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Eugene Hernandez, Brian Brooks and Peter Knegt of indieWIRE hard at work on my couch on the eve of the 17th Hamptons International Film Festival.

With the passing of writer Budd Schulberg there is the usual outpouring of hosannas and allelujahs to a great screenwriter and novelist and he was indeed a talented man who penned some excellent, enduring and quote-worthy works of art and therefore I feel neither the need nor the desire to add to said heapings of praise. Instead, I'd like to put on record one of the aspects of Mr. Schulberg's life that is largely missing from these paeans.

Even the "Gray Lady" herself, the New York Times, glossed over the shameful fact that in the 1950's Budd Schulberg and his occasional collaborator Elia Kazan both testified before the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) and thus destroyed the lives of many of their former colleagues including Ring Lardner Jr., Dalton Trumbo and Herbert Biberman. He named at least 15 of his close friends, helping to send many if not all of them to jail. As I have written before this is a shocking and despicable act and it must not be forgotten.

So far, only Carolyn Kellogg in the L.A. Times has run a piece about Schulberg and his betrayals and the testimony quoted in the article gives a pretty good idea of the kind of a man Schulberg was at the time. He claimed that he became disillusioned with the the Communist Party when Stalin signed a non-aggression pact and that the CP interfered with his work.

Both are valid criticisms (assuming the latter was true) and Schulberg was perfectly within his rights to leave the party, which he did. However, going on to name names and cooperate in one of the most horrific instances of government abuse in our nation's history was going too far.

"Dalton [Trumbo] wrote one good novel and that's it." [Schulberg told Victor Navasky for the latter's book Naming Names.] Most of these people never tried to write any social realism. I think maybe [they had some] guilt about making two thousand dollars a week and doing nothing. You could make it up by paying ten percent dues [to the Party], and maybe that made you feel better about being a hack. Most of them settled for being hacks.

These people, if they had it in them, could have written books and plays. There was not a blacklist in publishing. There was not a blacklist in the theater. They could have written about the forces that drove them into the Communist Party. There was practically nothing written."

So according to Schulberg, even though his testimony led to the loss of his former friends' ability to earn a living, it was their own damn fault because they either weren't as prolific as he was or weren't able to shift to stage plays and books, thus avoiding the Hollywood blacklist? That's a level of ego bordering on narcissism. Of course Schulberg was also wrong about Trumbo's output.

Please, save your "but he was a fantastic writer and deserves the accolades" responses. Of course he was a great writer and yes, deserves to be lauded as such. That said, when one does bad deeds, when one betrays long-standing friendships, when one does irreparable damage to the lives of that many people and their families, it must be included in any wrap up of your life. You don't get to skate in death, just because you were a great artist in life.

Summer Hours
Director: Olivier Assayas
Screenwriter: Olivier Assayas
Producers: Marin Karmitz, Nathanaël Karmitz, Charles Gillibert
Cinematography: Eric Gautier A.F.C.
Editor: Luc Barnier
Cast: Juliette Binoche, Charles Berling, Jérémie Renier, Edith Scod
IFC Films
102 Minutes, not rated

Summer Hours, Olivier Assayas' latest film, opens with children running free through gardens and woods around a typically beautiful French summer home. Filled with antiques and objets d'art, the house belongs to the Berthier family, whose matriarch is the 75 year old but still stunning Hélène (Edith Scob). Hélène owns the art collection that was handed down to her by a deceased uncle, a famous artist himself, with whom she may have had an intimate relationship years earlier. Now, at the end of her life, Edith is beginning to make the practical preparations of passing along the collection and the house to her three grown children, Adrienne (Juliette Binoche with blond tresses), Frédéric (Charles Berling) and Jérémie (Jeremie Renier). Only Frédéric, himself the single father of a tempestuous daughter, is the only one of the siblings who wants to keep the beautiful house and leave it to the next generation. Both Adrienne and Jérémie have jobs and lives that keep them both physically and emotionally distant from France. It is emotional distance that is at the heart of Assayas' beautiful story.

William Shatner poses after receiving the Nashville Film Festival's 2009 President's Impact Award, a specially designed Gibson guitar hand-painted by artist Mandy Lawson. This year's fest saw the world premiere of "Willian Shatner's Gonzo Ballet" from director Pat Buckley. Shatner was playful during the pre-screening presentation, remarking that in the 1950's, he used to travel around with a fretboard, always intending to learn how to play. He never did, but at the screening he promised....himself, he'd learn. Alas, a rumored performance of Shatner and Ben Folds at the screening's after party at the Gibson Guitar HQ never unfolded, as Folds was a no-show and Shatner only stuck around for 15 minutes. That said, word had it he was due back in LA at 10am the next morning, so I was disappointed but can't be pissed at Bill! That said, I really would have liked to meet the legend, as his CD "Has Been" was in my top ten albums of 2004. More on the film in my indieWIRE Nashville Film Festival round up!

Long time friends Jon Voight and Burt Young share a moment during the often moving tribute to the late, great director Hal Ashby (Coming Home, Harold and Maude) at the 2009 Sarasota Film Festival. Voight and Young co-starred in Ashby's 1982 film Lookin' to Get Out, the director's cut of which was recently discovered in the UCLA Film Archives and world premiered in Sarasota the night before the tribute. Ashby's daughter Leigh MacManus was on hand to accept the SFF's Master of Cinema award on her father's behalf and gave a stirring thank you speech wherein she spoke of never knowing her father and how much the closing moments of Lookin' to Get Out meant to her. I won't spoil the film for you (director's cut out soon on Warner Home Video!), but suffice to say, there wasn't a dry eye in the house and both MacManus and Voight were brought to tears during the evening.

Hunger
Director: Steve McQueen
Screenwriters: Enda Walsh and Steve McQueen
Producer: Laura Hastings-Smith and Robin Gutch
Cinematography: 
Sean Bobbitt BSC
Editor: Joe Walker
Music: David Holmes with Leo Abrahams
Cast: Michael Fassbender, Liam Cunningham, Stuart Graham, Brian Milligan, Liam McMahon 
UK-Ireland, 2008, 96 minutes

The double meaning in this astonishing film's title refers to both the hunger for food as well as for freedom. The prisoners in this factually-based and brutally realistic film are starved for both.

In 1981, during the Troubles in Northern Ireland, the UK government was imprisoning IRA members but refusing to give them political prisoner status. As a result a group detained at the HM Prison Maze (aka Long Kesh), led by Bobby Sands, went on "blanket protest" which basically meant refusing prison uniforms. This led to them being exposed to almost unimaginably horrendous conditions and as well as to a series of violent repercussions.

The film, the first directed by British multi-media artist Steve McQueen, opens with a middle aged man beginning his day. Much of his initial behavior seems mundane; getting dressed and being served toast & tea by his wife. But then we see him soaking his bloodied and swollen knuckles in the bathroom sink; and, just before he drives off to work, he kneels down to look under his car for a bomb. This man turns out to be prison guard, Raymond Lohan (Stuart Graham). The film's narrative is confusing at first; we assume that the story will be about this wounded individual. We also assume that he is carrying around fear, guilt and grief since he works in such a brutal environment. Surely he must feel ambivalent about his job.

One of my favorite nights of the year on the festival circuit is the annual Texas Film Hall of Fame cocktails and dinner and auction. Don't ask me why I love it so much, I just do. Part of it is because it is a benefit for the Austin Film Society and I think they're a very worthy group. Also, the indieWIRE guys and I, along with other friends, like UT prof John and new SXSW Film Festival & Conference honcho Janet Pierson get to mingle, have some drinks, a dinner and watch a better than average awards ceremony and auction, which is cool, too. Last year Law & Order SVU's Mariska Hargitay was moved to tears when accepting for her mother, Jayne Mansfield.

This year's honorees include Wes Anderson's Rushmore, which is receiving the Tiffany & Co. Star of Texas Award, Larry Hagman, Powers Boothe, Catherine Hardwicke and Billy Bob Thornton. About Boothe a friend of mine once said: "They should create a TV channel for him and just call it Powers Boothe." I kind of agree.

Other expected guests for the evening include Dennis Quaid, Keith Carradine, John Cusack, Linda Gray, Kyle Chandler, Connie Britton, Brad Leland and Dana Wheeler-Nicholson who will host a new feature for the evening, Party in the Red Room with actor and writer Paul Saucido. This year's host is Thomas Haden Church.

From 2002-5, the event was hosted by former Texas Governor, the late Ann Richards who passed away in late 2006. In 2007 the award was emceed by Richards' close friend and 2001 inductee, Liz Smith and in Richards' honor, the organizers handed out some special party favors:

Last March at the end of South by Southwest then-SXSW Film Festival producer Matt Dentler drove indieWIRE's Eugene Hernandez and Brian Brooks and myself out to a famous Austin-area restaurant called Hudson's on the Bend. A reported favorite of Lance Armstrong, the Hill Country eatery is famous for rather detailed (and fantastic) food with a heavy accent on game. Be it venison, elk, antelope, pheasant or yes, rattlesnake, Hudson's serves it, as well as lobster, trout, beef, rabbit, etc., etc., etc. and I'll say up front, it was one of the richest, most diverse carnivorous and delicious meals of my life and if you have a free night before, during or after SXSW, it's worth the 30 minute drive from downtown. I saved my write up until I started previewing SXSW 09 in order to make sure it's fresh in your minds and to whet my appetite for my return visit!

One mark of a restaurant that takes food service and the art of fine dining seriously is the amuse-bouche (I prefer to use amuse-gueule, but that's for another post...) that small palate starter that is not as common as it should be. This time it was a delicate pastry puff containing wild boar and Queso Chihuahua (No. It's NOT.)

Appetizers run the gamut from sushi grade Ahi tuna tartare with a wasabi avomole, pickled ginger pico and crispy lotus chips to pistachio-crusted diamondback rattlesnake cakes (pictured below) over a spicy chipotle cream to Maine lobster, butternut squash and chipotle lobster risotto topped with granny smith apple and pepitas. Other appies include escargots, oysters, duck confit, crab cakes and prosciutto-wrapped sc allops, among others. Are you sensing a theme, here? If you are a vegetarian, don't bother. There are some nice salads (one pictured below) and desserts, but otherwise, your food has a very delicious face.

A week into the Berlinale and the general critical response ranges from "meh" to bloody awful. I'm more in the so-so camp, having seen a few films that spoke to me in certain ways, but not having seen anything that blows me away. Nothing like The Counterfeiters from 2007 or Hallam Foe from the same year or Offside, from 2006. So far nothing makes me say "Wow!"

Bertrand Tavernier's In the Electric Mist suffers from a number of maladies which combine to turn a potentially gripping murder cum supernatural thriller into a slightly muddled minor disappointment, albeit one with enough acting, direction and meaty plot to make it an interesting and worthwhile disappointment with much of that let down coming in the form of a rather unsatisfying reveal of the killer.

The film centers around Tommy Lee Jones, who is treading familiar territory as Dave Robicheaux a hard boiled police lieutenant in New Iberia Parish, Louisiana. Jones has a strong moral core, a laconic disposition and a troubled past (this time it's alcoholism) and Jones could play this role in his sleep but to his credit, Jones rarely phones in a performance and this one is no difference. He's compelling to watch for the duration.

After sixteen years of festival going, you'd think I'd understand about opening night films. In short, they suck. For every Four Weddings and a Funeral, there are about 400 Enemy at the Gates and for every Good Night and Good Luck, there are a few dozen stinkers like this year's Berlinale opener, The International, directed by Tom Tykwer (Run Lola Run). The thing is, that's ok. The German public will likely be charmed by the film's many Euro locals (included Berlin) and it's quite possible that the subtitled dialog is better than the original English, although somehow I doubt it. Screen Daily's Fionnuala Halligan has it right when she writes "the dialogue itself seems to come from Karate Kid." One of the choice "mal mots" being "Sometimes you have to know which bridge to cross ... and which to burn." Ugh.

For the past several years, Shorts International and Magnolia Pictures have gotten together and distributed the Oscar nominated shorts in theaters around the country so the general public can see the nominated films that previously were only seen by members of the Academy and those of us lucky enough to watch films, long and short, for a living. For the past few years I've seen all or most of them and by and large, they are of high quality. I am a huge fan of short films and catch them as often as I can. Starting Friday, February 6th, many of you in the US, UK and Mexico can see these in the theater, a place that shorts are rarely seen.

This year's 5 nominated animated films are without exception, of high quality. All too often there's a weak link (See 2006's mawkish The Little Matchgirl) and all too often, an obvious winner (hint: Pixar). This year, however, the best film is not that obvious, although I suspect that Pixar will win due to name recognition, alone. It's not that I think they don't deserve it, just that it's not as obvious as years past. That's not to advise those of you filling out Oscar ballots to vote against Doug Sweetland's Presto (USA, 5 mins). Ignore a Pixar short at your own peril.

Of the four remaining animation nominees, Kunio Kato's Japanese 12 minute entry La Maison en Petits Cubes (Pieces of Love, Vol. 1) is the strongest, with its tale of a lonely widower, left to continually work to keep his head above water. While comparing animation techniques is like comparing painting styles, content is another thing and Kato's film is both moving and exquisitely drawn. The 3 minute French entry Oktapodi, directed by Julien Bocabeille, Francois-Xavier Chanioux, Olivier Delabarre, Thierry Marchand, Quentin Marmier and Emud Mokhberi wins the award for most directors per minute and is funny and cute, but I find it hard to believe it was one of the 5 best animated shorts of the year.

Rounding out the five entries are Konstantin Bronzit's Lavatory-Lovestory (Russia, 10 mins), a quite touching (and punny) look at love found in the unlikeliest of places, and UK directors Smith & Foulkes' This Way Up, is a darkly comedic and musical 9 minute piece about two undertakers that appears almost equally influenced by Tim Burton and Czech animation. To be honest, I am astonished that there's no Czech work nominated. They are among the best in the world! That said If you're a fan of short films and animation, you should do yourself a favor and see these films when they open tomorrow.

For more information on these and the live action shorts, click here. You'll be glad you did!

Gran Torino
Director: Clint Eastwood
Screenwriter: Nick Schenk
Story: Dave Johannson & Nick Schenk
Producer: Clint Eastwood
Cinematography: 
Tom Stern
Editor: Joel Cox, Gary D. Roach
Music: Kyle Eastwood & Michael Stevens
Cast: Clint Eastwood, Christopher Carley, Bee Vang, Ahney Her 
U.S.A., 2008, 116 minutes

Just in time for the Academy's big "Fuck You" sendoff to Clint Eastwood, my long-delayed review of Gran Torino.

If you had described the plots to me, side by side, I would have said that Clint Eastwood's higher-profile film, Changeling, was going to be a more interesting film than it's seemingly thinner Gran Torino and I would have been about as wrong as I could be. While the former Angelina Jolie vehicle was blatant, mawkish, heavy-handed Oscar bait, the latter is the real gem of the end-of-the-year crop. Those who believe he's still got his chops as an actor, director and (immensely underrated) composer and overcome the agist, knee-jerk impulse to write him off as "done," should see this well acted and directed look at age and race relations in a 21st century America.

Gran Torino is many things, but a standard revenge film it is not. Loaded with far more humor and subtlety than the typical vengeance film, it's far similar in tone to Robert Benton's excellent 1994 Paul Newman pic Nobody's Fool than it is Death Wish.

Ever since it won the Golden Lion at this year's Venice Film Festival, Darren Aronofsky's The Wrestler has beet hotly anticipated and those not lucky enough to catch it in Toronto or at the NY Film Festival should now understand why. While The Wrestler is continually being referred to as the filmmaker's return to form or other such hogwash from people who didn't see the beauty in his last film, The Fountain. Thankfully, his latest has no such barriers to its success and this exceptional film is one of the best-reviewed films of the year.

The Wrestler is being compared to Rocky and while it is similar in a few superficial ways, its core message and lead character are distinctly different. Rocky was a bum. He wasn't a had been, he was a "never was." He'd never been close to a contender and was more like On the Waterfront's Terry Molloy (except that Rocky eventually became "somebody," of course). On the other hand, The Wrestler's Randy "The Ram" Robinson (achingly played by a resurgent Mickey Rourke) was a superstar.

On the heels of Prop 8, comes Gus Van Zant's Milk and without mincing words, it's a tour de force. The truth is, as big as this movie's subject matter is - the assassination of San Francisco's first out gay politician, Harvey Milk (Sean Penn) - and as much opportunity as there is to pound in its message, the reason the movie works so well is because it is thoughtful in its telling and its performances are so subdued. A movie along these lines is, frankly, ripe for melodrama but Van Zant goes deeper and puts character before agenda. Early in the movie, Milk literally stands on a soapbox but never for a moment do we get any of the Oliver Stone bombast. Milk intentionally uses his personable nature and humor to reach or rather, create his constituency. It is no doubt something of a defense mechanism. Harvey Milk led a closeted life until he was about 40 years old, which happens to be just when the movie starts. A moment later we see that Milk has been killed and the movie is told in flashbacks as Harvey sits at his kitchen table and commits his story into a tape recorder. His calm narration gives the movie its stabilizing tone.

The National Board of Review, typically among the first critics groups to bestow end-of-year honors, announced their winners today, with Danny Boyle's Slumdog Millionaire picking up the top film prize, and Clint Eastwood (Grand Torino) and Anne Hathaway (Jonathan Demme's Rachel Getting Married) picking up the top acting awards. Best documentary went to James Marsh's Man on Wire. The complete list can be found on indieWIRE.com here.

I can't comment on Slumdog, Torino or Rachel as I haven't seen them yet but the general buzz around the Internet and the real world is that there is not one obvious frontrunner for best picture. No Titanic, no Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, no ....Cras.... Oh, right.

At any rate, no one has a breakaway prediction with most top three lists containing The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Milk and Slumdog. From what I've heard of the first of these, there's a question as to whether or not the Academy is as sappy as it was back in 1994 when the excremental Forrest Gump picked up the award over Pulp Fiction and The Shawshank Redemption. Still boggles the mind....