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Let's face it, family dramas are universal: one generation raising the next, the young resisting the old, conflict, tears, intense feelings, "you don't let me," "why don't you," and so forth. Watching Sunflower, a Chinese film from 2005 that finally hit DVD last week, I had the feeling that director Zhang Yang (Shower, Quitting) must moonlight as an alchemist. Working with very familiar, common elements, he makes something fresh and new.

Joan Chen (The Last Emperor, Twin Peaks) may be the most familiar face in the cast; she has quietly turned in one marvelous performance after another over the past 10 years outside the US studio system. (Check out the devastating, difficult The Home Song Stories.) Here she plays the pivotal role of Xiuqing, left to raise Xiangyang, her young son, after her husband Gengnian (the equally memorable Sun Haiying) is sent to a labor camp in 1967.

Gengnian returns from camp unable to continue his career as a painter, and so he transfers his artistic ambitions to his son, who wants nothing to do with this stranger who has taken over the household. Gengnian has a powerful will, though, and is determined to see his son succeed, whether he wants to or not.

The story takes place over four different eras of recent Chinese history as Xiangyang grows into a man and eventually contemplates fatherhood himself; Zhang Yang drew from his own life experiences for inspiration. Sunflower is simply told. The rich period details look gorgeous (Christopher Doyle served as visual consultant) and each episode leads inexorably to the next.

The DVD from New Yorker Video includes a "making of" feature and the original theatrical trailer. Sunflower is perfect for a summer evening's rental, a contemplative consideration of love, destiny, and the strongest bonds of all.

With Academy Award insanity upon us, it's a good week to catch up with several highly-acclaimed films that display the true independent spirit. Moolaadé was the last film completed by African master filmmaker Ousmane Sembene. Roger Ebert felt it was the best picture he saw at Cannes in 2004 and programmed it for his Overlooked Film Festival last year, where our own Kim Voynar caught a screening and said it was "perhaps one of of the most socially relevant films of the decade." The DVD from New Yorker Films was originally scheduled for release in December, but was delayed until this week. The two-disk edition includes a "making of" feature, a portrait of the filmmaker, interviews, a 16-page booklet, and more.

A very different type of music documentary, Kurt Cobain: About a Son, also premieres on DVD today, which makes me happy because I've heard so many good things about it but haven't had an opportunity to see it. A. J. Schnack constructed his film based on 25 hours of audio interviews with the late musician. You can read more about the release at Schnack's blog, All these wonderful things. The DVD from Shout! Factory includes selected scene commentary, a "making of" feature, and more from the Cobain interviews.

The Portuguese director Manoel de Oliveira, 98 years old as of this writing, is a walking bit of cinema history. Born in Oporto (where they make port wine) he reportedly worked on a film as early as 1928 and made his official directorial debut in 1931 with a short documentary, Working on the Douro River. Even though Hollywood had implemented sound by then, many other countries had not. And so Oliveira carries the distinction of being not only the oldest movie director still active, but also the only movie director to have begun in the silent era. In Europe, he's considered a master, with several films already in the canon. Despite all this, only two of Oliveira's films have received any kind of regular distribution in the United States, I'm Going Home (2002), which I consider a masterpiece, and the slightly more problematic, but still excellent A Talking Picture (2004). A third, Belle Toujours, opened briefly this summer in New York but has already gone.

Oliveira has made the majority of his films -- more than thirty of them -- since 1979, when he was already past seventy. Because of this, his films tend to be patient and contemplative, or to Western audiences, just plain "slow." He's like an old man driving a car in front of you; perhaps he's keeping us from getting to our destination faster, but if we could only see things from his point of view, maybe we could enjoy the drive a little more. He's learned how to really stop and appreciate things and he has pretty much earned the right to make any movie he feels like making. So he sets his sights on a sort of sequel to Luis Bunuel's Belle de Jour (1967), which, in other hands, would have been a travesty. And though it reunites two of the main characters from that masterpiece, it actually turns out to be more of a tribute or an epilogue than a sequel.

By the time you read this I will be in Portugal, and so it seemed appropriate that I should take a moment to talk about Portugal's greatest cinematic export, film director Manoel de Oliveira. Oliveira holds a curious record: he's the oldest living film director, and the only living film director to have worked in the silent era. His first film, Working on the Douro River, was an 18-minute documentary made in 1931. Hollywood had converted to sound by then, but many other countries were still silent. (Reportedly, he worked as an extra in a film as early as 1928.)

Currently, Oliveira is 97 years old and has a new movie out, Belle Toujours (additionally, he has finished one other and is in production on two more). I haven't seen Belle Toujours yet; it opened in June in New York and appeared like a blip on the box office chart. It's a sequel of sorts to Luis Bunuel's 1967 masterpiece Belle de Jour, with Michel Piccoli reprising his role as Henri Husson, who once helped sexually awaken the married, bored Severine (Catherine Denueve), turning her on to a life of daytime sexual depravity and mild sadomasochism. Years later, Severine (now played by Bulle Ogier, from Bunuel's The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie) meets Henri once again and the two come to terms with their bizarre past.

Have you noticed how many animated movies have been in the theater over the past few months? There have been Monster House, Open Season, The Wild, Over the Hedge, Barnyard, Cars, and The Ant Bully to name a few, which doesn't even cover the glut of sequels and straight-to -video DVDs that have been released and re-released, including last week's The Little Mermaid: Ultimate Line Our Pockets Disney Adamantium Edition. Of those, only Monster House doesn't focus on talking animals, insects or vehicles. As a result, the novelty of both animated films, and the concepts they bring with them are making audiences weary, according to The New York Times.

Popular animated movies used to belong only to Disney, and they released them sparingly, not wanting to step on the toes of their own product. However, once Disney/Pixar became a force to reckon with, Disney was releasing CGI films on top of its own traditionally animated films, and began crowding the schedule with more films each year. These days, animated films crowd theaters with offerings from Disney/Pixar, Sony Imageworks, Dreamworks Animation, Warner Bros., and Paramount/Nickelodeon. It's a jungle out there -- or a forest, or a farmyard, or ... well, you get the idea.

This is typical of the Hollywood "me too!" syndrome that hits when something works well and starts making tons of money for a studio. Everyone else wants in on it. Horror films started making money, so now everyone is putting out a lot of horror movies. The Lord of the Rings opened the door for more fantasy films like The Chronicles of Narnia, and Eragon, and the popularity of X-Men gave rise to a slew of comic book movies including Spider-Man, Superman Returns and the upcoming Ghost Rider.

Animated films have always been a treasure for younger and older audiences alike, and are part of a dwindling part of the theater experience that people can still enjoy as a family. Are you still going to see animated movies?


Other animation on Cinematical:

The Demise of Hand-Drawn Animation

Studios Still Don't Get Animation

Dreamworks Choosing Quantity over Quality

Golden Globes Adds Animation Award

Because the theaters in Bloomington-Normal, IL don't offer much to the art house crowd, members of the Illinois State University Cinema Society rented movies that were more their style, and got together to watch them. Unfortunately, they listed their screenings on the internet, and New Yorker Films happened upon the list. Noticing that they happened to hold distribution rights to 20 of the films screened by the group, they sent along a bill for $8000 in back fees.

Needless to say, the members of the ISUCS were shocked - shocked, I tell you! - by the bill and, since their budget is about $1300, can't really pay it. According to Curt White, the group's faculty advisor, New Yorker's bill is not only "a shakedown," but will also have the unintentional consequence of rendering the region completely free of independent and foreign films.

Here's the thing, though: wasn't it was sort of White's job to be aware of rights issues, and to advise the group about them? I mean, I worked at a little Midwestern high school, and not only did the faculty have to sit through a yearly copyright meeting, but my film class was also subject to exacting scrutiny by those in the know, and we spent a lot of time sorting out our distribution concerns. If this guy wasn't aware of them, he was careless. And yeah, it's sort of low for New Yorker to be demanding payment from a minor film society, but come on - aren't faculty advisors there for a reason? Quit whining and take some damn responsibility.

[via Movie City Indie]