Lights, camera, action: It's more than just movies
8:39 AM 4/05/04
Tom Alesia and Amanda Henry Wisconsin State Journal

On the scene at the Wisconsin Film Festival <

6:30 p.m. Thursday, Orpheum Stage Door: In Charlie Chaplin's 1925 silent film "The Gold Rush," a scene requires Chaplin's character to don a chicken suit. Despite demands on his time, The Little Tramp has to wear the suit because no one is convincing as his double - even if covered in feathers from head to toe. <

During the historic "Charlie: The Life and Art of Charles Chaplin," the scene is one of countless clips to showcase Chaplin as a timeless comic with a puppet's flexibility. <

Time magazine film critic Richard Schickel introduces his film with the confidence of someone who knows he holds a deck full of aces up his sleeve. <

"There is no one, there has never been and there will not be another Charles Chaplin," he says. "His work was touched by genius. We can only stand back and try to analyze it." <

A brilliant physical comic who painstakingly created scenes, Chaplin makes fest audiences laugh at 90-year-old work. <

Afterward Schickel, a 1956 UW-Madison grad, describes showing Chaplin films to his grandchildren and other kids. <

"They have this immediate response to him. They don't care that he doesn't talk or that the pictures are black and white. It's extraordinary in our world to have that kind of innocence and directness of emotion." <

Note to self: Rent Chaplin's 1929 film "Circus" and watch with 6-year-old son. - T.A. <

8:45 p.m. Thursday, Orpheum Theatre: "Is this the line for people who have tickets?" <

It's a question I hear again and again - always in a tone of mild disbelief - as the line outside the Orpheum grows behind us, like a starfish generating one particularly long arm. We of the line nod in response: benevolent, with just a soupcon of smugness. <

Other FAQ from the line zone: "Is this theater big enough for this?" <

"Do you remember the line for 'A Hard Day's Night'?" <

The good news is that it's warm out (by Wisconsin Film Festival standards), and the people-watching is top notch. There is some very sarcastic facial hair on display, and the woman in front of me is wearing either extra-large golf tees or extra-small wooden stakes in her earlobes. <

A passer-by hands out fliers for an event called "4 what." It's a multimedia per-four-mance that will include film images, sound, light and doughnuts, and it's scheduled to take place at 4 a.m. Sunday (also known as 4/4) - when, the flier notes, "there are no competing WFF films." <

Behind me, a group of young 'uns from Milwaukee discusses the fact that they haven't been in Madison since Halloween. <

"Basically what it reminded me of was Bourbon Street," one young woman tells a companion who missed the costumed revelry. Another member of the party offers a different perspective on Mad Town. <

"I would buy stock in Birkenstock just for the city of Madison." <

Inside the screening of "The Yes Men," festival director Mary Carbine gets a huge round of applause. Another year or two of this, and she could run for office on the cinephile vote. Carbine introduces co-directors Chris Smith, Sarah Price and Dan Ollman, who look like three-fifths of an alt-rock band, though they would probably all want to be the drummer. <

Conspicuous in the audience are Mark Borchardt and Mike Schank, the "stars" of an earlier Smith/Price collaboration, "American Movie." <

As the lights go down, I hear a guy down the row whisper excitedly to his companion: "Did you see 'American Movie'? I just asked the director from that movie where the bathroom was." - A.H. <

5 p.m. Friday, University Square Theatres: A grim French film made in Tajikistan (a country sandwiched between Afghanistan and Russia), "Angel on the Right" follows a convict's return to his hometown when his mother nears death. <

Despite the bleakness, there is one unintentional slip. The film, using English subtitles from the film's Tajik language, spells heroin as "heroine."- T.A. <

7 p.m. Friday, Bartell Theatre: The fest's best opening line happens in "The Fight," a documentary about the two battles between American Joe Louis and German Max Schmelling. With photos of these fierce boxers on the screen, the solemn narrator proclaims: <

"They came from nothing and did what they had to do to survive." <

"The Fight" isn't a sports movie. Boxing is the backdrop to a social and cultural commentary, both looming heavily over each person's corner. <

I get goosebumps when grainy footage shows 90,000 at Yankee Stadium in 1938 during their second clash. Sharply written, "The Fight" offers this perspective on Louis' popularity: "When (blacks) were at their weakest, he reminded them of their strength." - T.A. <

11:15 p.m. Friday, Orpheum Theatre: At some film festivals, the parties are mostly for stars and sponsors and a smattering of other wealthy folk. In Madison, you are more likely to see festival volunteers and staff, down-to-earth documentary filmmakers and assorted movie lovers. It's a time to unwind, talk about movies and eat something other than popcorn. <

The buffet gets worked like Jane Fonda's buns, circa 1985. - A.H. <

Periodically throughout the festival: Crowds never seem to know how to react to Planet Propaganda's edgy and offbeat pre-show taglines. I love the creative Madison firm's best film-related zingers, such as "Sometimes the boy gets the boy." - T.A. <

10:45 a.m. Saturday, University Square Theatres: The lines are shorter at this end of the festival, and the median age of the crowd is a bit higher. It's a mellow vibe, as you might at expect at a morning screening of "The Story of the Weeping Camel," a documentary about Mongolian camels and the family that keeps them. Even when the movie starts without sound, and the subtitles are not quite visible at the bottom of the screen, the grumbling is low-key. <

"Is this a silent film?" someone asks. <

"Why don't they stop it until they fix the sound?" <

The film stops. It recommences a few minutes later with sound and subtitles. <

"I kind of thought that was interesting, though, not hearing the sound," a woman behind me muses. - A.H. <

11 a.m. Saturday, Cinematheque: "My name is Tom Clark," says Tom Clark. "I'm El Dorko." <

The Cinematheque crowd cheers. Moments before, they had watched the 13-minute "El Dorko's" world premiere, starring Clark as a bumbling nerd in Los Angeles' tough neighborhoods and vicious corporate atmosphere. It's being pitched as a full-length feature film and it's just left-of-center enough to work. <

At "Wisconsin's Own Comedy Shorts," the post-screening discussion features eight young male filmmakers. (Hey, where are the funny women?) This is the only spot where a crowd member asks naturally, "Where did you get the breakaway glass bottles?" The same guy adds, "Does anyone know where to get a breakaway table?" - T.A. <

12:45 p.m. Saturday, University Square Theatres: From the Gobi desert to Burkina Faso: A good third of the audience exited the theater from "Weeping Camel" and got right back in line for the 1 p.m. movie, "Me and My White Pal." <

There is a rustling of Ziploc baggies as hardcore festival goers dip into their homemade sandwiches and baby carrots, with candy chasers. Someone stretches in the aisle. Snazzy film fest T-shirts are also percolating through the crowd; I spot more and more as the day wears on. <

Things I love about this festival, a partial list: <

It's totally cool to come alone. <

People don't masticate as loudly. <

Those Planet Propaganda intros - the retainer really speaks to me. - A.H. <

1 p.m. Saturday, Orpheum Stage Door: "Reconstruction" is arguably the fest's most fascinating film. This love-it-or-hate-it Danish work turns the romantic drama upside down and keeps viewers spinning. It's guaranteed to provoke the most conversation afterward. No other fest movie, not already set, deserves American distribution more. - T.A. <

2:30 p.m. Saturday, State Street: I'm booking it up State Street toward the Orpheum. I can tell I'm following fellow film festers, because they're talking movies in a serious way. After about a block, I recognize the voice of UW-Madison film professor David Bordwell, who is escorting Anders Thomas Jensen, the writer/director of "The Green Butchers" and co-writer of "Wilbur Wants to Kill Himself," from the Writers Seminar to the taping of "To the Best of Our Knowledge." (Jensen's "Wilbur" collaborator, Lone Scherfig, is on the program.) <

This is another lesson of the film festival: Stay alert, because that person crossing the street with you just might be a budding auteur, or renowned film scholar. <

The taping itself is interesting - tune in to Wisconsin Public Radio next Sunday to hear interviews with Scherfig, plus the directors of "Jockey," "Patriots Day" and "Stone Reader" - and also strange. The voices are so familiar, but seeing them embodied, as it were, is not. The funniest moment is when host Jim Fleming asks the assembled audience how many have seen "Seabiscuit." <

We raise our hands like good little students. Fleming gently suggests that applause might be better as this is, ahem, radio. - A.H. <

2:45 p.m. Saturday, Bartell Theatre: "Refugee" follows Mike Siv, a Cambodian native now living in America, who fled the killing fields with his mother in 1979 as a 3-year-old. He returns as a young man to meet his father and his brother for the first time. <

Packaged with Siv's film, "Who I Became," about another refugee in America, "Refugee" packs quite an emotional one-two punch. Between films, however, American rapper Prach, who is of Cambodian descent, breaks the ice between audience and subject. <

He performs three rap tunes, two in English and one in Cambodian. <

"Any of you Cambodian? No one? Any of you know someone Cambodian? No one?" Prach asks the crowd. "You do now. Me." - T.A. <

4:30 p.m. Saturday, Orpheum Theatre: Before the screening of "Stone Reader," I see Kate Davis, director of "Jockey," herding her young children away from the concession stand. <

"We made a deal," she is saying. "You said you wanted to do the film fest thing. ... " <

After "Stone Reader," we walk out past director Mark Moskowitz's son, who is at a table selling the DVD version of this wonderful film about bibliophiles. <

This festival has an intimate scale. Seeing a film with the director or writer (not to mention his or her kids) drives home the fact that movies can still be a personal form - a product of passion, as opposed to market research. <

It kind of makes you want to grab a camera and get out there yourself. - A.H. <

1 p.m. Sunday, Cinematheque: Fest director Mary Carbine looks exhausted but remains enthusiastic. <

The night before, she learned that the acclaimed Danish film "The Green Butchers" made its American premiere at the fest Saturday night at the Orpheum Theatre. The film's distributor, Newmarket, had been too busy with another film to tell her. <

What other film was so important to Newmarket? "The Passion of the Christ." - T.A. <

Contact Tom Alesia at talesia@madison.com or 252-6122 and Amanda Henry at ahenry@madison.com or 252-6188. <