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Awards Daily

The Oscars, the Academy Awards and everything in between.

Cannes review: Fruitvale Station reveals an atrocity of American injustice

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on Thu, May 16, 2013 | By Sasha Stone

How do you measure the importance of a life? Do you look at a man’s contributions to society, his success, his wealth, his prominence in the community? Are some lives worth more than others? Up-and-coming filmmaker Ryan Coogler addresses that question, showing both the troubled side of 22-year-old Oscar Grant, who was accidentally shot on a subway platform in 2009 while being subdued by police, and the more hopeful side, a man committed to raising his daughter and living a cleaner life.

Whatever Oscar Grant’s troubles may have been — whether he’d been convicted of felonies for drug dealing, whether he’d been previously tased by police, whether or not he went to college — none of that should have mattered when measuring the value of his life. He was someone’s son, father, boyfriend, friend. Oscar Grant, by all accounts, was a good guy trying to make his way in a world that thought it already had him figured out before he even had a chance to show who he was. Black kid from Oakland? Drugs? You know the score.

The beauty of Fruitvale Station is that it shows what life is like on the other side of the tracks when the police break up a fight between black kids and what they might have done if kids doing exactly the same thing had been white. Fruitvale Station shows what can happen when cops have already made up their minds about you before they even know who you are. Most of White America has no idea what it’s like to grow up like that, to be presumed guilty of a string of crimes before you’ve even committed them. Why else would the cops have reacted in such an extreme manner? Handcuffed, thrown to the ground, never given a chance to explain.

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Cannes Diary Day One – The Searchers

on Thu, May 16, 2013 | By Sasha Stone

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There is construction going on all over Cannes. They are building a new train station at the bottom of the hill. I know because I usually stay up that way and use the train station, and the tunnel underneath it, to find my way. The tunnel smells like urine mixed with cigarettes. This was my fourth year to Cannes and I was planning to show my expertise to my friend Craig Kennedy from Living in Cinema who was coming along for his first ever Cannes Film Festival. We’ll take the shuttle, I told him. It should give us plenty of time to get to the press office and get our badges.

We’d flown out of Los Angeles on the red-eye to Zurich. Neither of us were successful at requesting aisle or window seats so we sandwiched ourselves between other travelers and tried not to sleep. “If you stay up most of the night you won’t be as jet lagged,” Craig had said. I fell asleep two thirds of the way through Psycho and didn’t wake up until Swiss Air was ready to serve breakfast.

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This Side of Paradise: The Bling Ring

on Thu, May 16, 2013 | By Sasha Stone
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In twenty years or so — after we sift through the rubble of three decades of self-help, the fifteen minutes of free-for-all fame, with the Kim Kardashian, Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan monuments to vapid designer-fueled high-living and camera close-ups to catch it all — we might finally see what the milking of our narcissistic tendencies on social networks has done to our priorities. It’s never been defined as brilliantly as Sofia Coppola lays it out right here. While some will always maintain Lost in Translation is her best work, on the contrary, The Bling Ring represents a far more ambitious move for this filmmaker. For once, she has stepped outside her comfort zone of portraying the languid wistfulness of disaffected youth in “atmosphere” films about the well-to-do.

Coppola knows this world well. Herself a muse and model for Marc Jacobs, a famous director’s daughter who grew up among kids just like those in The Bling Ring — the privileged cliques accustomed to being worshiped like gods and indulged like royalty — it is quite something to see her slice that world wide open, split it down the middle and expose the insides. She does this not by criticizing the thieves who felt it was almost their birthright to seek out celebrity homes and rob them, nor does she blame the Paris Hiltons of the world outright. She does it by allowing us to observe that almost no one gets away from this thing clean.

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Cannes review: Jeune et Jolie

on Thu, May 16, 2013 | By Sasha Stone
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A young and beautiful woman has untold amounts of power over men and most women don’t realize it until we’re long past it. Francois Ozon’s Jeune et Jolie is about a teenage girl who goes from virgin to prostitute in two seasons. Summer, she loses her virginity to a German tourist at the beach. It’s a miserable experience teaching an important lesson about what men want and how little what a woman wants has anything to do with it. The sex wasn’t about her pleasure, but about his.

By Fall, she’s built up a successful business as a young prostitute in Paris lying about her age and servicing a mostly older clientele.

We’re left to pick up the pieces and wonder what went wrong. But Ozon isn’t going to make that easy. “Lea” isn’t punished for her wicked ways as one might expect. She isn’t drugged up on heroin and left to die in a ditch. She isn’t beaten to a pulp by an angry John. She doesn’t get pregnant. She just makes a lot of money and enjoys the power and control the job affords her.

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Trailer for A Touch of Sin, Portrait of Modern China

on Thu, May 16, 2013 | By Sasha Stone

Described as “An angry miner revolts against the corruption of his village leaders.

A migrant worker at home for the New Year discovers the infinite possibilities a firearm can offer.

A pretty receptionist at a sauna is pushed to the limit when a rich client assaults her.

A young factory worker goes from job to job trying to improve his lot in life.

Four people, four different provinces. A reflection on contemporary China: an economic giant slowly being eroded by violence.
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Cannes review: Amat Escalante’s Heli

on Thu, May 16, 2013 | By Craig Kennedy

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Barcelona-born, Mexico City-raised Amat Escalante is three for three with Cannes. His first two films, Sangre (2005) and Los Bastardos (2008) both played in the Un Certain Regard category and this year he’s graduated to the main competition with Heli, a confidently mounted but mostly unpleasant exercise in human cruelty.

I didn’t see Sangre, but Los Bastardos was interesting and mysterious enough from the start to hold your attention while it built to a shockingly and (for me) unexpectedly violent conclusion. In it, Escalante channeled a certain quiet rage as he explored the illegal immigrant experience in the United States. It was awkward at times and heavy-handed, but it made its point and it made it with flair. There is little mysterious or unexpected about Heli on the other hand. It begins with a man dressed only in his underwear being hung from a bridge overpass so you know right away unpleasant things are in store. There are no surprises, there is only the inevitable.

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