Getting a movie made is an Olympian task. Getting a movie made and released is even tougher. So Alex Karpovsky's accomplishment -- writing, directing and starring in two movies that are being released the same day as a double-feature -- seems positively Herculean.
There's just a massive creative-fatigue-miasma hanging over the film business these days, a sense the establishment has sucked all the air out of the business (as well as the financing) and that your options are limited.
Of the films I saw on Monday, the two I liked the best were About Face, Timothy Greenfield-Sanders' documentary about supermodels of yesteryear, and Save the Date, a bittersweet tale of young adult romance.
Both films deal with pain, but virtually issuing from different planets. In Wartorn it's distress of the suicide-inducing variety. In Tiny Furniture it's privileged misery -- the romantic humiliation of a plumpish young woman.
Having sex on a Brooklyn street: desperate or endearing? That seems to be the question that writer-director-actress Lena Dunham is hearing a lot about a climactic scene in her new feature, Tiny Furniture.
I found myself oddly perturbed by Lena Dunham's Tiny Furniture. What was it that set me on edge? It may be Dunham's absolute confidence in telling a story about a character who gradually loses our sympathy.