#1: PEOPLE I KNOW

Starring Al Pacino, “People I Know” is a cynical film that is likely more honest than I imagine. It is about a publicist in New York City and the behind-the-scenes dealings through which he helps a movie star, builds his own career and organizes a societal event. Pacino is a truly fascinating character, part-sleaze, part-senile and part-cunning. We see in him an old master who still occasionally reappears as his suave, former self, but is mostly hitting rock bottom both mentally and physically.

Inadvertently coming into possession of a compromising videotape, he is soon intimidated by the city’s elites and the ruthless and conniving nature of its civic leaders – who act only out of personal greed – which emerges suddenly and dramatically.

Apparently this film was not distributed because Miramax did not want to paint a negative picture of New York City post-9/11. But this is really not a New York City film, but an indictment of a shallow, greedy, heartless and ambivalent bourgeois society. And Pacino’s deterioration is not even really a depiction of victimization, but rather the depiction of a man who can no longer differentiate himself from the world he helped create. He can no longer exist in this world while looking the other way.

It is an intelligent story, taking us in directions we never thought we’d go, and hinges on a performance from Pacino that must be both damning and redeeming; pathetic and empathetic. To see his balancing act for yourself, find the DVD, which will be released in July.

The thought that this film might never have been seen literally causes me pain.

#2: EL NORTE

Introduced by Ebert as a “modern independent classic,” “El Norte” tells the story of two illegal immigrants who fight their way into this country only to be surprised by how our shallow and ambivalent society treats them.

In some regard, this film is predictable by today’s standards. They sneak across the border, take the positions of most illegal immigrants as servants and servers, and then have their liveliness, heritage and energy stripped away layer by layer. However, at the time of its release (1984), it was a far different world, and the stories of people like this did not reach the mainstream public.

What I found most interesting about the film was its equal balance between their pre-border story and their post-border story. There is a focus here on where these people came from and the truly horrific journey that takes them first from Guatemala to Mexico and then from Mexico to America. And through telling this story, the letdown of this supposed “land of opportunity” is that much more tragic and profound.

Freely using metaphor and visual surrealism, “El Norte” is most interesting when it is showing the interpersonal conflicts that erupt as immigrants adjust to American life. The bonds of friendship and even family are obliterated as our consumerist, out-for-ourselves philosophy poisons these people’s minds and ambitions.

#3: MY DOG SKIP

One reason I love Ebertfest is that, among powerful, independent and artsy films, there seems to be an equal focus on the neglected mainstream works of recent years. To go from “My Dog Skip” to Errol Morris’ bizarre documentary “Gates of Heaven” to “People I Know,” all within one day, is quite a remarkable ride.

And to see “My Dog Skip,” I was reminded of the good that can emerge from big-budget, mainstream films. It is the sweet story of a young southern boy, narrated by that child as an adult, and the powerful bond that formed between him and his childhood dog which helped him learn the lessons of life.
At first glance it is something I wanted to scoff at, sneer at and denounce as manipulative and overdone. But seeing it again, it is not a film that really sells out. The character is put through challenges, and grows as the movie goes on. The story takes a few turns, but all of them are perfectly reasonable. And the lessons may be nostalgic, yes, but the emotions they elicit are earned.

Case in point: One of the last scenes concerns a dying dog on a bed – a very powerful image that would make most people sad regardless of the filmmaker’s talent. But in “Skip,” that dog is a character in himself, has established a bond with the audience and the narration at this point in the story is not stereotypical, but surprisingly affectionate, reflective and poetic.

Did I also mention that this is the very first film that I reviewed for a prominent publication? Taking furious notes, worried that I would blow my first, and maybe my last, writing opportunity, I now laugh at that worried college kid dissecting a film that lives in its intangibles. To summarize its story, characterizations or filmic style is really irrelevant. “Skip” either touches your heart or it doesn’t. Honestly, sometimes it’s just that simple.

And only at a place like Ebertfest is such a sweet and sincere sentiment appreciated appropriately.

Only 11 months left until 2005’s fest…