Part of the reason I didn’t go too deeply into information presented at the Q&As at Ebertfest is the fact that all of the Q&As were streamed live and recorded. You, too, can enjoy them! True, you don’t get the $1.50 move snacks or the ambiance of the beautiful Virginia Theatre, but you also don’t have to move from your computer. Click here to have your own Ebertfest experience. You will be ported to YouTube where the Charlie Kaufman and The Wall Q&As have already been posted. There is more to come.

The final day of Ebertfest consisted on one film, Song Sung Blue, which is a documentary about Neil Diamond cover duo Lightning & Thunder. Even if you aren’t the slightest bit interested in Neil Diamond, you should find this film and see it. The film is, at its core, a painstakingly rendered love story, starring a pair of Milwaukee musicians who struggled to live their dream. I recommend seeing the film without knowing much about Lightning & Thunder, as the story does take some truly astonishing turns.

The film itself is remarkable in the fact that the footage is incredibly candid. Director Greg Kohs and his team not only camped out in Lightning & Thunder’s home for long enough to catch the family in their darkest moments, they also discovered scores of videotapes in the home, where both sides of this married couple documented the most stressful points of their lives. The fact that the family allowed this frank footage to be tied together in a feature documentary is amazing.

The result is a deeply touching tale about ordinary people struggling to be extraordinary. I hesitate to say more, as I found experiencing the film without knowing anything at the start was a supremely satisfying experience.

After the film, Thunder herself graced the stage of the Virginia Theatre with renditions of Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” and ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”, the latter of which got the whole balcony dancing. (In the photo above, you can see Chaz and Roger Ebert watching Thunder from the wings.) It was a great feel-good close to the film festival.

L to R: Greg Kohs, Chaz Ebert, Thunder (aka Claire Sardina), Roger Ebert

After her songs, there was a good hour’s worth of Q&A from both Thunder and Greg Kohs, moderated by Steve Prokopy (aka Capone from Ain’t It Cool News). During the Q&A, Prokopy had a bit of a fan moment, when he showed Thunder that he still had the ticket from Summerfest where he saw Lightning & Thunder perform with Eddie Vedder. She happily autographed it for him.

After the close of the film festival, I was treated to a few fun moments at the theater while I waited for my ride to show. Not only did I meet Thunder, but I also ran into Vincent Falk, who I talked about in my previous post. I even wound up trading coats with Vincent, if only for a moment. How cool is that?

Click the thumbnails below to see these images and descriptions on Flickr.

And that, my friends, was my Ebertfest experience. Many thanks to Steve Prokopy, who kindly let me hang out with him in the balcony for a while on the last couple days. (It was great to see another Butt-Numb-a-Thoner outside Austin, TX!)

Also great big truckloads of thanks to Tom Rogers, who provided my crash space in Urbana, IL. If it weren’t for him, this trip would not have been possible at all. He was a fantastic guide to the Chambana area, too. I owe him many martinis.

Sorry it took me a couple days to get these last posts done about Ebertfest. The drive home on Sunday night wiped me out, and I’m only home three days before my next event (Penguicon).

Day 4 of Ebertfest for me started very slowly. Those gin & Squirts from the night before were the devil. Thus, I opted for breakfast over the first film of the day, I Capture the Castle. I generally don’t care much for Austenesque British drawing room dramas, planned guest Bill Nighy wasn’t there thanks to the volcano, and, well, I really needed breakfast. Thus, my friend Tom and I headed into Urbana and thoroughly enjoyed The Courier Cafe.

Sadly, I also have never seen the film before, so I can’t even make comments about it. I will try to see it within the next few weeks, so I can at least say I’ve seen all the films that played at Ebertfest this year.

I did make it back to the Virginia Theatre for Vincent: A Life in Color, which was the first of two new documentaries that played at this year’s Ebertfest.

Vincent: A Life in Color is about Vincent P. Falk, who is a bit hard to describe. If you’ve ever been in downtown Chicago and have seen a man wearing a blindingly bright-colored suit waving at the tour boats from the Michigan Avenue Bridge, you’ve seen Vincent. That’s what he does. He dresses in bright suits and waves his jacket at tour boats.

There is, of course, much more to Vincent than that. The documentary is downright fascinating. In fact, if you live in and/or love the city of Chicago, I’d say that Vincent: A Life in Color is required viewing, as the film is as much a love letter to Chicago as it is an analysis of a strange man who waves at people.

The film itself is very straightforward and simple, as it wisely lets its quirky subject take center stage. The film lets the information unfold like a mystery, so you get the sense that you continue to delve throughout the running time, and each morsel of information you find is a joy. There aren’t any big dark secrets here. This is a movie about how one man lives joyfully. It’s a feel-good movie.

I’d very much like to have a double-feature, pairing this film with Man on Wire. Both are about men who celebrate cities. Both men are colorful, odd, and perhaps slightly crazy. Both films are about joy. (Aside: if you haven’t yet seen Man on Wire, do it as soon as you can. It’s one of the best movies ever made. Note I said “movie”, not “documentary”. Yes, it is that good.)

After the showing of Vincent: A Life in Color, Vincent himself came on stage in an orange suit that could probably be seen from space. We got his trademark dance, and then a Q&A. Jennifer Burns, director of the documentary, joined him for the panel. It soon became clear that Vincent: A Life in Color was a labor of love, which is something you sense with every frame of the film. Jennifer Burns funded the film entirely on her own credit cards. It was perhaps not wise in a monetary sense, but at the end of it all, she has made a fine film.

Above: Vincent Falk and Jennifer Burns at Ebertfest. Vincent is the one in orange, Jennifer is in green.

The next film on the schedule was a movie that has sadly yet to see proper distribution: Trucker. It’s a movie with a plot we all know from 1970′s low-budget working class dramas: loner adult gets saddled with the responsibilities of being a parent, and learns as much from the child as the child learns from them. However, there are several things about Trucker that make it more than worthwhile:

• James Mottern’s earthy script
• Gender swap of the main character (the loner is a woman here)
• Nathan Fillion’s natural charm
• Michelle Monaghan’s Oscar-level performance

Yes, the film is a showcase for the talents of Michelle Monaghan, who delivers a performance that should have garnered much more attention. Roger Ebert himself declared her work Oscar-worthy here, and I have to agree. Monaghan’s characterization work here feels like it’s the most natural thing in the world to her to play, yet it’s a role that is demanding in its transparency.

You’ll need to don your Lifetime Channel armor before watching this film, but you’ll be happy that you did.

The Q&A after the film featured both writer/director James Mottern (center right) and Michelle Monaghan (far right). They answered questions for a good hour or so, about everything from the charm of Nathan Fillion (“Watching him is like watching a country song.”) to Monaghan’s boots (borrowed from a Grand Canyon tour guide) to Monaghan’s inspiration for the role (wild Mustangs) to learning how to drive an 18-wheeler truck (yes, Monaghan got her Class C license as preparation for the film). Mottern and Monaghan were both so likable as people that I got the sense that the audience would have talked to them all night if they could.

The final film of the night was a film that was very nearly forgotten after the 1980′s: Barfly. This is sad, as it has a quirky charm that is hard to deny.

Barfly is a semi-autobiography, written by and about American poet Charles Bukowski. It isn’t a standard biopic, however. It covers only a few weeks of time, in which Bukowski met the love of his life, Jane Cooney Baker. The account is fictionalized, as evidenced by the fact that the characters don’t share their names with Bukowski or Baker, but the characters are so odd that they couldn’t come from anywhere except real life.

It takes a little while to get into Barfly. For the first few scenes, it looks like a random 1980′s trash drama, with overreaching performances and arch dialogue. However, after the characters develop a bit, Barfly turns into a real gem. Bukowski’s script, of course, reads like one of his stories: even though it seems at a glance to be bogged down in the grime of life, it often breaks open to reveal deep, elegant insights. It’s beautiful stuff.

However, Barfly would be nothing without its two leads, Mickey Rourke and Faye Dunaway. They both deliver larger-than-life performances, about two people who drink as a major part of their identities. You eventually get the sense that these are the only two actors big enough to fill the characters in Bukowski’s script.

The whole thing is reigned in by Barbet Schroeder, a great director who is often not remembered on lists of great directors. In watching Barfly, you marvel a bit that it doesn’t spin apart at the seams, but it works thanks to Schroeder’s deft hand.

Barfly has long been out-of-print on VHS and DVD, which made the Ebertfest showing that much more impressive. However, I am told that you can rent the film as a streaming video from Amazon.com, so if you want to see it, you are not entirely out of luck.

The Q&A after the film was wonderful. Barbet Schroeder (far left) told dozens of stories about making the film with Bukowski, many of which are touched upon in IMDB’s trivia section about Barfly. The best tale, of course, was the about how Schroeder convinced Cannon Films to put the movie on their production list. Schroeder injected his finger with novocaine, walked into the Cannon offices with a power saw, and threatened to cut off his finger until the producers said yes.

I think that story alone was worth the drive to Champaign, IL.

I have less than an hour to write this update, so I shall be quick about it. Today’s films start at 11 AM, and I still need to get to the theater.

The first film up on Friday was a Japanese film called Departures, perhaps better known to westerners as the film that Japan entered for Best Foreign Film candidacy for the 2009 Academy Awards. In Japan, I am told that movies like this are called “wet” movies, and after watching it, I know why. I tend not to seek out sentimental films, as they generally fall outside my interest zone and leave me cold. This one, however, rightfully had me weeping like a five-year-old with a skinned knee, and yet didn’t insult my intelligence by going for the cheap emotional hits.

Departures is a gorgeously-shot, charming, unabashedly sentimental film about a Japanese cellist who has to take a job as a mortician. Apparently, this is a job that is seen as “unclean” in Japan, so this poor guy winds up hiding his real profession from his wife, even though he soon learns that it is a vitally important career, one that he grows to love and even appreciate as an art form.

It’s a beautiful film, so beautiful that the rich images and carefully honed sounds alone will probably make you grab for the Kleenex. But it’s the characters and performances that really bring life into this movie. Every once in a while, you see a movie that is about good people trying to be good to each other, and it makes you feel good, too. This is one of those.

After the film, director Yojiro Takata went up to the stage for a Q&A, speaking to our audience through a translator. The most insightful thing he said was that he chose a cello as the musician’s instrument because it sounds most like a human voice, and because the motion of playing the cello mirrors many of the motions of the Japanese casketing ritual. That’s the sort of movie we are taking about here: very human, very rich, very beautiful.

The next film up was this year’s silent movie: Dziga Vertov’s Man with a Movie Camera, accompanied live by the Alloy Orchestra.

I have seen a lot of cool things on the silver screen in my life. One of my favorite film experiences of my life was seeing Buster Keaton’s The General accompanied by a Dixieland band, while Peter Jackson sat behind me.

Was seeing Man with a Movie Camera accompanied by Alloy Orchestra cooler than that? Very nearly. It was jaw-dropping. The Alloy Orchestra has apparently been performing this particular film for ten years; if you ever get the chance to see them score it live, you should run, not walk, to get tickets. Sell limbs if you have to.

I’d seen Man with a Movie Camera before, back in the fog of time when I was a film student at the University of Minnesota. I hadn’t seen it since, but I’ve always loved it. The film is a movie about making movies, only it’s a stretch to call it a documentary. Essentially, the film is 68 minutes of a man running around Moscow with a movie camera, taking random shots of life and editing them together. The film doesn’t tell a story as much as it leaves a visual and rhythmic impression of Soviet life in 1929. The images themselves are highly experimental: double exposures, early split screen, cameras (and their operators) strapped to cars and underneath trains, freeze frames. We see film of the editor, cutting the film itself together; we see the camera itself, dwarfing the city in a trick shot that involved double exposure and mirrored screens.

The film itself is cool as hell. But the score provided by Alloy Orchestra made the experience the sort of thing that makes you want to leap to your feet and be alive. Alloy’s score is heavily percussive, at turns modern and classic, lyrical and cacophonous. It matches the film perfectly.

You can buy a DVD of the film with Alloy’s score at their web site. I will be buying a copy, certainly. You should, too. However, the real treat is to see them perform the film live. See it if you can.

(Also, I hear that they are RIGHT NOW flying to the Turner Classic Movies festival, to score the new complete cut of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. If you can, go. GO NOW. I’ll envy you forever.)

The last film of the night was Charlie Kaufman’s Synecdoche, New York, a movie that Roger Ebert has deemed “the film of the decade.” Charlie Kaufman himself was there to introduce and talk about the film. The theater sold out completely.

Guess what? I didn’t go.

I’ve seen Synecdoche, New York before. While I don’t agree that it’s the film of the decade, I do agree that it is one of the densest pieces of cinematic art I’ve ever seen. It’s the sort of film that people can write their doctoral thesis upon. There are parts of the film that blew my mind enough that my jaw literally dropped open in the theater. Other parts of the film leave me cold; those parts make art feel dead and humorless, and the characters are the types of characters I want to strangle.

Synecdoche, New York is the sort of movie that splits audiences down the middle. I know people who loathe the film. I know people who love it. I can see reasoning for both. My highest praise for the film is this: you should see it. You might not like it, but it will make you think and digest. The movie is not a waste of time, even if you hate it. As art that makes your brain chew, it is highly successful.

I would like to see the film again, and I would have loved to see Kaufman talk about his work. But it boils down to this: I’ve been sitting in a theater for three days. I’d hardly gotten a chance to see Champagne/Urbana. I’d hardly gotten a chance to hang out with my friend Tom, who is graciously providing me with crash space during the festival. As much as I love film, it doesn’t supplant real life.

The fact that I opted instead to go drink a heinous thing called a “gin & Squirt” at the local dive bar isn’t a condemnation of Synecdoche, New York. It was simply my way of reminding myself that even simple, ordinary life is grander than even the wildest things that can be put on a screen. Plus, the fact that I gave up my seat meant that someone else, who perhaps hadn’t seen the film before, got to see it.

So, in short: see the Synecdoche, New York, and don’t mix Squirt with gin. Seriously. It tastes like a chemical factory had a car accident with a spruce tree.

Good morning, world! Melissa here, ready to report on Ebertfest’s Thursday lineup.

First, I’ll tackle something I said yesterday, in which I said “more on that later” but never followed up. Sorry for the tease. I ran out of time at the coffee shop and forgot to return to the subject.

Basically, I’m sad to report that, due to the eruption of Eyjafjallajokull in Iceland which has canceled most flights from Europe, Ebertfest is not enjoying visits from many of the filmmakers promised in the festival materials. So far, Jessica Lundberg, Johan Carlsson, Bill Nighy, and Walter Murch (whose planned appearance was the main reason I drove here in the first place) were/are all unable to be here to talk about their work. Unfortunately, this means that the Q&A sessions after the films have mostly consisted of critics talking about the movies, instead of the actual creators talking about their movies. Sadly, for me, this means that I’ve become mostly uninterested in the Q&A sessions. I can get critique and trivia from IMDB.com; what I can’t get just anywhere is actual discussion with the people who actually make this stuff.

Of course, Ebertfest can’t control volcanic activity in Iceland. It’s just an unfortunate turn of events. Still, with all the projection equipment and the availability of Skype, you’d think someone would have rigged up a live webcam chat with the folks who have had to cancel.

Thursday’s lineup started at noon with a film named Munyurangabo, which I have yet to learn to spell without looking it up. I am determined to learn how to spell it, however, as I expect to be recommending it a lot to other people. It is my favorite “new to me” film of the festival so far, which is impressive, as You, the Living gave it a good run for its money.

The plot of Munyurangabo is one we all know, but the film tells it in such a way that you don’t really piece together which plot you are watching until the end of the film. The film is hauntingly simple, completely unafraid to linger on quiet moments. As such, I am reluctant to say more about the plot of the movie, except for the fact that it is set in current-day Rwanda, and it stars two teenaged boys. No, it’s not about the Rwandan genocide of 1994, but it is about the youth who grew up in its aftermath.

After the film, Lee Isaac Chung (director), Sam Anderson (writer/producer), and Jenny Lund (sound/producer) held a Q&A, which is where most of us in the audience heard a story as fascinating as the one told in the film.

A few years ago, Mr. Chung, a South Korean/American man, decided to start teaching film in Rwanda. He felt that, in order to do this, he should first make a film. Munyurangabo was filmed in 11 days. The script was a plot outline; the dialogue was mostly improvised by the actors. As such, it is the first dramatic feature ever to be in Kinyarwanda.

I love that we now live in a world where a film like Munyurangabo can get made like that: 11 days with a handheld camera and improvised lines. It really can work, people. Get out there and make movies.

The next film in the lineup was The New Age, which was as different from Munyurangabo as you can get. Peter Weller and Judy Davis (who were also co-stars in Naked Lunch three years prior) star as two halves of a disconnected marriage. Both are unhappy, self-absorbed, morally bankrupt, culturally bankrupt, and monetarily bankrupt. In a last-ditch effort to save their rich LA lifestyle/rich LA home/rich LA marriage, they open a high-end clothing store named Hipocracy.

The film was made in 1994 by writer/director Michael Tolkin (who was one of the other filmmakers who escaped the wrath of the volcano and actually made it to Ebertfest). Tolkin is also the man who wrote Robert Altman’s The Player, which shares the same sort of personally-blanched early-1990′s LA characters. He writes these types of characters extremely well; you may not like them, but you at least know how they tick. Even though you might not want to admit it, there really are people like this in the world, and yes, they are people like you and me. In fact, The New Age rather impressively explains the rise of new age culture amongst the LA set, better than almost any other analysis I’ve ever seen.

The timing of this film at Ebertfest was also impressive. In 1994, the United States was in a financial crisis much like the one we have now in 2010. Within the first five minutes, Judy Davis’ character launches into a impassioned rant about collapsing banks and shopping malls that had the audience in the theater cheering. It also served as a fascinating counterpoint to Munyurangabo: the Rwandan genocide started on April 9, 1994. The New Age is what people in LA were doing as Rwanda ate itself. Even though that LA culture horrifies me anyway, pairing such characters against what was actually happening in the world turned the contrast dial to the maximum.

Beyond that, I have a tough time succinctly articulating how I feel ab0ut The New Age. It’s an extraordinarily well-written film. The characters behave in ways that you don’t expect, but you do understand. The ending, in particular, fascinated me. However, as much as I like the film as a cineast, I don’t enjoy the film. I felt much the same about The Player, which is achingly smart, and yet it leaves me not just cold, but clammy. I feel much the same about Wes Anderson movies. I suspect it’s because all these films are about a class of people I have never really understood, and the cultural/emotional vacancy that goes along with that crowd truly bothers me.

But that’s just me. Your mileage will likely vary. The LA crowd are people, too, and they deserve art that reflects their view of the world.

I will close with a comment from Michael Tolkin himself, which he made after watching the film with us: “It’s much more personal than I remember. There are things in there that are basically letters to me.”

The final film of the night was the “redux” print of Apocalypse Now. This film was made when I was four years old. I think I first watched it when I was 11. I know nearly every line by now. I never remember to include it in “my favorite movies” lists, but it is a movie that I have a long relationship with.

I won’t discuss the film itself much here, as most people have seen it, and the world has had over 30 years to talk about it. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it. It’s one of the best war films ever made, and you will suddenly find yourself understanding more Animaniacs jokes.

The Redux version of Apocalypse Now is around 50 minutes longer than the theatrical cut. I still haven’t decided if I like the re-edit more than the original. It certainly works. Unlike many “director’s cuts”, the extra material doesn’t throw off the pacing of the film here. However, I’m still not sure that the inclusion of a long scene at a French plantation really adds much to the experience aside from length.

I do, however, love the Redux version on one front: the restoration of the film is amazing. The print I saw last night, struck in 2000, was pristine. I’ve never seen Apocalypse Now look so good. The colors were lush, and the blacks were black. It made digital projection look embarrassing. And the remix of the sound was nothing short of spectactular. I’m not sure if I’ve ever had a more satisfying aural experience in a movie theater. There were many times I just closed my eyes and listened to the film.

Plus, overall, there is nothing like seeing Apocalypse Now in a theater. It’s a feast for the senses, on the scale equivalent to eating three Thanksgiving dinners in a row. After seeing the film on the big screen, all you want to do is crawl off and rest.

In fact, that’s exactly what I did after the film. I didn’t stick around for the Q&A. I was wrung out like a dishrag. Maybe it’s good that Walter Murch didn’t show up, as I don’t know if I would have had the fortitude to stay around for his discussion.

Today is a rainy, hazy day here in Chambana: perfect for going to the movies. Catch you later!

Hi, all! Melissa here. At this very moment, I’m ensconced in a coffee shop in Champaign, IL, with free wi-fi and a half hour of spare time. I figured I’d give everyone a very brief update on Ebertfest.

Ebertfest is a five-day film festival, hosted by film critic of Roger Ebert. (Yes, that’s the same Roger Ebert from At the Movies. Yes, it’s the same guy who recently declared that video games could never be art. I’m wearing a Legend of Zelda jacket to the film festival today, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.) The festival takes place in his collegiate hometown of Champaign, at a gorgeous art deco building called The Virginia Theatre. It consists of 13 films; most are recent overlooked films or older classics. There is usually one 70mm print placed on the screen, and there is usually one silent film scored by live musicians. This year’s Ebertfest includes such things as Apocalypse Now Redux (a title that always makes my inner chemist wince, but my inner cineast leap for joy), Dziga Vertov’s amazing Man With a Movie Camera, and Song Sung Blue.

I’ve never been to Ebertfest before, but the combined efforts of The Virginia Theatre, My Faithful Native Guide Mirko, and a complete and total stranger named Barbara landed me both free lodging and a pass to the festival (which have been sold out since early January). Thus, yesterday I made the nine-hour drive from Minneapolis to Champaign, through the beautiful sunlit rolling fields of the central United States. After Mirko treated me to beers at a place called The Blind Pig, and we found sustenance at a place called Cowboy Monkey (best. restaurant. name. ever.), I was released into the theater.

I managed to score a seat in the front row of the balcony. I sadly had a corner of plexiglass in my line of sight toward the screen, but with a seat like that, I couldn’t complain much.

Chaz Ebert, Roger’s charming and gregarious wife, opened the festival with a short introduction. She was followed by a woman from the Illinois Film Board, whose name I utterly failed to write down. (Sadly, the Ebertfest materials, combined with the Icelandic volcanic eruption, has made it difficult for me to track who was talking live. More on that later.) Then Illinois governor Pat Quinn came onstage with Roger Ebert himself. After a very lengthy and glowing speech from Gov. Quinn, April 21st was declared “Ebertfest Day”. Speeches and applause all around.

Roger himself got up to the podium for a speech and looked quite spry, which is remarkable for a man whose jaw has been taken away by thyroid cancer. Roger manages to speak to audiences these days through his Apple laptop, which was always nearby when he was on stage. The computer voice sounds a bit Stephen Hawking-ish, but really, Apple’s text-to-speech software has come a long way since I first toyed with around 15 years ago. The robotic nature of the computerized voice was softened by the fact that Roger would humorously gesture along with it, once he set it rolling.

(Is it wrong of me to want to see him debate Hawking on something? Just once?)

The first item of the festival was a short film called “Stand By Me”. Do yourself a favor and watch it right now:

This was followed by a 35mm print of Pink Floyd The Wall, which always makes me wonder why anyone in their right mind would get stoned before watching this film. I’d never seen it in a theater before, though, so last night’s viewing was a cinematic joy (of sorts… The Wall evokes a lot of emotion for most folks, but “joy” usually isn’t in the mix). My one lament is that the print was not the 70mm print promised by the festival materials. However, the 70mm print apparently came in from Britain, but failed inspection by the festival runners. (In the words of one of the festival organizers, the print was, “Pink. Very pink. Too pink.” Funny in this context, yes, but it’s sad that the only 70mm print of The Wall in existence has deteriorated that much.) Thankfully, Warner Brothers provided a 35mm print at the last minute, or else we wouldn’t have seen the film at all.

Much has been said about The Wall since 1982, and I doubt I could shed much more light on it here, especially since my half hour is mostly up. A panel of international film critics discussed the film for around an hour after the showing, and mostly determined that the film was about the parallels between fascism and rock & roll, the isolation of self, and the life of Roger Waters.

The most interesting observation of the night came from Tom Dark, the one critic on stage who hadn’t seen the film before that night. He theorized that rock & roll prevented World War III, by venting the anger and frustration of youth.

Well, how do you follow The Wall? With a Swedish comedy about isolation, of course.

I’m talking about a film called You, the Living, which came out a couple years ago, and which I saw for the first time last night. My first post on Twitter about the film said: “You, the Living is a movie I can’t really describe. I can at least describe The Wall. Consider that.” I did enjoy the film immensely. There are portions of the film that I found howlingly funny, and individual scenes are genuine works of art. But I don’t have the words to describe it.

Thankfully, a hastily-assembled panel of critics discussed the film at length at midnight, and they provided me with the right words. I lament that I don’t have any of their names at hand (if I can figure out who they were today, I’ll post a correction). One critic described it as, “an Alfred Hitchcock plot as written by Samuel Beckett.” Another said it was “like The Far Side crossed with Ingmar Bergman.” A third noted that it was “like being stuck in the ugliest IKEA ever.” All three descriptions are apt, and yet they fail to embrace the sheer oddity of You, the Living.

I guess my description of it, as flawed as it is, is that the film is a string of 50 or so absurdist vignettes about disconnected people. One of the critics noted that the film was more like installation art than a movie, which is something I was mulling over before he said it. The movie sets up static spaces, and deadpan things happen in the spaces.

Anyway, if you have an off-kilter sense of humor, I highly recommend You, the Living. You can test his humor yourself by viewing this playlist of his commercial work on YouTube. If you laugh yourself silly by watching these, you know what to do next.

Anyway, that closed out the night, and I am now about 10 minutes behind schedule. I have to get back to the theater for today’s noon showing of Munyurangabo. Catch you tomorrow!

Over a week and no Geek Bytes. For that I must apologize and offer a bit of an explanation for the past week.

I run a software development shop for a marketing company. We got dropped a very short deadline that has tied up almost all of my attention for the past few weeks. Then I got sick. Then I got better. Then I got tired from not sleeping properly.

Now to top it off my desktop computer has decided to emulate a caffeinated hyperactive two-year-old in a permanent tantrum. The MacBook Pro I use to research and record the podcasts got conscripted into serving as a development environment for testing web services.

So I’m sitting here on Sunday with a borrowed computer that doesn’t have my web links, rss feeds, or audio tools. And, of course, time. It takes a surprisingly long time to research, write up, record, edit and post 10 minutes of audio, even if most of it is just me droning on. Geek Bytes is both a hobby and test for me, to see if I could keep up with a twice a week short cast to summarize news and new releases now that The Geek Life weekly is devoted to fewer stories in more depth. Clearly, I failed the test.

Today I’m working on recovering my data from my backup discs, in preparation for a replacement for the desktop computer that should arrive sometime this coming week. I also have a deadline at the end of the week that may take up most of my time.

I don’t want to give up Geek Bytes or The Geek Life, but I don’t want to do a half-a**ed job of it either. Would the material of Geek Bytes work better in blog postings? I don’t know, but I’m willing to try it.

What I’d really like to hear is what you think. Please write to us at talkback@thegeeklife.tv or comment here. What could we do to make this more interesting or useful to you?

In the mean time, thanks for listening, and we’ll record again on Tuesday.

More iPad news, natch Valve makes Mac gamers very happy Microsoft does games integration like nobody else Microsoft Courier vaporware continues Ubisoft’s DRM PR nightmare Is Internet access a fundamental right?

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Alice in Wonderland and Miyazaki Madness in video More magazines coming to iPad No upgrades to Windows Phone 7 Series Google and Microsoft fling mud at each other Newspapers are dead, they just haven’t fallen down yet. Apple “admits” to child labor, but not what the headlines imply.

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Apple gets lots of good news for Steve Job’s 55th birthday Yahoo gets into the Twitter game EU says Google is next, mystery hacker says Intel next The rickroll may finally be no more. Subversion for Photoshop.

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