and sweet story about two British kids in the mid-'80s who film their own homemade version of First Blood (aka Rambo I). Cinematical's James Rocchi reviewed it at Sundance 2007 and loved it too, in case my word isn't good enough for you. It's in a few theaters today, with more to come.
  

After the jump, more indie releases in theaters, and a list of special events happening around the country....

If you thought leading a revolution was easy, try filming one. In The Huffington Post, Jeffrey Wells of Hollywood Elsewhere discusses Steven Soderbergh's two-part Che Guevara biopic, comprised of The Argentine and Guerilla. Despite earlier rumors to the contrary, it appears that both movies will definitely screen next month at the Cannes Film Festival, where Soderbergh was warmly welcomed last year for the premiere of Ocean's Thirteen. The reception of his latest project could be even more positive, but its distribution prospects are another story: As Wells explains, Soderbergh's project guarantees to offend some people for its apparent exclusion of Che's stint as the overlord at La Cabana fortress, where he ordered the execution of over 600 political prisoners. Add to that the heavy amount of Spanish dialog and the director's insistence that the two movies should be enjoyed as a four hour-plus package, and you've got enough red flags to send even the bravest U.S. distributors packing.

Wells, who read both scripts, analogizes the project to Lawrence of Arabia. "Hey, how about presenting the two films as a single, gargantuan Lawrence of Arabia-styled deal with an intermission, running between four or four and a half hours?" he suggests, perhaps somewhat tongue-in-cheek.

Jon Stewart had it right during the Oscars this year when he ironically geeked out over Lawrence of Arabia on an iPod. If most audiences can't appreciate that movie on the big screen now, why would they turn up for something like this?

The HBO-produced documentary film Baghdad High offers a fairly basic yet intriguing enough premise: The filmmakers gave video cameras to four Iraqi high school students and asked them to simply record as much of their "normal life" as possible. (I'm of the opinion that any time you give a teenager a camera, you're getting everything BUT "normal life," but obviously I'm not the first to claim that the act of recording something instantly obliterates "normalcy.") The point here seems to be that ... hey, you know what? Aside from the fact that they live very far away in a country that's going through some terrible problems these days, these teenagers are a whole lot like ... our teenagers! Wow, how shocking is that?!?!?

What's most interesting about these kids is that, despite the fact that they all live in Iraq, they also come from very different religious backgrounds -- and yet they're still friends! (Hope for the future sometimes comes in small packages, I suppose.) All four of the boys are perfectly charming and entirely typical: They whine about homework, they stress over studies, they gripe about being bored, they argue with their parents, and they do all the stuff that your favorite teens do: Video games, pop music, sports, rough-housing, etc. So far all its admirable intentions, the simple truth is that Baghdad High makes a very good point about the similarities of human nature (especially where teens are concerned), but then it just sort of ... keeps making the same point over and over.

If nothing else, Eric Rohmer's The Romance of Astrea and Celadon raises many interesting questions about the nature of the auteur theory and film canons in general. Rohmer is a certified auteur, and a world master. He has made many, many good films and a few great ones, especially when adding entries to his three celebrated series: "Six Moral Tales" (in the 1960s and 1970s), "Comedies and Proverbs" (six films in the 1980s) and "Tales of the Four Seasons" (in the 1990s).

These films, which often have a relaxed, al fresco quality, mainly focus on young, smart, attractive contemporary French people who talk a lot get themselves into romantic situations. When he departs from this successful formula, as with his last two films, The Lady and the Duke (2001) and Triple Agent (2004), the results are considerably less. So when a filmmaker like Rohmer makes something as blatantly, painfully awful as The Romance of Astrea and Celadon, it brings such ideas into sharp relief.

Though the Dogme 95 movement caused something of a stir in the film community at the time, the films made under its banner were, to put it mildly, a bit downbeat. Only Lone Scherfig's Italian for Beginners (2002) could lift the fog. Scherfig had a talent for presenting depressing characters in a lighthearted way, and still managed to resolve everyone's problems by the end of the film.

Her film was a Hollywood ensemble comedy wrapped up in an enjoyable, intelligent art house package. As a result, it grossed over $4 million; the second highest grossing film in the series was The Celebration (1998), which made just over $1 million. None of the rest even made it that far. Working within the Dogme manifesto required Scherfig to follow ten specific rules, which included not making a period piece or genre film, using only props found on the set, using only natural sound (music must emanate naturally from the set), using hand-held cameras, natural light, no special effects, etc. The idea was that the rules would restore "truth" to cinema.

The low-key Spanish import Fermat's Room falls into that (very small) sub-genre that I've just now designated as "math horror." (Vincenzo Natali's Cube also belongs in this group, and maybe even a few other movies that I can't think of right now.) This is a strange but engaging Spanish thriller in which four well-established mathematicians convene after receiving a mysterious invitation, and then find themselves trapped inside a shrinking room. The only way out is to solve a bunch of math riddles, but the biggest question is this: Why the heck is someone trying to kill four mathematicians in the first place?

Handsomely shot and boasting fine work from its five main only actors, Fermat's Room is the sort of mystery / thriller that will appeal to folks who enjoy a good mind-bender as much as they dig a good foreign flick. It's certainly not as bizarre (or nearly as bloody) as Natali's Cube, but I'm betting the films would make for a pretty interesting double feature all the same. And while some of the in-movie puzzles are relatively obvious (hell, they even borrow one from Jim Henson's Labyrinth!), the movie as a whole proves to be sort of a puzzle in its own right. The third act revelations might not be all that shocking, but they work well enough in the low-key context of the piece.