Interview

POSTED: Thursday, January 6, 2011, 5:00 PM
Filed Under: Events | Interview | Movies screening
Kazuhiro Soda
Still from Mental
As mentioned in this week's Agenda section, Japanese documentary filmmaker Kazuhiro Soda will be at the International House (3701 Chestnut St.) to screen his documentaries Campaign on Mon., Jan. 10 at 7 p.m., and Mental on Tues., Jan. 11 at 7:30 p.m. You can also catch him at Scribe Video Center (4212 Chestnut St.) on Tue., Jan. 11 at 5 p.m. leading a "Master Class" workshop. But first, we caught up with him for a little Q&A action. Critical Mass: The first film you're going to screen in Philly will be Campaign. What can you tell us about it? Kazuhiro Soda: It's an observational style feature documentary I made in 2007 about an election campaign, which won the Peabody award in 2008. A friend of mine ran for office in Kawasaki city, a suburb of Tokyo. He didn't have any experience in politics, and he didn't have much money. He was a merchant who made a living selling stamps and coins. He was backed by the powerful LDP (the Liberal Democratic Party) in Japan. How can he win the race without any experiences? He had no money and didn't know anybody in the town, but we'll see how he fared. CM: What can you tell us about Mental?
Kazuhiro Soda
KS: It's a similarly styled observational feature length documentary, about small mental clinic in Okayama Japan. I observed patients and caregivers, staff and doctors in the clinic. I tried to observe the microcosm. It questions the boundary between the mentally ill and healthy people. If you closely look at them, the more you observe, it becomes more questionable the differences between the healthy and the ill. CM: How did you get interested in that topic? KS: I got interested in the subject because, I have experience in visiting a mental clinic at age 20. I was working too hard, I was diagnosed with burnout syndrome. It's very common among Japanese businessmen. You work too hard, you get burned out. I recovered quickly, but the doc told me I could get ill at any time. I was working on this project for a long time in Japan, a lot of colleagues of mine were ill or going to the mental clinic regularly. Some people committed suicide. I felt like this whole country was in this mentally ill state, like an epidemic. CM: What kind of reaction did Mental get? KS: A lot of people came up to me and said things like, "I used to have the same kind of issue" or "my mother is ill" or "my best friend is ill". Everybody is somehow touched by this, but it's kind of taboo. I wanted to lift the taboo. The world of mental illness is kind of covered by this invisible curtain. I wanted to lift the invisible curtain by aiming the camera. This film won many awards, one of which was the Best Documentary Award (PIFF Mecenat Award) at the Pusan International Film festival in South Korea. This is the biggest film festival in Asia. It also won best documentary at the Dubai film festival, and the Hong Kong film festival. At the Miami International Film Festival, it received Special Jury Mention (for the courage of subject matter). CM: How did you end up planning a screening in Philly. KS: I live in New York, and I met the director of the Scribe Media center at the Robert Flaherty Film Seminar. I was one of the filmmakers who was on that seminar previously. He saw my work over there and he wanted to invite me. CM: What can we expect at your lecture? KS: During the class, I'll talk about my observational method of documentary film-making. This style is directly inspired by direct cinema tradition--a style in documentary filmmaking from the 60's--as well as masters like Frederick Wiseman. When the portable 16mm cameras became available, film-makers took them too the street and started making documentaries. I developed my observational film-making method by watching these films. It's not so popular now, especially in America. Michael More style documentaries are much more popular. They have graphics, music and interviews. Direct cinema doesn't use any music, graphics or interviews; it quietly observes what's going on in front of the camera. It's like what people might call the fly on the wall type of approach.
Kazuhiro Soda
Still from Campaign
One of the things I practice is I don't do any research before making films, I don't even write any synopsis before I shoot. Because, if I do any research or meetings beforehand, I'm kind of locked in to my preconception. I usually just go to the scene with my camera and start shooting spontaneously, and I shoot whatever interests me. At that point I don't have any scene in my mind. I try to observe what's going on in front of me. I try to discover something new. Michael Moore always has a script, they always know what they want to say. They know what they want to accomplish before they make the film. For me, it's too boring because if you know what the film is all about before you film, then you don't discover anything--or, it's harder to discover anything. For me this observation method is a way to make myself open to many different accidents and possibilities. Life is full of accidents and full of possibilities, if you're open. Rather than being locked up to my original idea, I want myself to be open to the world and learn something. That's the key point to my style. I'll talk about my method and philosophy, and why I took particular choices. I'll also explain in detail how I made the films, and discuss the behind the scenes. CM: In regards to burnout syndrome, which you mentioned as being common in Japan, do you feel there is a vast philosophical difference between the work ethic of the West and the work ethic of the East? KS: What you are expected at the work place is different between Japanese society and American society. In Japan, no matter what you have, you have to do certain work in a certain way. For example, you have to make a 2 hour documentary and you have one million dollars budget. And you are supposed to make this documentary, but your budget gets cut to ten thousand dollars. In Japan you are still expected to deliver the same kind of film. I'm exaggerating but there is some sense like that. In America, it's more like everybody works according to the budget, nobody expects you to deliver the same things with different budget. *laughs* I don't think it's genetics, because Japanese Americans who grow up here, they don't share the same work ethic as Japanese living in Japan, I think it's cultural, just part of the tradition...
Harold A. Maio
Posted 2011-01-07 08:31:23
the boundary between the mentally ill and healthy people. If you closely look at them, the more you observe, it becomes more questionable the differences between the healthy and the ill.
The appearance of this "the" ought be a red flag to anyone, sadly it is not. "The" Jews, "the" Blacks, over time many groups have been subjected to it, and a great many of us accepted it. I am not sure why it is such a popular metaphor, but reducing groups to an abstraction seem to entertain us.

The reality behind each is the same. Mental illnesses do not discriminate, people with them are as likely highly successful as not, earn in the millions, hold high office, professional, blue and white collar jobs. We are first people, and then ill, Black, Jewish, whatever. 

Harold A. Maio, retired Mental Health Editor
khmaio@earthlink.net
Ryan Carey
Posted 2011-01-07 12:31:21
Harold, Kazuhiro Soda used "the mentally ill" the same way he would have used "the young" or "the wealthy" or "the syntax sticklers". It should be clear from reading the complete article (or even the rest of the sentence) that he does not descriminate against the ill (i.e. he refers to healthy people as "the healthy").

However, I can appreciate your empathy towards mentally ill people, and if you attend the screening, I think you'll find that Kazuhiro Soda does as well.
Harold A. Maio
Posted 2011-01-07 22:09:14
"The" healthy and "the" young differ from "the" mentally ill, as they differ from "the" Blacks. It is an interesting form, it can be employed  poetically, "the" gifted, and can be entirely the opposite. 

We are presently fascinated with the form, "the" mentally ill, and a few others, "the" homeless, "the" disabled among them.  They delimit our understanding.  

In my youth I fully appreciated "the" Blacks, their limits were carefully desribed for me. I believed those limits, only to discover culture had lied to me. 

I have not seen the film, will likely not get the opportunity, but I hope it includes a professor teaching German. Illness intrudes on our lives to various degrees, from little to consuming. It does not consume most of us. I hope the film shows that range.

Harold
Marce L.
Posted 2011-01-10 07:45:14
I had the opportunity to watch  K. Soda's documentary and read some interviews about it. 
In my opinion this kind of exchange is an interesting starting point to discuss about "the conception of mental illness" in the context of "the concept of culture ."

Harold refers to the concept of  "sub-cultures" when he talks about  "the black culture", "the youth culture"  ... on his words: "as a way to discover how culture (or  these cultural categories) had lied " to him .
From his point of view these categorizations are a risky way to divide, discriminate and control different expressions of the culture... and he adds "They delimit our understanding. "

The concept of "subculture" is an operational concept in the field of Anthropology for the purposes of the study of "inter cultural exchange"  (in Spanish language "interculturalismo " ).
This concept allows to analyze how these subcultures relate one to the other to confront or negotiate their interests.

Other examples of these categorizations are: "gender culture", "original cultures ", "the culture of cybernauts" ... etc.
To be part of a subculture, members of the same should be aware of it, have  a sense of belonging.

From this theoretical starting point... can we consider that " THE mentally ill " is  a sub culture ? are there any previous studies in this regard? I don't consider this category as possible.

As Harold writes "Mental illness" does not discriminate social classes or ethnic groups.
From the psychopathology field,  psychic structures are universal, that means,  cultures do not discriminate pathologies.

As social anthropologist I would like to add that the treatment of these diseases or their denial are culturally determined.
From this point of view mental illness are "ALSO" culturally defined not only psychologically determined.

we have to admit that we are "locked" by our cultural point of view.

Kazuhiro Soda  describes in his documentary how mental illnesses are treated at an mental institution in Japan.
His view is extremely respectful in relation to the mentally ill as well as mental illness, and he complains about the economic insecurity faced by mental institutions, which depends on government subsidies, (allowing to discuss about a "sort of institutionalized discrimination")

I am sure that if Harold has the opportunity to watch this documentary he will be  fascinated by Soda 's work. 

Marcela L.
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POSTED: Friday, December 17, 2010, 6:30 PM
Filed Under: Interview | Movies
Andrew Jarecki, director/writer/producer of All Good Things
Writer/director/producer Andrew Jarecki's All Good Things provides an absorbing theory about the Robert Durst cases — the 1982 disappearance of his wife, and two subsequent deaths 20 years later. For All Good Things, the names have been changed — Durst becomes Robert Marks here — to protect the possibly guilty. After helming the spellbinding documentary Capturing the Friedmans and producing Catfish this summer, Jarecki makes his first foray into fiction film with All Good Things (reviewed here). We spoke with the City Paper about the recurring themes of his work — true crime and family. City Paper: What fascinates you about true crime, particularly stories where guilt is suspected by never quite proven? Andrew Jarecki: I never ever thought, I'm interested in a particular genre. It's more that I hear an interesting story, and I take more of an interest in it. As I get closer to it, I start to realize it's similar to other things that I've done. I always think that I stumble into that situation and notice connections. But it's more like sleepwalking than a plan. I do try to listen to my intuition about things. If something interests me, I keep asking questions about it. I like things that are hidden. I think that when people hide things they're usually showing much more of themselves in the hiding than if they never hidden the thing to begin with. CP: Do you identify with the people/characters/families you present on screen? AJ: My family is unbelievably complicated, and I guess that's what probably makes them like all families. CP: How is your family complicated? AJ: They are a bundle of fantastic contradictions. A lot of my family members have alternative lifestyles and ways they do things and they criticize other family members who have other alternative lifestyles that are just as weird. The good thing about my family — and maybe it's liberating — is that my father is very good about talking about these things. There's nothing he won't discuss; he doesn't get offended. Our family doesn't mind a certain kind of self-analysis, so I became an in-house therapist for a lot of people that are in my life. I guess I look at families from that perspective. How families operate interest me, and how people set responsibilities. What do we owe each other for being born in the same house? I know brothers and sisters who hate each other — it's like the proximity of it that makes them go after each other. I love all the dividing lines and society rules. You're not supposed to have sex with your relatives, but millions of Americans do it. You're supposed to honor your brother and sister, but millions of Americans talk trash behind their back. These are rules we ignore. CP: All Good Things and Capturing the Friedmans are both, in their way, about sins of the father. You have two young sons. What messages are you passing along to them in your work? AJ: I sometimes think when I'm with my kids: What are the things I'm doing now that they will be made at me for later, and how do I avoid them? I know that my father did things when I was growing up — he created some impediments for me. They were his job to create, part of the trials and tribulations you have growing up so you get tough and adaptable. Being with my dad is like swinging with two bats. Sometimes he makes things difficult, or your can understand that's what a father will do. Like animals do — they fight internally so the young bucks become stronger and avoid trouble. In this film, the father behaves less like a father. The narcissism of this very powerful man ... his advice is meant to be taken as instruction. He doesn't think he is doing anything destructive.
CP: Katie (Kirsten Dunst) has a line in All Good Things where she says, "I've never been closer to anyone, but I don't know you at all." This could be used as the key to all of your films — where the characters think they know someone but don't have a clue. Why is that a running theme through your work? AJ: That's issue of identity is really important to me — that there is still privacy in an individual. If you're with someone and sleeping with them and you're having children—or not—with them, you are still independent and have secrets. I use that when I'm directing. I often will make an adjustment in a scene by going to one actor, and making an adjustment, and not go to the other at all. I think that that can have a really interesting impact. You're telling a secret to one actor, and it becomes like that game where one person knows something and the other has to guess. That's really how human beings operate with each other. If you try to do a business deal, or want to buy a house — almost every human interaction, whether it's a love relationship or a business deal — and in the Marks family, they are not totally unrelated — you don't have all the information. CP: How much do you think class was a factor in what transpired? AJ: I think that the fact that the case was never understood, analyzed or solved has a lot to do with the privilege of class. I think that was the case back in 1982 when [Katie] disappeared. When you have an enormously wealthy or powerful suspect or later defendant, there is a kind of conspiracy without a conspiracy. If you can't be sure to get a conviction on a regular person, but you think that there's a good chance that they killed someone, you send them through the machine. Because you think there is a pretty good chance to get a circumstantial conviction and send the person to jail. If you only have circumstantial evidence, let's say you don't have a body — and they didn't — I think there is often the phone call that comes from the mayor's office to the chief of police that says, "I would never tell you not to pursue a murder suspect, if you feel like this guy killed his wife, I say hang 'em high, but if you're not sure you can get a conviction, we'd be doing a lot of damage here to a very important constituent. I'd never tell you not to do the work, but be sure you're right." But if you have a murder with no body, you're never sure you're right. Who's going to take that challenge? In Galveston, the judge sees that the defendant is a person of unlimited resources. The judge is going to spend a lot of time protecting the record so they can't get overturned. When you are in Galveston and get a case with a high profile, you know for sure there's going to be an appeal, you let them do almost anything they want in court — like put the witness on the stand for two days and talk about tons of things that have nothing to do with the case. A poor defendant would never have that opportunity. CP: Can you comment on the Durst lawsuit? The family wanted the film stopped... AJ: Robert is a completely different animal from his family. His family is adamantly opposed to the film because the film doesn't work for their purposes, but he is adamantly opposed to his family. It was never his intention to sue us. He just wanted to see what he thought about the film for his own purposes. The Durst family wanting to sue us was a whole different thing, because they wanted to prevent us from shooting the movie. I don't think they were successful, but they certainly worked hard to keep the movie out of the public eye. It worked for a period of time.
Posted by Gary M. Kramer @ 6:30 PM  Permalink | Post a comment
POSTED: Friday, November 19, 2010, 2:45 PM
Filed Under: Interview | Music Philly Bands
Photo | John Vettese
Andrew "Hellmouth" Gray hasn't been a performing member of Hoots and Hellmouth since Labor Day, when he started teaching English again in West Philly. But his departure begs many questions. Would the band keep the Hellmouth in their name? Will Gray play at their show tonight at World Cafe Live? And what does the future hold? Turns out the answers are "yes," "yes," and "it's complicated." I dropped Sean Hoots a line on the road to find out more. He reports the show tonight will be not only Gray's last, but the group's first in Philly with the new overall lineup – which features Hoots (of course), mandolinist / crazy guy Rob Berliner (of course), regular bassist / singer Todd Erk and new vocalist / drummer Mike Reilly. Wait, drummer? Yes, yes, Hoots explained all of this in his super-comprehensive response, which touched on the band's Kickstarter fundraising campaign for their next record (now that they're no longer on Drexel's Mad Dragon Records) and the Tumblr you should follow to preview the band's newest songs. Read below to see what Hoots had to say. ...about Gray's departure: "He was a teacher before the band, and I think he just needed to get back to it. It's what he's built for, for sure. The parting was entirely amicable. We want him to pursue the life that's right for him, and vice versa. No bad blood at all...we still hang out when we're at home." ...about tonight's show: "We're all kinda lookin' at it as his last big blow-out with us, so it'll be super spectacular and meaningful and powerful and fun. It'll likely be the last time we ever perform his tunes on stage (barring any 'reunion' type shows down the line). Whether by tear or sweat, I suspect there won't be a dry eye in the house." ...wait, drums?: "Yup...drums! We still use the stomp boards, of course. And now we also have 4 vocals! The sound is getting more powerful and dynamic. We're touring right now, and the shows have been fiery fun...can't wait to bring it home." ...about the next Hoots and Hellmouth album being the first without Hellmouth: "I'm helming the ship as far as writing goes. Andrew's departure means that I'll be able to showcase a softer/quieter side of my writing, as well...really looking forward to that. We have a whole slew of new tunes both quiet and raucous, and we have plans to record in December with Jim Roll out in Ann Arbor, MI. Should be fun. We just started a Kickstarter campaign to raise funds for said recording." ...about other unexpected oddities: "I have a whole solo project in the works that'll combine folkish songwriting with R & B vocalizing and electronic beats. Oh yeah! I have a couple solo shows on the books coming up...night before thanksgiving at the Tin Angel and December 4 at Studio 34 in West Philly. Will probably start releasing tunes by January. 2011 is gonna be a year of mucho music from me."
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POSTED: Thursday, October 21, 2010, 5:30 PM
Filed Under: Interview | Movies Film Fest
Tony Goldwyn may be most recognizable to audiences as an actor who appeared in films like Ghost and From the Earth to the Moon, or as the voice of Tarzan in the 1999 film. But Goldwyn, the grandson of famed producer Samuel Goldwyn, has slowly been making his mark behind the camera. His directorial debut, A Walk on the Moon, written by Pamela Gray, was a terrific romance. Between features, he has directed episodes of Justified, Damages and Dexter for TV. Now he's has helmed his most ambitious project yet — the true story of Betty Anne Waters (Hillary Swank), a single mother of two who puts herself through law school to exonerate her brother Kenny (Sam Rockwell) for a crime he didn't commit. In this Q&A, Goldwyn talks about his career and his new film, Conviction. City Paper: Why did you shift your career from acting to directing? Tony Goldwyn: I never had any desire to direct at all, but 10 years into my career I felt limited, and so I started planning ahead and looking to be more proactive and take control of my career. I looked into producing, and thought I could develop projects. I got [Pamela] Grey's script, A Walk on the Moon, and I couldn't act in it, but I had a strong point of view about how it should be done, and [making it] I realized I loved directing. CP: Do you want to keep taking roles in front of or just behind the camera? TG: Acting is a good way to earn a living, but directing has become my primary focus. Directing feature films is the most challenging and interesting, and the fullest use of my skills as an artist. GK: Do you feel being in a famous film family destined you for a career in film? TG: The pressure I felt was that I better be successful if I was going to get into this, since the bar was set high. As I kid, I wanted nothing to do with it, but I started acting in high school and the bug bit me. In my 20s it was tough — a big name to live up to — but once I got the ball rolling, I feel lucky to be a part of the legacy and make a small contribution to it. CP: You've directed a dozen shows for TV, but only a few feature films. What stamps Conviction a Tony Goldwyn film? Is there a hallmark to your work? TG: I've made four films in 10 years, and directing for TV is fast — so film is a bigger undertaking. I think that [my work] is about exploring relationships — I'm interested in that theme — in Conviction between a brother and a sister or in Moon, a husband and wife with a marriage in crisis, or Last Kiss, turning 30 and facing a lifetime of commitment — so I'm relationship based. In taking on a story, I try to look at things as honestly as I can — showing all sides of an issue, not bad/good guys. Life is gray, and relationships are, too. I try to find the light in the dark, and not find anything too idealized or glossy. CP: Where did you first learn about Betty Anne's story and why did appeal to you? TG: I found Betty Anne and secured the rights nine years ago. My wife saw a piece on 60 Minutes about it, and I said I was too busy to watch. But I agreed that it's a natural story for a movie. What got my interest was the brother/sister story — there aren't a lot of them to be told. She spent 18 years of her life on her brother. What if she was wrong or unsuccessful? Would that have validated her faith? In this context, her struggle was gripping. CP: Because you are an actor, you know how to work with actors. What guidelines did you give the cast — Hillary has a great moment when she drops to her knees outside her house after a huge setback, and Juliette Lewis chews the scenery with relish in her two scenes. TG: I spend a lot of time talking to the actors. I cast very carefully, and make sure that they have the essence of what I need for the character. Casting is more than half of it. I communicate to them what I need, and we get clear on what we are trying to achieve. I give them freedom to explore the material and make them feel they can do anything they want — even if I guide them in a different direction. I try not to limit them as actors, or have them fight for their point of view. As a director, I'm only as good as the actors I work with, even if I don't agree with them. They can express themselves and surprise me, and things are usually better when they do that. CP: Conviction reunites you with Pamela Grey, who wrote A Walk on the Moon. Why are you both drawn to telling strong female-centric stories? TG: I'm very self-destructive! I don't really know the answer to that. Women fascinate me. I was close to my mother; she was an interesting, complicated woman. Women mystify me. Kenny, the man in this story, is a fascinating story. I'm impressed by women. I like strong women in my life. I'm drawn to them — the ones I'm friends with, and fall in love with ... my two daughters. I want them to be strong. They face adversity, which is good food for drama. CP: Can you describe how you approached the material — e.g., braiding the story as three interwoven strands around a single theme? TG: There was 40 years of story. The hazard of the story was the Movie of the Week version — we wanted to avoid that and find a compelling, original, organic way of telling it. We came up with the idea of the three time periods to tell it: her law school, 1995-2001; the moment of the crime 1980; and then the flashbacks to the characters as children. I thought it would be elegant and go back/forth in time from Betty Anne's point of view. I didn't want flashback devices to tell us where we were in time, or use film stock to indicate transition, but there was emotional logic to the transitions, but that audiences would have to work to know where we were. A lot was conceived in script, but we changed in the cutting room. We found that by chopping those [scenes] up and making them more impressionistic and using them as triggers and touchstones they were very effective. CP: One of the perils of telling a true story like this is that the outcome may be known in advance. How did you keep the story interesting so audiences are getting goosebumps, or welling up in tears? TG: It really is about creating a sense of doubt. People are pretty sure how it's going to turn out, or that she might be wrong, and then what? That does two things for me, it creates great dramatic tension — maybe you don't know where it's going — but the bigger issue is that when people do extraordinary heroic things in life, they don't seem heroic, but insane, or that people think she's illogical or unreasonable. She was a woman obsessed. I want the audience to doubt her, or feel that opposition and confusion and chaos and doubt her, so that when someone who made this kind of commitment and this act of faith that it's emotionally impactful and [you] experience viscerally what she believes in, when all logic and reason says the opposite. You try to tell the truth. That's what life is like. To do otherwise is not honest. I hate when things are glossed over or softened up. I don't like things gratuitously grim or gritty. We could have made it relentlessly grim or dark. But Betty Anne is a passionate, positive person. To watch her suffer would not be accurate to her character. CP: As Betty Anne asks her kids — would you go that far for your brother? TG: Well, I don't know. You never know until you're in that situation. I have five siblings and I'm close and devoted to all of them. When I was a little kid, I felt that the one person I couldn't live without was my brother, and that used to cause me anxiety. I don't know if I have what Betty Anne does, but I hope I do. In my life now, I ask, "How am I actively loving the people in my life who I say I love?" I hope people come away from this film asking that question. We have become self-focused and take a lot for granted.
Posted by Gary M. Kramer @ 5:30 PM  Permalink | Post a comment
POSTED: Friday, September 3, 2010, 7:00 PM
Filed Under: Interview | Movies | TV
Courtesy of Warner Bros.
Charlie Day as Dan in Going the Distance
The main goal of Going the Distance (in area theaters today) is to be anything but the typical romantic comedy: The lovelorn leads (Drew Barrymore and Justin Long), stuck in long distance relationship, speak in expletive-laced sentences rather than amorous cliche. Many thanks are due to Charlie Day, who plays Long's roommate Dan, and steals every scene he's in — whether it's giving heartfelt relationship advice while taking a dump or soundtracking Long and Barrymore's first tryst with "Take My Breath Away." But, of course Day is a scene-stealer; you've watched him do the exact same thing for six seasons as Charlie Kelly on It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. We called up Day to chat about Going the Distance, the new season of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia (Thu., Sept. 16, FX, 10 p.m.) and why the ladies love Charlie Kelly. City Paper: I think a lot of romantic comedies live or die on the role you play in Going the Distance — this quirky best friend to the bland romantic lead. It can be the best part of the movie... Charlie Day: Or the worst. CP: Like Bruno Kirby in When Harry Met Sally... CD: I definitely wasn't thinking about being the next Bruno Kirby. I thought about the part the I was doing and just thought about doing the best that I could. But I also thought about making him real, and making him a guy you like so he wasn't just some stereotypical sidekick. I thought it was good that Jason Sudeikis was there too, so it was the two of us and not just about one guy who is always there to be the shoulder to cry on. CP: You're working with Jason Sudeikis again in your next movie, Horrible Bosses. CD: So far so good, obviously I haven't seen anything cut together but what we're shooting is certainly really, really funny. Boy, I hate to see how they mess that up. CP: Did you just fall in love with Sudeikis' Tom Selleck mustache? Was that it? You just couldn't get enough of it? CD: That was it. And I had him on the set of It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia this year this will be third Sudeikis-Day joint you can see. CP: As a Philadelphian and representative of our illustrious ilk, I do have to ask about the next season. Can you give me any hints? What can we expect? CD: There's a lot of good stuff, we've got some great guest stars: Dave Foley from Kids in the Hall, he comes on and he's super great; Tom Sizemore did a funny little thing. We did some really good episodes. Put it this way, Charlie and Dennis actually make it out of Philly for a little bit of an adventure. CP: You're leaving us?! CD: We're not leaving! We're just going on a little bit of a jaunt to Atlantic City and it makes a really great episode. CP: If there's one place that you could make look worse than Philadelphia, it's Atlantic City. Did you guys go there? CD: We actually shot it in Philly, in the Harrahs Casino in Port Charles [Port Charles is where General Hospital is set, so we think he meant Chester]. CP: Did you get to gamble? CD: I did not, I did a lot of acting. It was a long day. Chase Utley and Ryan Howard were in that episode, and they're really funny. CP: I've read that you were a baseball player in college. How strong was your desire to just play catch with them all day? CD: We did get to. In the scene, Dennis has a catch with Chase Utley and I asked if I could get in it for a sec and I threw him a knuckleball that blew his mind. CP: So we should we expect you batting in Howard's spot soon? CD: I could come in for a few relief innings but I don't think I could get a bat on the ball. CP: One of the similarities you see between your Going the Distance character and Charlie Kelly is this certain sweetness. It's kind of like you've both been dropped on your heads a couple times but it only served to make you a nicer guy. What makes you gravitate toward these sweet-dunce roles? CD: It's definitely like that in Horrible Bosses too. The simple answer is that's part of the reason I got cast in that role. But also the sweetness comes out to make him real, and not a total cartoon character. You have to believe in the person as a real person and what helps me as a performer is knowing what the character is in love with or cares about. With Charlie Kelly, it's the Waitress and with Dan it was Garrett [Justin Long]. CP: The male bonding you get in this movie is so much more than in most romantic comedies, and director Nanette Burstein lingers on you more than she has to. CD: Yeah, I think that was in an effort to not be a totally stereotypical rom-com. And also in an effort to make it funny for both the girls and guys, and it's not just following that love story for the entire time. You're flushing out the world so they're not just these cartoon characters that you go for a joke or two but you get to live their world for a minute or two and see that, for lack of a better term, they're real people. CP: I've met an inordinate amount of girls who say they would sleep with Charlie Kelly. Not you, not Charlie Day. CD: I think it's a fine line. CP: You say it's a fine line. But I don't think you're sleeping in your long underwear with Danny DeVito every night. CD: I've noticed a change in the last couple of years. I don't know whether it's sympathy or there's just a sheer animal attraction to a man in long johns.
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POSTED: Thursday, September 2, 2010, 3:00 PM
Filed Under: Interview | Movies
From Fatih Akin's Soul Kitchen
A decade before you could DJ with computers, the writer/director Fatih Akin was spinning hip-hop on vinyl. A child of the '80s, he purchased hundreds of LPs back in the day but he recalls, "The first record I bought — when I was 12, in 1986—was Parade by Prince." He boasts, "Now I have more than 100 vinyls of Prince! That was my very first one. I liked him since 1984's Purple Rain. I would record his songs on the radio with a tape recorder, and then, when the [disc jockey] talked, I'd be like, Oh! I got him on the tape!" Akin's musical memories explain where his interest in American soul music comes from, and, like his other films, the genre is an essential ingredient in his new film, Soul Kitchen (at the Ritz at the Bourse) about a put upon restaurateur named Zinos (co-writer Adam Bousdoukos), who names his titular eatery because of his similar passion for soul. Zinos has troubles with his back (a slipped disc), his finances, his girlfriend Nadine (Pheline Roggan), his criminal brother Illias (Moritz Bleibtreu), a tempestuous alcoholic chef Shayne (Birol Ünel), as well as a health inspector, a tax inspector, a freeloading tenant and other assorted individuals. This is a reunion of sorts, bringing together stars of Akin's previous work: Soul Kitchen is a farcical comedy, full of slapstick moments, and closer in spirit to Akin's early film In July, which starred Bleibtreu. However, Akin is best known for his extraordinary dramas, Edge of Heaven and Head-On, the latter of which starred Ünel. Ünel steals every scene as the film's hotheaded chef. Akin says he loves working with Ünel, trying to deflect a question about Ünel being very much like his wild, alcoholic character on screen in his real life. Eventually, he confesses, "He's difficult to handle. He's like a crazy brother to me. I love him, you know." Akin eventually acknowledges the truth about his actor, saying, "When I was younger, I had a naïve idea I could rescue him in a way, but only he can rescue himself. That's the problem with addiction." He praises his cast playing together "like a good soccer team." And part of this may be Akin's reliance on employing his wife Monique as his casting director and casting his brother Cem in a supporting role. "It has its advantages," Akin says about working with family and friends. "But it's exciting to work with new people, too. When you meet someone you don't know, you have to find out who this person is. It's like dating. And you have to listen to them, and you want to treat them right. It's work. I'm very lazy — practical — it makes more sense for me to work with people I already know are good, and what they want."
Akin said he looked at many comedies for inspiration, settling on Chaplin's Modern Times over the equally brilliant output of Buster Keaton. "Chaplin was more hysteric than Keaton," Akin insists. "[Zinos] is a more hysteric character — doing gymnastic movements on the dance floor. This is like Chaplin, in a way." Yet, Akin also culled elements from contemporary comedies, citing the Coen Brothers' The Big Lebowski as an influence — particularly a scene in the end of that film in which a character is reunited with his prized ferret and looks into the camera. Akin laughs at the memory. But slapstick hilarity was not the only source Akin drew from: He mentions Martin Scorsese's Bringing Out the Dead as a source for another shot in Soul Kitchen, one where Zinos falls to the floor in agony with back pain, and the camera falls with him. Despite Akin's love for Americana, working within the Hollywood system is not his goal. "I love American films. I'm a great admirer of them," he says, "but I don't want to come here and make them. They tell you what to do and how to edit them — I would struggle with that."
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POSTED: Friday, August 27, 2010, 3:00 PM
Filed Under: Interview | Movies
Olga Kurylenko in Neil Marshall's Centurion.
British director Neil Marshall made bloody, gory waves in 2007 with The Descent, a bleak and decidedly atmospheric horror film following an ill-fated cave exploration in the Appalachians. But since then, the media whirlwind has died down, and Marshall has moved on to other projects, including two new movies and an entrancing, writer, model actress, horror buff, artistic collaborator, and ball-and-chain by the name of Axelle Carolyn. His newest flick, Centurion (in theaters today), is a different direction for the filmmaker: A period film based on the wars between the Picts, an indigenous ancient British tribe, and the invading Roman Empire in the first century. It's a historical adventure or sorts, revolving around a band of Roman soldiers who survive the famous Pictish attack on the Roman Ninth Legion and must endure further hunting by their guerilla attackers. I sat down with both Marshall and Carolyn to talk about the making of Centurion, production races with another film and Mel Gibson. City Paper: Centurion is a new direction for you. You've done horror with Dog Soldiers and The Descent, and post-apocalypse with Doomsday, but this is a period piece. Why did you decide to go in that direction? Neil Marshall: It's the kind of film that I've always wanted to make. I love watching that kind of movie, so ... it's just another genre that I wanted to tackle. And I guess it's kind of a mix-and-match as well. It's very much in the model of a Western, with an ancient history sensibility as well. CP: Westerns are obviously tied into the American mythos. Is the history here — the focus on an ancient British tribe like the Picts — tied to a kind of British mythos? NM: Well that particular frontier of Rome was the farthest frontier, and it was, to them, the Wild West; it was untamed ... And so I treated it very much like that. I modeled it in some ways on the old John Ford cavalry movies, and it has a similar sensibility in that it's very un-PC: telling the story from the invader's point of view and the gray areas that result from that. There are heroes and villains on both sides. The Picts are like the Comanches, and there are a lot of similarities, like the fact that they wear the war paint. And yet, that's not fabricated, that is what the Picts did. So the parallels already exist, I just put them on film.
CP: In that sense it's obliquely political not only because you're conflicting sympathies between the Picts and the Romans, but also because it's bound up in the idea of the individual being forsaken by the society to which he or she has been so patriotic. NM: There was the general overview that emerged as I was writing it that it is about the superpower of the time going into this country and having to deal with guerrilla warfare, and the results of that. And obviously that's going to have comparisons with events in the world over the past 40 years, as well as what's going on now in Afghanistan. But once I came to that comparison, I didn't want to ram it down the audience's throats. People will see it if they want to see it. But at heart I'm making a historical adventure movie, and I don't want to turn it into some kind of gratuitous allegory. Axelle Carolyn: I think that Neil is the least political person you could possibly find ... I think that very often that makes the most interesting and personal films, when you don't set out to ram a message down the throats of people. NM: ... My dad was in the army, my granddad was in the army. So I definitely have an affinity for soldiers and the like. And so my film is about the individual. It's about the fact that, regardless of what you may think about these campaigns, be it Rome, be it what's going on in Afghanistan, whatever — I, for one, totally support the soldiers and want them to come home. And that's primarily what the story's about — this bunch of guys who are betrayed and become disillusioned by the job that they're doing and just want to get home. CP: It seems like there's a bit of tension here. Centurion is very heavily genre-influenced. In a lot of ways, it's just kind of a history thriller. But at the same time, there's something more intimate and melancholy about it than the average period piece. How do you want your audience to react to the film? NM: I think that, at first, I want it to be a thrill ride. But they will hopefully carry something else away from it. It's not necessarily a film of happy endings. There's a resolution, but in this situation I don't know what a happy ending would be. My endings are always a big ambiguous anyway ... this was no different. But is it melancholy?
Centurion direction Neil Marshall
CP: I guess maybe more doleful. NM: I always knew that the visual tone of the movie was going to be very downbeat; I set out to make a bleak movie in every sense. It was going to be about these people getting massacred, and it was in a bleak environment with bleak conditions, and I wanted that. I deliberately filmed it in winter and deliberately put everybody through hell. I graded it so it would feel even colder and bleaker. ... You know, this was inspired by me standing up on Hadrian's Wall as a child in the pouring rain in the bleak Northeast of England and thinking, God, what must have it been like for these people to come from the Mediterranean and face this enemy that is so terrifying that they built this 60-mile long wall to keep them out? CP: It was shot in seven weeks, right? Which is five weeks under the normal length for such a movie. NM: Yes, we worked very fast. I like to work fast anyway, but with this one, a part of it was that I got a lot of criticism on Doomsday for overcutting the movie, for making it really frenetic and fast. So with this one, I was making kind of an older style movie, I watched a lot of older movies as well and noticed how they were perfectly happy to just sit back and watch a scene play and not have to cut in or do any of that. So it was a conscious effort to try to shoot more of that style and let the actors move and not try and mess around with it so much — just let the scene play out. AC: I think that for most people, seven weeks sounds like a lot of time, if they don't work in film. But at the same time, The Wolfman was doing reshoots, and their reshoots took longer than the entire shoot for Centurion. NM: The comparison I use is The Battle of Sterling in Braveheart. [Mel Gibson] had six weeks to shoot that entire battle. We did our entire film in seven. CP: Well I guess Mel Gibson isn't one to do something on a small scale if he doesn't have to. But it does have, despite being kind of an epic, a more intimate feel than a lot of others, and I assume that was intentional. NM: I'm sure I would have loved to do a huge Braveheart-style battle, but we simply couldn't afford the extras or visual effects to do that, so I had to plan around the money that we had at the time, the time that we had, and make it feel bigger than it actually was. The bigger scenes with the crowds, literally if you turned the camera that way or that way, there was nobody there. Everybody that we had was in the shot. And we just tried to plan it so that there were a few shots within that scale; the rest was into the nitty-gritty of the individuals hacking and slashing. CP: I wanted to ask you a question or two about the language in the film. There were obviously certain things you wanted to keep historically accurate, but why did you decide to make the Romans speak English and leave the Picts speaking Pictish. NM: It was always the case that I wanted the Picts to speak something other than the Romans did ... But obviously the problem that we had was that there is no recorded language of the Picts, so we had to come up with the most ancient language that would fit the profile. The experts will tell you that Welsh is the most ancient language that we have in the U.K., but it just seemed inappropriate to have these Scots speaking Welsh. However authentic it might be, it's still not the right language. So what we actually had them speak was Scots-Gaelic, which is a very ancient language; maybe not as old as Welsh, but old enough. AC: I think the problem is that there've been talks of making the film in Latin. The thing is, not only is that very impractical, especially when you shoot on a reasonably low budget where you cast your actors a few weeks before they start shooting — they don't really have the time to learn the language. But also, commercially you can't really get away with it. Mel Gibson can get away with it because he made the most profitable independent film of all time; he's got his own following. NM: You come under fire from people online saying things like they wouldn't have been swearing like that. And yeah, but they wouldn't have been speaking in English either. If they're going to speak English, they might as well swear in English. But I wanted to get a sense of this kind of banter between the guys that represented what I think the soldiers would have been like then: just as they are now. AC: I do see your point though, that it's not so much about trying to make it historically accurate as it is about depicting the Picts as being the ones that you don't necessarily straight away identify with, because they have this other language ... It wasn't so much to show one side as being more foreign or more remote. NM: It was also a part with Etain [a mute], who can't speak any language. Which is all about that lack of communication. CP: You just want her to be more of a force. NM: Yeah. A lot of people have asked if I made her mute because I cast Olga Kurylenko in the role, and a Ukrainian actor wouldn't have fit the part, and that's absolutely not the case. The character was mute from the very first draft of the script. I wanted her to be a force of nature who expressed herself purely through violence and action and aggression. I thought that was really interesting for a character. I also thought it would be really interesting for an actor to play a totally mute character. It's a real challenge for them.... Even Olga was like, "Just let me say a few lines." And the answer was, "No, you get to scream, and that's it." And ultimately she embraced that.
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POSTED: Friday, August 13, 2010, 3:00 PM
Filed Under: Interview | Movies

IFC
Life During Wartime director Todd Solondz
Sitting upright, fingers laced together over a bright green button-down, with glasses and All-Stars to match, you wouldn't think director Todd Solondz is responsible for some of the darkest, most unsettling moments in American cinema. But here he is, the director of such infamous celluloid as Happiness and Storytelling, smiling and pleasant as can be, even after a full day of interviews. We chat for a while about the Jersey suburbs and The Art of the Steal. But mostly, we talk about Solondz's newest movie, Life During Wartime (which Sam Adams reviewed in this week's issue). It's a sequel of sorts, loosely following the fates of a number of characters from Happiness as well as Welcome to the Dollhouse, and the consequences of the truly messed up shit they've done to themselves and each other. And as we talk, his demeanor starts to make sense. Mr. Solondz isn't a misanthrope. He is not compelled to project his hatred onto all humankind, or even a lowly interviewer. He's just a realist. City Paper: How important do you think it is for the audience to understand the supporting mythos laid out in Happiness? Todd Solondz: It's unclear, because I think you certainly don't need to know anything in order to follow the storyline. It requires no prior knowledge of any of my work. And in a certain sense, that's the best way to go in, to know nothing and to surrender to what's put before you. But if you have seen my earlier work, you have, on the other hand, a certain advantage of the way in which you can connect the dots; they way in which you can see how I've played with the story and the characters, and that can be it's own pleasure. Of course, the danger is that it can make you overly self-conscious so that it makes it more difficult to access emotionally the characters. CP: The beginning of Life During Wartime is almost shot-for-shot the beginning of Happiness, so it puts Joy in that same position she was in at the beginning of Happiness. How much do you think she, or even other characters, has changed? TS: The design there is to make you feel as if you're watching Happiness all over again, for those who have seen that film. Very self-consciously so. To set the audience at ease, so that I can then throw them a curve ball or pull the rug away and let them know that this movie isn't going exactly where you might think it's going. And then you can surrender to the movie. Joy, well, it's up to you. I leave it to others to define how different, how changed or not, these characters are, years later. CP: But it seems that the audience can never be fully at ease, given the dark subject matter. TS: It's not about complacency. In real life it's important to be polite, but when you make movies it's important not to be polite. You don't want any barriers to get into articulating those things that are so difficult to articulate in real life. Movies have a way of speaking of things that it's very hard to talk about. CP: It seems to be a more overtly political movie, and in that sense more motivated. What was behind making Life During Wartime? TS: Well I think it is very much informed, the writing, by my post-9/11 experiences. I remember after the Twin Towers collapsed, there was a beautiful moment when there was a groundswell of people struggling to say, "How can I help, what can I do?" And I remember Giuliani responding, "Go shopping." And it was such a slap in the face, such an obscenity... The subtext there is all about insulating yourself; it's a message of insularity. Then, with the fact that there's no draft and very discrete segments of society are going and waging war, or the disenfranchised are waging it. Coffins are not photographed, and taxes are reduced; it doesn't matter if we have Obama or Bush, we're very insulated from the experience of what it means to be at war. And so the movie's suffused with that sense in it's own oblique way. You have Joy who wants to do good, as if good intentions are enough. You have the son, who tells his father he should have cut and run. And of course, little Timmy who talks of his troubles with understanding 9/11. I think it's responsive of these — we have these lives insulated from the war at large, but they're engaged in their own war amongst their intimates and themselves. CP: New Jersey's been such a big part of your films in the past, but here it almost seems like a wasteland — somewhere the characters are trying to flee. TS: Well, I don't spend too much time in New Jersey, but in my movies, it is a metaphorical place. It doesn't have to be New Jersey, it could easily be a suburb of Ohio or Michigan. And it's how I think most middle-class Americans live... I grew up in the suburbs, so it's only natural that I would be somewhat familiar.
CP: The movie's also fairly self-reflexive in that it's brought together the characters of Happiness, but at the same time the Welcome to the Dollhouse/Palindromes mythos. In that sense it has a kind of finality to it. Are you planning on moving on from these characters and stories? TS: The next movie I'm doing doesn't incorporate any of these characters, but we'll see... I can't talk about it in abstraction until it's all done, but it incorporates none of these characters. CP: I know you've had some trouble with the MPAA before with Happiness and Storytelling. Did you have any issues with Life During Wartime? TS: No, because we never submitted it. There was no need. It's going out unrated. To get a rating costs money, and we didn't need to spend the money, so it's not playing in theaters where it's really relevant. CP: Are you basically giving up on ratings? TS: No, it's not that I'm giving up. If they're useful and it makes sense economically, we would get one, but it doesn't right now, so there's no need. CP: Who do you want to see this movie? Did you have any specific audience in mind? TS: I'd like to say it's an open-minded one, but it's a certain sensibility some people appreciate. It's difficult because the comedy and the pathos are so entwined, it's such a fine line that I walk. It's hard for people to know sometimes how to respond, but some people do, and I'm appreciative of that. CP: I heard that you hate directing. Is that true? TS: Well it's not so much that hate directing. I don't think my character's really cut out for it, but I'd rather I fuck it up than someone else. I think that the price of getting one of my movies made is I have to direct it. If it weren't for issues of time and money, it would be very pleasurable. CP: Life During Wartime is shot on a RED camera. Why did you change over? TS: It was more economically feasible, but we embraced it artistically as well. It's really about the cameraman. If you have a cameraman that's an artist, that's what matters. Ed Lachman is that, and so we're all very pleased with that. CP: How much of the end results of your films are due to budget constraints versus aesthetic choices? TS: It's hard to separate the two; you're always making compromise no matter what the budget is, whether it's 10,000, 10 million, 100 million. You just have to make sure those compromises don't undermine the core values of what have driven you to want to make that film in the first place... I've never had to make a compromise I couldn't live with. CP: In Life During Wartime, Timmy is completely bound up in the notion of becoming a man, which, in the context of the adult characters almost seems like a fool's game. Why do you focus on this so much? TS: He's at a juncture in his life, adolescence is about to descend upon him, and it throws into relief certain fundamental and moral issues that are embodied in the way in which the father has lived his life. CP: What exactly is the moral core of this movie? Is there one? The children seem to be the only ones searching for any sort of authority. TS: ... There is a moral gravity, but it's implicit. It's not a moralistic film in that it's not prescriptive. It's exploratory. People say they love mankind or embrace humanity, but those are abstractions and therefore platitudes without substance or meaning. We are, in fact, as humans, only human insofar as we are defined by our limitations. Of course you have Bill Maplewood who is a pedophile, pedophilia being something I have no inherent interest in, but as a metaphor for that which is most demonized, feared and loathed it's hard to beat. I think most Americans would feel more comfortable with Osama bin Laden at their table than a pedophile. But it becomes a kind of crucible for the audience to question what they can embrace. What are the limits of what we can accept, embrace, forgive? CP: I wanted to ask about Chloe. She's a very quiet character, but she seems to function as a kind of benchmark for innocence against the problems of the adult characters. TS: I'm more concerned about her future than her brothers, because she's already medicated. A friend of mine taught a class, and years ago he would have the students on the first day of class say a couple words about themselves. And they'd say, "Hi, my name is Marcy and I love the films of Spielberg, and I hope to make comedies." And he would go around like that. And today when he teaches the course, it would be, "Hi, my name's Marcy, and I'm bipolar, and I take medication." And so many people do, and there's so little that's understood about the full resonance and impact of this medication. Chole's the youngest of the Maplewood children, but I have to include everybody in the sequel. I couldn't include just the boy; otherwise I'd have to say she had Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. She grows up, and I enjoy her company. I think she's very sensitive and sensitized to a lot of the troubles that surround her. CP: You mentioned earlier that you have a new movie in the works. Can you tell me about it? TS: Just that the title is Dark Horse.
Posted by Eric Henney @ 3:00 PM  Permalink | Post a comment
POSTED: Thursday, August 12, 2010, 1:47 PM
Filed Under: Interview | Movies
Universal Pictures
Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera, left) does battle with an evil ex (Jason Schwartzman) in Edgar Wright's Scott Pilgrim vs. the World.
In preparation for my interview with cast members and the director of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, my first plan of action was to frantically read the source material — six comic books by Bryan O'Malley. In a conference room at the Ritz-Carlton, Michael Cera sat two chairs down from me and said, in so few words, exactly how I felt about Edgar Wright's adaptation. He practically whispered under his breath, "It's art imitating art." O'Malley and Wright agreed from the beginning that the film should complement the books instead of attempt to mirror all six; the film, Wright said, "had to become its own beast." "Bryan was happy with it because everything was in the same kind of spirit," he said. "There are things he can do in the comic that we can't do in the film and vice versa. It's more concentrating on what we can do in the film that he can't do in the comic." The story of Scott Pilgrim is equal parts action and romantic comedy — the titular character's (Cera) goal is to fight new love Ramona Flowers' (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) seven evil exes (including future Captain America Chris Evans and one-time Superman Brandon Routh). Wright's version of the seven fight scenes — one for each ex — has actors flying through the air as the theme music from Street Fighter plays in the background — not exactly something O'Malley could pull off on paper. But, even though he's clearly intrigued by the medium, Wright didn't simply want to copy video games like similarly-minded movies. "I thought that'd be an interesting aspect to takes bits of video games that all of the film versions leave behind," says Wright. "The thing that's weird with video game adaptations is most of the video games are based on films so when you get around to the film of the video game it feels like a weird Xerox." That meant the filming of fight scenes beyond the experience of most of the young cast. Jason Schwartzman, who plays the evilest of the exes — and Anna Kendrick, who plays Scott's constantly clued-in sister, elaborated: Jason Schwartzman: The fight sequences were something I've always wanted to do. Wire-fighting was really a remarkable experience. It's terrifying because you fly up in the air a couple times and you look over and see how they're actually doing it. It's just a guy jumping off a ladder with rope and his body weight is propelling you and then he's got Nyquil in his back pocket and you think is this really safe? Edgar had it all planned out and it was very safe. It took about three weeks to shoot it. In fact, the way it was scheduled, I got married in the middle of the fight scene. Anna Kendrick: I got this image of Edgar when I was first cast. He was really excited about the idea of putting Chris Evans in [the film] because he just liked the idea of getting young Hollywood and pitting them against each other in battle. So I got this image of him as the evil puppet master just choosing all of these young actors and saying, 'Fight to the death it will amuse me.' The comic was used as a storyboard and reference on set, so much so that fans of the books will recognize certain panels Wright chose to imitate. Even his actors are still amazed at the extent of his familiarity with the source material and how it inspired him to match dialogue with pre-planned choreography. Michael Cera: Edgar had been thinking about the movie for three years and writing it and storyboarding it and making it really tight. There were some sequences where the joke of the scene is how the thoughts cut together. They're shot a very specific way. It's not like running a scene and knowing exactly what we're doing. JS: Usually when you make a movie you do a complete take of a scene from every different angle but in this one Edgar already knew which angles... AK: ...It was like pre-edited. JS: Yeah, so he'd be like were going to shoot this scene so all you need to do is turn and say that one line then we'll cut. This was like mega-super-hyper focused because you're just doing a shot at time just getting the thing you need. I know I wish in the future, if I ever work again, that whatever that may be they would do a comic of it first. But Wright didn't shy away from getting down and dirty with his cast. Cera elaborates... MC: Yeah, we did and Edgar joined us too. Every morning waking up and running and doing push ups, all sorts of disgusting stuff. EW: Except often you get to train in the morning with Superman and Captain America as well, putting us to shame. RELATED >> "Anyone who tells you differently is racist, really": Q&A with Michael Cera
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Featuring everything from event roundups to concert reviews and sex talk, City Paper's Critical Mass is a space for off-the-wall coverage of Philly's A&E scene.

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