Some of the most finely crafted and original movies being made won't be screening at the local cineplex. They're being shown at film festivals.
Among them is "This is Not a War Story," directed, produced and co-written by Talia Lugacy. As one of four members from the Alliance of Women Film Journalists tasked with determining the winner of AWFJ's EDA award for best female-directed feature, I saw this film, along with three others, in advance of Tallgrass Film Festival's 19th edition held Oct. 20-24 in Wichita, Kan.
Tallgrass, founded in 2003, identifies itself as stubbornly independent; women in film are high priority on the festival's agenda.
Being a juror is a joy for a film critic; four of us were assigned to rank a lineup of productions in order of preference and write a blurb on each of them (not a full review, which is much more challenging). If you run across any of them on streaming services or elsewhere, give them a try.
"This is Not a War Story," a provocative drama based on the effects of often brutalizing military service on veterans, produced this response from me, a version of which was included with the festival's announcement of winners:
Devastating without being sensational, brutal without being violent, and compelling without being insistent, Talia Lugacy's quietly insistent drama exposes the trauma that can compel military veterans to take their own lives. Using a centerpiece of a ramshackle urban studio where veterans-turned-artists make handmade paper out of military uniforms on which they express their heaving emotions, the film flows like a slow-moving stream of natural dialogue paralleled with memories and experiences that have the capacity to destroy many who have run out of options to cope. The best way to express the torrent of reactions this film generates is to say that whatever project Talia Lugacy takes on next, don't miss it.
My second choice is "We Burn Like This," directed by Alana Waksman:
Being Jewish in Billings, Montana, a state that attracts neo-Nazis and white supremacists, is the theme of this handsome, well-cast drama. After heading off in various directions, the plot settles in on Rae, a feckless 22-year-old Jewish woman--a descendant of Holocaust survivors--who lacks the determination to sort out who she is and where she's going. After introducing an array of characters who veer in and out of her existence, the film presents a tighter focus on Rae's situation, borne out of an unenviable family history, a childhood accident, and a cycle of substance abuse. It's poignant, but doesn't leave a lasting impression, other than the fine performances of every woman in the cast.
A third notable contender is "Moon Manor," written, edited, produced and co-directed (with Erin Granat) by Machete Bang Bang:
"If I can't be me, I just don't want to be," says Jimmy (James Carrozo, based on events in his zany life), the focus of this sweet, affecting comedy/drama that suggests death needn't be dreaded. Although he's been HIV positive for 35 years, that's not what's provoking Jimmy to stop living; it's the onset of Alzheimer's. So he organizes a "Fun-eral," attended by friends, to celebrate his life on the eve of its ending. The sincerity and high spirits of Jimmy's cohort encourage the acceptance of his decision to stage a responsible death.
Last but not least: "I'm Fine, Thanks for Asking," directed and co-written (along with Roma Kong) by Kelley Kali and Angelique Molina.
Unlike most films set in Los Angeles, this personality-powered drama takes place in a far more working-class neighborhood, where marginally employed young widow Danny and her 8-year-old daughter Wes find themselves staying in a tent on the edge of town. It's a story that demonstrates that those with good intentions are still capable of making bad decisions, in this case one after the other. The desperation of Danny to stabilize her life is mixed with her selfish indulgence in having a good time, even when those good times are inappropriate.
Next on my jury lineup: Ranking four films for the EDA Award for best female-directed documentaries at Whistler Film Festival, going on virtually through Dec. 5 in Whistler, B.C., Canada, with an online program extending to Dec. 31.
Top of the lineup: "Savvy," directed by Robin Hauser.
A documentary that's entertaining, informative, funny, self-deprecating, and populated with believable and appealing personalities couldn't possibly be about financial literacy, could it? Hard to believe, but that's the description of "Savvy," which takes on a detailed, complex topic and makes it accessible, educational, and memorable. Women are especially vulnerable to money troubles, as they often abdicate financial management in their families to men; this film never condescends or lectures while outlining steps to achieving and maintaining solvency, along with offering practical ways to minimize college debt, or deal with death of a spouse, divorce, and much more. By using strong visuals, colorful animation, and informed experts, this film has the potential to change the lives of many who get over thinking it's going to be pedantic and dull. It's anything but.
Along with "Savvy," I viewed these docs on a wildly diverse range of topics:
"A Wicked Eden" directed by Naddine Madell, is a masterfully photographed, sometimes unsettling yet enlightening investigation of female sex workers who specialize in creating underground "FemDom" cyber-dominatrix pornography online for fetishist customers. Not for everyone, but it's hard to look away.
"The Secret Society," directed by Rebecca Campbell, is a factual investigation, overlaid with emotion and empathy, that investigates the effects of an Canadian law that won't allow women who donate eggs to intended mothers (mostly women in their 40s) to be compensated. The filmmakers posit that criminalizing such donations creates an underground economy, a gray market with no protection for anyone.
The U.S. has no such restriction, which makes it a go-to destination for families desiring a child, many who have undergone miscarriages, adoption attempts, and failed bouts of in-vitro fertilization.
Moral and ethical questions are faced head-on here, such as deciding if the donor's identity should be closed or revealed, figuring out who qualifies to be considered extended family, and overcoming the secrecy necessary to stay under the law's radar.
"Poly Styrene: I Am Cliche," is directed by Celeste Bell, the daughter of the eponymous and electrically idiosyncratic singer of 1970s-era British punk band X-Ray Spex, and makes skillful use of archival footage and excerpts from her mother's diaries.
Years ago, I got booted from jury duty in Little Rock after complaining about having incarcerated relatives. Film festival juries have no such restrictions, and are much more fun.