Regional Review: Drive-In (1976)

There's an extended scene in Rod Amateau's "Drive-In" that places a majority of the film's characters circling each other at a roller skate rink as they flirt, fight and discuss their upcoming weekend plans. Not only does this scene feel uniquely antiquated due to its now foreign setting of a by-gone juvenile playtime (which I took part in weekly myself) that no teenager probably even knows about today, but it creates an innocent introduction to a host of kids without a hint of sarcasm or irony that would surround a scene like this today. Basically, "Drive-In" is a film of its time... and its a wonderfully realized representation of small town Texas.

Filmed in the flat, suburban town of Terrell, Texas (approximately 30 miles east of Dallas), "Drive-In" centers its action around the now defunct drive-in theater that once existed in the small town. Sadly, its now a gas station. We're introduced to a variety of people. There's Orville (Glenn Morshower, the man best known for playing Aaron Pierce on "24"), the laid back good kid who finds himself unwillingly fighting for the affections of beautiful Glowie (Lisa Lemole), even though her ex-boyfriend Enoch (Billy Milliken) is the leader of a local gang. Two older men, Will (Gordon Hurst) and Gifford (Trey Wilson, always remembered for his role as Nathan Arizona in the Coen Brothers "Raising Arizona") plan on robbing the drive-in theater later that night. Local town stud Bill (Kent Perkins) and his girlfriend have taken the first step of engagement, but they are having second thoughts. Throw in the casual mix of best friends, little brothers and adults trying to maintain a grasp on the teenagers and "Drive-In" resembles the many efforts that track teenage angst and emotional confusion through the course of one long, aimless night.

Director Rod Amateau is an interesting study. Mainly working in television, his only other film credit is the 1987 "Garbage Pail Kids Movie". From a visual stand-point, "Drive-In" is ordinary. It's the witty, Texas-lingo'ed script by Bob Peete that makes the film. Full of head-spinning analogies and aw-shucks sayings ("whoo, whee bless your mom and dad" when one character sees an amply bossomed girl), it also features some wise, philosophical moments, especially in its recreation of young love. As Glowie, Lisa Lemole (beautiful beyond belief) gets the best of them. A bit of the eye-roll is necessary at times, but that's the most charming thing about the film. Owing itself to a long line of Texas cinema, we seem to be indebted to the listless days and nights that dot our childhood. From filmmakers Richard Linklater to Texas perennial Eagle Pennell, the minute focus of a small group over the course of a short period of time has been the cathartic ambition of Texas filmmaking. And the ordinary Texas setting of Terrell fits right into the catalog of normal landscapes playing host to larger-than-life events that shape and formulate the young lives of Texas men and women. Whether its a drive-in theater, a local watering hole ("Last Night At the Alamo") or the last night of high school ("Dazed and Confused"), what really matters are the connections we create and destroy at pivotal times in our lives.

Regional Review: August Evening

Chris Eska's "August Evening" feels like a seminal Texas film. In capturing the humid, lazy evenings of Southeast Texas and those beautiful orange skies that temporarily pop up in the summer months, "August Evening" speaks volumes about a certain lifestyle. But things can also be hard in this idyllic setting, as the film soon reveals. After the death of her mother, Lupe (Veronica Loren) and her migrant worker father-in-law Jaime (Pedro Castaneda), leave their small shack and bounce back and forth between family members in San Antonio as they desperately try to find a place in this quickly evolving world. Lupe, once married but resistant to meeting anyone new for oblique reasons, forms a relationship with Luis (Walter Perez) that develops in patient, gentle ways.


The initial reaction to "August Evening" is to lump it in with other films that document the rough struggle of Hispanic men and women to fit into the American sideline of life. But a majority of the men and women in Eska's film have already successfully adapted and conquered the hardships of this transition. Jaime's daughter, Andrea (Grisel Rodrigues) is married to a rich white man... so busy with her own life that she doesn't even spend a day at home with her father after the funeral of her mother. And when Jaime and Lupe travel to San Antonio, she gives them shelter for a few days, but finds that putting up with two more people in their luxurious house is too much of a chore and shuttles them off to Victor (Abel Becerra), her brother. Victor's situation is just as stressful, compromised all the more when Lupe mistakenly allows Victor's youngest son to wander away from the house... a plot device that spells out just how vastly different life is from their country shack to the cosmopolitan San Antonio. The main point of "August Evening", while drawing out small sketches of personality in its well-drawn characters, is that life is hard in America, but it's even harder amongst this individual family.


Filmed in the mid-Sothern parts of Texas such as Boerne and Gonzales Texas (i.e. the hinterlands south of Austin and north of San Antonio), Eska nails the laziness these parts of the exude. And while the brilliant sunsets and humidity leak off the screen, most realistic is the sound of crickets that swells and dies off in one scene. Anyone spending any time in Texas surely understands that unmistakable chorus. Released in 2008, "August Evening" was a feature in South By Southwest that year after winning the John Cassavettes award at Sundance in January. The award, which recognizes the best feature made for under $500,000, gives filmmaker Eska a bright future, but once one watches "August Evening", the proof is right there on the screen.

Regional Review: R.O.T.O.R

If you're like me, this poster for Cullen Blaine's "R.O.T.O.R." is a memorable jog down VHS memory lane. No budget to the max and filmed in and around Dallas and North Texas in the late 80's, "R.O.T.O.R" (which stands for Robotic Officer Tactical Operation Research) attempted to gain some additional mileage out of the popularity of Paul Verhoeven's "Robocop"- another film shot in Dallas due to its then futuristic downtown skyline. But "R.O.T.O.R" is no "Robocop". With a cast of no names whose performances border on extreme camp and very little action until the final 30 minutes, "R.O.T.O.R" does belong in a very small sub sect of films that use Dallas as a backdrop. I just wonder why it always has to be of a city fatigued by futuristics thugs, rapists and thieves?

Beginning as Dr Coldyron (Richard Gesswein) is booted from his beloved project of creating a superhuman robotic police officer due to bureaucratic impatience, "R.O.T.O.R" lingers on the concrete jungle of downtown and I-35. As something goes terribly wrong with his project and the officer is unleashed on the Texas population, the film's no-budget becomes increasingly apparent as the film turns to night-time scenes "somewhere off I-20 West", locating itself around unspecific gas stations, farmland and Lake Dallas (which is nowhere near I-20 unfortunately). In terms of visual acuity, "R.O.T.O.R" has none of it. The pleasure from this film, though, lies in its so-bad-its-good dialogue and obvious affinity for cheap theatrics, such as a robot whose neck is a dryer hose and spouts off lines like "I think this is how the Terminator got its start." In the right frame of mind, "R.O.T.O.R" can be terrifically entertaining though.


Joining the very limited ranks of North Texas set films- Shane Carruth's "Primer", Wes Anderson's "Bottle Rocket", Mike Judge's "Office Space" and the aforementioned "Robobcop" as the most famous- Dallas comes in a distant third behind Texas filmmaking cities. While Austin and Houston contain firm production companies and outfits of filmmakers, Dallas has a spare filmmaking identity. While "R.O.T.O.R" has done little to advance this cause, it's fun to step back in time almost 20 years ago and see even a bad movie glamorizing my fair city.

Regional Review: The Whole Shootin' Match

The story of Eagle Pennell is a truly tragic one, yet we can always find beauty and redemption in the archived work of a filmmaker (justly) coming to light. After IFC snuck Pennell's 1984 film "Last Night At the Alamo" into their lackluster rotation a few months back, I feel privileged to have seen two Eagle films now. His second film, "The Whole Shootin Match", released in 1978, has been credited as the film that encouraged Robert Redford to launch the Sundance Film Festival. And I can't imagine a better film to watch on a hot July Texas night when it's still 95 degrees at 11pm.


Like most of his characters, Lloyd (Lou Perryman) and Frank (Sonny Carl Davis) are decent southern boys constantly trying to carve a niche for themselves amongst their nights of chasing women and drinking. In "The Whole Shootin' Match", Lloyd and Sonny fare much better than the layabouts in "Last Night At the Alamo", though to be fair, that film is strictly about one night in the life of a closing Houston bar and its denizens. Lloyd is an especially inventive guy, continually creating things out of PVC pipe and metal in his backyard. Yet in his customary fatalistic world-view, Pennell chooses to end this stroke of good luck as a corporate fast-one. The good 'ol boys are taken for a ride and lose out on their patent for a mop by a shady downtown Austin businessman who blinds the guys with a wad of quick cash- cash that Sonny quickly wastes on a suit and convertible. While a small part of the film documents the duo's brave attempts to scratch out a living on the fringes of society, the real gist of the film is their lazy interaction with each other and the women in Sonny's life. While this aspect of the film is highly entertaining and Pennell scribbles out some intently hilarious conversations between these two slow-drawl guys, "The Whole Shootin' Match" is (to me) a much more valuable commodity for its anthropological take on Texas in the mid 70's.

Filmed in and around Austin, Pennell frames a bit of his film in the concrete jungle of downtown Austin (as the previously mentioned scene where the guys sell their idea and get taken) but the majority of its setting is the hinterlands of south central Texas. Largely anonymous dirt roads, backyards and darkened highways, Pennell does evoke a serene beauty during the film's final images of the guys wandering in the clustered hills west of Austin. The clash between good 'ol boy nature and hippie central (Austin, well noted, is known as the most liberal city in Texas) is touched on as well during a scene where the guys attempt to kickstart a new polyuerthane business on a unique house in the Austin hills. Whether he means to or not, Pennell conveys alot about the clash of personalities in his films. More sure of himself in the hazy interactions between drinking buddies than fully realized relationships, "The Whole Shootin Match" does give ample screentime to Sonny's wife (a wonderful Doris Hargrave) and her slow attraction to Sonny's cousin (Eric Henshaw) in scenes that come off funny and real. The act of giving a bicycle to Sonny's young son squeezes alot of mileage out of its simple plot point. Pennell condenses alot of personality in conversations and "The Whole Shootin' Match" is a film full of them.


A poignant footnote to my viewing of "The Whole Shootin' Match" was certainly overshadowed by the news of actor Lou Perryman's death just a month or so after this film's DVD release and the virtual excitement being stirred by Pennell's maverick filmmaker status. Watching the scenes towards the end of "The Whole Shootin Match" as Lloyd and Frank dutifully search for lost gold in the hills, yet another unfulfilled get-rich-quick scheme in their never-resting-minds, I kept coming back to the image above as Lou rests on the downslope of a hill with a large tree blotting out the sky behind him. If ever there was a more glorious image of a man at peace with nature, this is it. Again, whether he meant to or not, Pennell and alter-ego Lou Perryman delve into the beauty of the Texas lanscape with a singular feeling for what makes this great state so breathtaking at times.

Regional Review: Last Night At the Alamo

Another check marked can be applied to one of the films on my Produced and Abandoned Must See list. And, of all places, it's viewing came courtesy of IFC. Yes, in between their 125th showing of a film called "Let Him Have It", the channel slipped in ONE showing of Eagle Pennell's seminal Texas cult film. It felt like the proverbial needle in the haystack.

Pennell's second film, which has been marked as the inspiration for filmmakers like Richard Linklater and Robert Rodriguez, tells the simple, drunkenly tale of the patrons of a bar in Houston during its last night in operation. With a few exterior shots in the very beginning as Ichabod (Steven Mattila) and his girlfriend Mary (Tina Bess Hubbard) drive to the Alamo bar, Pennell's film is an example of indie filmmaking on a sparse budget. Even though the city of Houston is largely unrepresented, the languid and humid coastal Texas summer setting hangs over every frame of the film. It's the type of heat that we've all experienced- we drink to stay cool and never stay cool because we get drunk. 99% of the movie takes place inside the dank Alamo bar where sunlight seems to act as bright rays of sun that sends piercing stabs into the bar darkness. And the assorted cast huddled inside the bar- the brash and good looking Cowboy (Sonny Carl Davis), the drunk and lovelorn Claude (Lou Perryman)- hover from the light and sink deeper into their drinks as the night wears on. There are fights, shotguns pulled, LOTS of swear words (from a very liberal and rambling script by Texas screenwriter Kim Henkel best known for his collaboration with Tobe Hooper on "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre") and fights that threaten to break up relationships...everything that routinely happens in a beer-swigging, loose Texas bar on its final night of business.

"Last Night At the Alamo" breaks no new rules. The joy of the film lies in its rag-tag bunch of layabouts and misanthropes. The most dynamic character, Cowboy is just that- a boot wearing, smooth talking, long sleeve shirt wearing good 'ol boy who blows into the bar and gets everyone whooping and hollering. He eventually hooks up with the prettiest woman in the bar (Amanda Lamar) who ends up in the bar with her friend, overdressed and "slumming", pisses her off, starts a fight, and drives away in the same drunkened state that seems to cap off every night. At that's precisely the underlying point of "Last Night At the Alamo", an ironic title if I've ever heard one. Even though the Alamo is closing- an event that hints at an economic depression in the area- and a stalwart establishment is taking its leave, the Ichabods and Cowboys and Claudes of the world will continue their merry-go-round of drinking and talking long after the Alamo fades in their memory. They'll just drink and flirt and fight somewhere else. Tomorrow night will be the first night somewhere else. Pennell accurately captures this passing of time with humor and grandiose Texas swagger. And from all the stories I've read of him, Cowboy may be his alter ego. "Last Night At the Alamo" is definitely a film worth waiting for. Now, if only IFC would schedule MORE shwoings of it.

Cinema Obscura: Expect the Unexpected

Patrick Yau's late nineties action thriller, "Expect the Unexpected", certainly lives up to its title. Executive produced by everyone's favorite Asian director Johnny To, Yau's film bears a close resemblance to some of To's work, especially the crime-ridden urban environment of "Breaking News" in which violence seems to be seeping through every crevice of its downtown locations. In "Expect the Unexpected", the plot again concerns the abrupt clash of cops and crooks. As the film opens, a jewelry store robbery goes horribly awry, forcing the criminals to escape into a high rise apartment building with the cops in tow. Three different criminals watch all of this with anticipation from a cafe across the street since the very same apartment building seems to be their captivity grounds for kidnapped and assaulted women. While conducting a search from apartment to apartment, the cops discover this and find themselves hunting two separate groups of criminals. In the mix are two police sergeants played by Simon Lam and Ching Wang Lau (both staples of Johnny To films) who both fall for the cafe owner (Yo Yo Mung). If one can get through some of the very lame attempts at humor and some awful subtitles, there's a great little masterpiece within "Expect the Unexpected".

Formally, Yau is a great director of action films. Remember, this film was released in 1998 which means the shaky-cam has (thankfully) not yet entered the visual language of cinema. Instead, we're treated to long steadicam shots and carefully composed medium shots which neatly construct the logistics of space and placement during several shoot out scenes- especially the final one. But the real joy of "Expect the Unexpected" (as I alluded to earlier) is the sneaky translation of the film's title. If one thinks they know how this will turn out, think again. Yau doesn't ruin anything with a soapy twist ending, but he does play our expectations into a stunning reversal that will leave you breathless.

"Expect the Unexpected" is available on DVD.

Regional Review: The Unforeseen

The idea of a documentary about the impending collapse of a nature reserve due to housing development and urban sprawl sounds amazingly dry, but in the hands of documetarian Laure Dunn (and executive producers Terence Malick and Robert Redford), the notion suggests something close to riveting crime scene analysis. In the late 70's, the boom of Austin, Texas poised an interesting dilemma- continue to grow as the state's capital and expand through modern architecture and urban development or maintain its "country family" outlook with a few dashes of liberal (i.e. environmentalists) state of mind. The center of attention for "The Unforeseen" becomes Barton Springs, the largest natural spring water pool in the United States, located in an area that comprises over 300 acres south of Austin. As Austin grew and suburban housing developments became a modern way of slicing up the land and morphing into a metropolis, the city was faced with a dire situation that pitted government against the lowly voter. A political tug of war ensued into the late 80's as the film carefully charts the ebb and tide of manipulative funding institutions, development Realtors, common folk who reminisce about a Barton Springs before pollution, and even George W. Bush. If it's about the evils of Texas politics, then you can be sure W makes an appearance.

But even though Dunn's sympathies are clearly laid out from the beginning (why else make a movie about this??), she does a respectable job of presenting some gray areas as well. The film begins with the life story of Gary Bradley, a West Texas real estate developer who gets in over his head with the housing market in Barton Springs. Inching closer and closer to bankruptcy as the fight over Barton Springs dovetails over the years (and eventually martyred as the scapegoat when the banking and loans crisis hits in the late 80's), Bradley still isn't painted as the big bad corporate guy. Dunn portrays him as a man who simply wanted to make his mark in his homeland state and give something back to the land that nurtured his farming family as a child. In this regard, "The Unforeseen" becomes an even handed examination of the problem. And when Bradley sheds a few tears over the experience, it doesn't ring hollow. Even though I personally have never been to "Barton Springs", I feel a little closer to it's natural landscape and the battles that have given it new life.

French Horror Done Right

Alexandre Bustillo and Julien Maury's "Inside" is terrifying. I don't know any other way to put it. After so many pf the recent wave of French horror films missed the mark ("Haute Tension", "Them", "The Ordeal"), Bustillo and Maury take a simple premise- a pregnant woman home alone on Christmas Eve, ready to give birth the next day, and the emergence of a sadistic other woman (simple billed as "the woman") trying to get to the unborn baby- and wrench every bit of tension and disturbing psychology out of it. Taking place largely in a single house over the course of the night, "Inside" is brilliant in the way it squeezes enormous chills out of lighting and camera placement. There's one stunning sequence as the pregnant woman sits on the couch, and a simple head move reveals a dark figure looming slowly behind her... and then the figure recesses back into the shadows as the pregnant woman stands up. It certainly could have been CGI, but if it wasn't, it reveals the keen eye of directors Bustillo and Maury for atmospheric scares.

The sadistic woman, played by sexpot actress Beatrice Dalle, is a relentless force as she sulks through the film in her flowing black gown, grabbing any sharp instrument she can as her weapon of choice. It's a ferocious performance, exemplified by the almost primal way she's framed in one scene from a long shot down the hallway as she violently kicks on the bathroom door that her prey is locked behind. Dalle is beautiful, but "Inside" juxtaposes that weird beauty in frightening ways. She's calm and exacting, which gives her kills an even more menacing feel. And then there's the blood. "Inside" probably flushed half its budget on buckets of blood. Imagine the shooting finale of "Taxi Driver"... how gritty and blood spread those scenes were and you get the idea about "Inside". The same style of lighting, exaggerated and yellow fluorescent, is used to the same effect in "Inside" by cinematographer Laurent Bares, but there are also extended lengths of time where low lighting (or full on blackouts) are the vision of choice. Sometimes, blackness in horror films depletes any energy, but here it elevates the tension as Bustillo and Maury give us glimpses of figures at the edge of the screen. And I've yet to mention the music, or lack thereof. While the opening gives us strings of orchestral music, once the action begins it turns into disconcerting noises, shrieking violins and an unnerving pulsating noise by musician Francios Eudes (also responsible for "Haute Tension"). Everything is done right and it blends into an altogether riveting and spellbinding masterpiece of horror. But is it really happening? "Inside" can be seen as many things. An attack on the restlessness of French youth and it's repercussions on suburban lifestyle (since the film takes place during the riots of French citizens)... the precarious and fragile state of mind of a woman about to begin her life as a mother... or an act of simple revenge? The film can be read several ways. No matter how you read it, it's an utterly disturbing experience, and one of the best films of the year.

Note- there are 2 versions out there. See the unrated version, which is about 7 minutes longer.

Regional Review: Room

Director Kyle Henry's debut fiction film, "Room", inspires comparison to the weird vibes present in a lot of David Lynch's dreamy narratives. And while Henry's film leaves just as much to be desired in way of commercial closure as Lynch's trips down nightmare alleys, the overall effect isn't quite as effective. Almost though... and that's a pretty good compliment.

Julia (Cindi Williams) is not your typical movie star. Middle aged, out of shape and average lower middle class, she makes ends meets by working nights in a bingo hall. She has two girls and a loving husband and a scrapped-together existence in Houston. Inexplicably, images start to imprint themselves in her head when she sleeps, eventually overtaking her emotions, causing random black outs. The visions, shown in saturated video clips which include a drone buzzing sound, reveal an unidentifed room. Unable to function and driven by the images, Julia robs her bingo hall and hops the first flight to New York. Once Henry's film globe-trots out of the muggy Houston atmosphere, the mood becomes strange and elliptical, neutralizing spoken dialogue for long stretches as Julia wanders New York City hoping she can find the room. Williams gives a believable performance, transitioning quietly from a subservient mom to obsessed seeker. And director Henry is clearly more interested in the evolution of this single character rather than servicing a story with logical resolution. Not only does Julia leave her suburban Texas life behind, but she initiates a one-night stand with a man in a bar (wearing a cowboy hat and calling himself Big Tex, naturally) and, in the movie's most vivid moment, seeks the advice of a fortune teller. It's a compelling scene that most closely resembles the cryptic impulses of Lynch.

Running only 70 minutes, University of Texas graduate Kyle Henry seems to be struggling with developing from short films and documentaries to feature length efforts, but "Room" showcases a distinct eye and ear for avant garde filmmaking nonetheless. "Room" was nominated at the 2006 Independent Spirit Awards for its John Cassavettes award. Henry's other cinematic passion is editing, and the subliminal cuts to Julia's disturbing images prove a deft touch in image and juxtaposition. The latent feel and expertise is there, now I'm wondering what Henry can do with a fully formed script. Produced by Michael Stipe and Jim McKay, "Room" benefits from their production company, C-Hundred Film Corp which seems to be a mainstay for true independent filmmaking. Not only have they produced a majority of McKay's own films (including "Our Song") but the films of Christopher Munch ("The Hours and the Times" and the hugely underrated "Sleepy Time Gal"). It's encouraging to see a company with disciplined attention on films that could fall through the cracks. "Room" certainly qualifies as one of those films, saved from extinction and breathing life into a burgeoning filmmaker. I look forward to what Henry does next.

Coming Soon: Regional Reviews

In the latest issue of Film Comment, there's an article on Texas filmmaker Eagle Pennell. Not only is it a fascinating read on a maverick filmmaker, but I'm ashamed to admit I've never heard of this man before.... or any of his films. But, in reading more and more about him, it seems evident that his films (along with the work of John Cassavetes) eventually wound up inspiring what we call "independent films" today. In fact, Pennell's 1977 film, "The Whole Shootin Match" which played at the 1979 USA Film Festival, has been quoted as the film that inspired Robert Redford to create the Sundance Institute.

How can such a large part of cinema history go unnoticed or undocumented for so long? Pennell eventually produced 6 feature films and one short, all based in Texas and employing the basic same cast members. Richard Linklater claims Pennell as a major influence. None of Pennell's films are available on anything except out of print VHS copies and there's been very little retrospective writing on his career, even though he seems to be a larger-than-life figure who caused more destruction by his drinking than his filmed efforts.

All of this got me thinking- I live in one of the largest states in the United States and our film history is exponential, boasting some highly innovative filmmakers and works who get very little attention (as I'm sure every state could claim). So, to rectify that in my own small way, I plan on seeking out Texas made films and shedding some light on their existence. This may be an arduous process at times... tracking down out of print VHS copies or soliciting the many local video stores for homemade, off-the-wall personal experiments, but its an undertaking I feel compelled to attempt. If we don't understand and experience the miles closest to home, how can we ever really call ourselves cultured in the base attributes of our native lands? So, be watching for 'regional reviews' (regional being the term applied to independent films before there was an independent movement) and enjoy.