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With the Independent Film Festival in full swing, Bostonist is taking full advantage of the 90-plus movies on tap this week, and all just to let you know what to give a "yay," "nay," or "I never want to hear of this movie again." Thankfully, this year's festival has proven to be a solid collection of flicks, though unfortunately they're not all winners. Here's a sampling of what Bostonist saw last night.
Trust Us, This Is All Made Up:
More of a "concert film" for the improv than a formal documentary, Trust Us, This Is All Made Up may find its most rewarding views in the eyes of folks who question the spontaneous nature of this particular genre of comedy performance. With Trust Us, director Alex Karpovsky really allows his subjects—improv comedians T.J. Jagodowski and Dave Pasquesi—to control their time on screen as most of the film's 83 minutes are taken up by a performance the duo put on in New York City. However, it's Karpovsky who has full range over the documentary, and his careful editing manages to capture the subtle pause in Pasquesi's dialogue, the hint of confusion in Jagodoski's eyes, and any number of idiosyncratic body movements that are telltale signs that the performance by the comedians truly is made up on the spot.
Trust Us, This Is All Made Up promotional poster
However, beyond the performance, there isn't a lot to work with. Karpovsky opens and closes the film with shots of the performers involved in mundane activities, inter-spliced with commentary on the craft and chemistry involved in performing improv comedy. Though the brief history of Pasquesi's roots in the Chicago comedy scene is informative, and the post-performance shots of the duo talking shop offers a window into the world of improv most individuals would never normally experience, the documentary seems to be lacking in, well, something to document. Though Karpovsky's use of focus, framing, and tone add a bit of depth to the pre-and-post performance scenes, with so little being said outside of "our performances are always different" and only bits and pieces of these individuals' lives being put on display, one might want to check out a live improv show first and return to Trust Us if they can't fathom improv to truly be constructed in the moment.
Stingray Sam:
So a man in an all-black cowboy suit walks into a bar on Mars and begins to perform a lounge act, only to bump into an old friend who takes him across the galaxy in a quasi-musical adventure set in six episodes and sponsored by Liberty Tobacco Chewing Gum. Oh, and David Hyde Pierce narrates the entire thing.
No, this isn't a joke. Or maybe it is. It's certainly funny, in an odd, campy, self-aware kind of way. Stingray Sam is baaaaaad, but in the good way. It's the type of bad that's fueled by 1940s images of science fiction, Ed Wood's oeuvre, and a child-like imagination transformed into big-world ideas and slapped onto a script.
For folks who dig cult films, this was a movie that already had a spot reserved for your Netflix cue. But for the rest of the curious movie-going public? Well, perhaps Stingray Sam would be best to stumble upon online. With its marked breaks in narrative for each episode—opening and closing credits included—and with each 10-minute-ish story complete with its own song created by director Cory McAbee's band, American Astronaut, Stingray Sam seems destined for online fame and glory. Whether or not it succeeds in cinema is another question entirely.
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