Category Archives: Video
Saturday Matinee: M.C. Escher: Journey to Infinity

By Matt Zoller Seitz
Source: RogerEbert.com
Documentaries about visual artists tend to be so boringly conceived—talk about the life, show a picture, talk about the life, show another picture—that you may not realize what you’ve been missing until you see one as excellent as “M.C. Escher: Journey to Infinity.”
Written and directed by Robin Lutz, this is a rare feature that takes the trouble not just to understand its subject and communicate his significance, but find ways to show us, visually, how his style evolved, and the principles behind that evolution.
The tale begins with the standard-issue “This is a movie about a great artist, here are a few summary details abut his life and art,” with some landscape and architecture shots and images of Escher’s work. Then it becomes increasingly daring and fanciful, yet always remaining in service to the M.C. Escher, the Dutch draftsman and printmaker whose art became internationally famous during the post-World War II era.
Escher was a rare artist who managed to combine his influences into something genuinely new. His work is a geometric/mathematical surrealist vision of the objectively perceivable world, but also a subjective interior, evoking ancient Arabic-North African graphics; the Salvador Dali-Pablo Picasso-Georges Braque anti-realist sensibilities of the ’20s and ’30s, and computer models that would not become popular until decades after Escher’s own experiments.
Lutz and his collaborators, including a team of graphic designers and animators, make Escher’s art come to life in surprising and amusing ways, from having one of his trademark salamanders appear in an otherwise “realistic” frame and travel across increasingly “unreal” panoramas until we’re in an Escher print, to re-imagining intricately patterned Escher artworks so that we seem to glide along them, or into them/through them. This happens slowly enough so that we can appreciate how deftly the artist translated negative space into positive space, in ways that made the distinction seem arbitrary: for instance, the black spaces between joined silhouettes of lizards or amphibians might become black birds with white spaces between them, then go back again. Or people and animals might move along one stretch of diagonal stairs and jump to another, seeming to go upside down or sideways, in defiance of gravity, emphasizing the brain-teasing techniques Escher perfected.
Lutz and his team have found a cinematic analogy for the movement of the eye over static pictorial art reproduced in a book or hanging on a museum wall. The movie is especially good at evoking that “wow” moment when you realize that a thing you were looking at has turned into another thing. It’s explaining the magic trick without ruining the magic, a magic trick of a different sort.
This approach is so dazzling that one wishes the filmmakers had pushed it a bit further, deploying it even more often, or in more and subtler variations—perhaps figuring out a way to have the film itself flip back on itself structurally at key points, or end precisely where it started, so that the project itself seemed to have no beginning or end. (There’s a hint of this, but not much more.)
Musician Graham Nash, a devotee of Escher who contacted him late in his life, says Escher dismissed the idea that he was an artist. Throughout the movie, we hear Escher align himself with scientists and mathematicians, often trashing his own skills as a representational draftsman and speaking of his heroes and colleagues with awe.
This isn’t to say that Escher was down on himself at all times, or that that he entirely rejected the notion he was making art. Escher’s letters, performed in voice-over by actor Stephen Fry, make it clear that he challenged himself to improve his abilities and expand his vision and grew irritable when stuck in a groove. And yet there was always a sense—particularly once Escher hit his forties and realized he was indeed a global phenomenon—that a “real” artist wouldn’t be as entertaining. This is the world’s misconception, not Escher’s, but it’s still a shame that he let himself feel diminished by it. There’s power and profundity in Escher’s art, yet the puzzle-box aspect is what pulls you into it.
The movie makes a case that we should talk about Escher the way we talk about one of his inspirations, Johann Sebastian Bach, who like Escher was clever as well as substantive. Escher earned the comparison. Why do we resist it? Perhaps there’s still something in us, even this late into human development, that worries that if you’re having fun, it can’t be art. Escher struggled with that misconception, too, right up to the end.
Watch M.C. Escher: Journey to Infinity on Kanopy here: https://www.kanopy.com/product/mc-escher-journey-infinity
Two for Tuesday
Saturday Matinee: EMILY @ THE EDGE OF CHAOS

Synopsis by Kino Lorber
The brilliantly illuminating Emily @ the Edge of Chaos interweaves Emily Levine’s live performance with animation, appearances by scientists, and animated characters (John Lithgow as Sir Isaac Newton, Lily Tomlin as Ayn Rand, Leonard Nimoy as Sigmund Freud, Richard Lewis as Aristotle, Matt Groening as Aldo Leopold). The film uses physics – which explains how the universe works – to explain our metaphysics – the story of our values, our institutions, our interactions. Using her own experience and a custom blend of insight and humor, provocation and inspiration, personal story and social commentary, Emily takes her audience through its own paradigm shift: from the Fear of Change to the Edge of Chaos.
Emily Levine, like her film, was one-of-a-kind. She was a television writer, a stand-up performer, and an out-of-the box-thinker, whose brilliant TED talks have been seen by millions. She made this film with Wendy Apple, who produced and directed it. Wendy died in 2017 and Emily continued working on the film until she also passed away in 2019.
Watch Emily @ The Edge of Chaos on Kanopy here: https://www.kanopy.com/product/emily-edge-chaos
Two for Tuesday
Saturday Matinee: Meet the Patels

Review by Odie Henderson
Source: RogerEbert.com
The documentary “Meet the Patels” bills itself as a real-life romantic comedy. It embraces this notion by interspersing its subject’s quest for love with clips from successful examples of the rom-com genre. For this is the story of a man out to find a soulmate, and the film dramatically hinges on the outcome. While his camera-wielding sister films his quest, he is aided and abetted by his parents in scenes that all but guarantee a Hollywood remake. They can even get this film’s subject, actor-director Ravi Patel, to play himself.
Ravi’s older sister, Geeta, directs “Meet the Patels” with a tone of mischief recognizable to anyone who has a sibling. You can hear her laughing behind the camera at Ravi’s mistakes, and at one point she calls him an idiot with a mixture of love and disdain. She keeps Ravi’s biggest secret from her parents (but not from us). When he goes off on tangents, Geeta brings him back to the topic at hand. And though very supportive, she never lets him off the hook. She even pulls an older sibling’s “for your own good” move that is the film’s strongest moment: The documentarian in her overrides her brother’s reasonable request to shut the camera off. She shuts it off, but sneakily turns it back on, capturing a moment of high drama.
This probably sounds like someone’s home movies—Ravi jokes about this by pointing out the occasionally present boom mike and the shaky framing of some scenes—but “Meet the Patels” is about more than Geeta’s family. It tells a culturally specific story about love and marriage. Additionally, it speaks to the generational struggles over tradition and societal expectations, highlighting that children often have different ideas about life than their parents. These are universal subjects, so one does not have to be of Indian descent to appreciate “Meet the Patels.” You’ll either learn something new or nod your head with amused familiarity.
Geeta and Ravi are the unmarried children of Vasant and Champa Patel. Their single status is of concern to their father and a major point of ironic aggravation for their Mom. Mrs. Patel, who steals this movie from her son, has an unmatched reputation as a matchmaker, yet like a psychic she can’t use her powers for her own benefit. On a trip back to the area from which his parents emigrated, the question of marriage is on everyone’s mind. People already know of Ravi’s marital status, and every other person then tries to hook him up. “Think of that annoying relative who is always up in your business,” Ravi says. “Now imagine an entire village full of that person.”
With so much pressure to get married (“after a certain age, a single status becomes a code red,” Ravi warns), one can understand why Mrs. Patel has agita over her lack of grandchildren. When “Meet the Patels” opens, Ravi has just broken up with Audrey, a White woman he has been keeping from his parents for the past two years. It seems like she’s the one, but Ravi knows this relationship is controversial. Feeling the pull toward the expected tradition of marrying an Indian woman, Ravi finally decided to use his Mom’s services. This yearlong, cross-country search takes up most of the film.
Mr. Patel tells his son that Mrs. Patel was the twelfth woman his family introduced him to, and their one date before marriage consisted of a chaperoned visit where his future wife said very little. “There was a guy there, so no hanky-panky!” Mr. Patel says of his date. “Things are different now. You can go on multiple dates before deciding.” Ravi goes on date after date, none successful. When Geeta nonchalantly mentions that she’s gone on 200 dates without success, Ravi tells her she should be in front of the camera instead of him. Perhaps for the sequel.
Multiple dates may be ok, but some rules haven’t changed. As if finding a mate weren’t difficult enough, for Ravi and Geeta, It is strongly preferred that they find another Patel. If they chose one from India, there is also a geographical restriction regarding where one can find another Patel. I found this section fascinating, especially the sense of fraternity that accompanied one’s last name. If you’re a Patel, any other Patel will welcome you as if you were family, even if your interaction is temporary. There’s a hilarious animated vignette at an American motel where Mr. Patel’s driver’s license becomes a golden ticket for services the motel would never offer regular patrons. If only this fraternity/exclusive club thing worked for me with other Hendersons!
But I digress. In today’s Indian culture, the matchmaking game has been upped exponentially. Now there are websites and conferences devoted to getting one betrothed. The technology follows the standard rules for matchmaking. The most fascinating piece of non-technical marketing assistance is the biodata, a sort of personal resume that, like an employment resume, is usually full of bent truths. “I’ve never even seen my biodata!” one talking head reveals. “It creates a rosy picture of you that’s not you,” says another.
On the biodata is a specific detail that took “Meet the Patels” to another place for me. Reading his own biodata, Ravi mentions “skin tone, wheatish brown.” He then lists other descriptions of brown skin, all of which are explicit about skewering toward the lighter shades. “The lighter you are, the more attractive you are,” one of the interviewees tells us. “Good luck finding a mate for your dark daughter with the pH.D!” Ravi jokes. We learn that some people buy skin-lightening cream or keep their kids out of the Sun so they can stay “wheatish brown.”
Now, as a brown person myself, I could not let the notion escape my head that, like my people, Indians have a “paper bag test”. It was a darkly funny revelation that, regardless of race, if you were brown you had to deal with both society at large and your own crew in this regard. “Meet the Patels” sneaks up on you with these mentions and subtle explorations of intraracial and interracial bias, and it does so without destroying the film’s light tone.
Like the rom-coms it emulates, the ending of “Meet the Patels” is never in doubt. But this film is about the journey, not the destination. I liked how, during the film, your allegiances change back and forth. Sometimes I agreed with the parents, sometimes with Ravi, and at times I grew irritated with both of them. If there’s a flaw, it’s in how the film presents the women Ravi encounters. There’s a detachment that doesn’t often work. Many times, Ravi comes off as shallow in regard to these women he’s meeting, and the dates all tend to blur together. I also wish I’d known more about his relationship with Audrey; the lack of this information makes the ending feel rushed.
Those issues aside, “Meet the Patels” is still a charming, informative and funny documentary.
Two for Tuesday
Saturday Matinee: Idiocracy

Review by Fernando F. Croce
Source: Slant
By refusing to distance itself from its targets, Mike Judge’s brand of satire risks being mistaken for what it’s satirizing. The Beavis and Butthead cartoons were erroneously dismissed as a mindless extension (rather than a complicit critique) of misdirected suburban youth, a fate that can similarly befall Idiocracy, Judge’s sophomore live-action comedy—or could have, that is, if the picture had ever been actually released. Brusquely dumped by its studio without even the courtesy of a trailer, this orphaned project has, as a result, acquired such an aura of lacerating subversion—the movie 20th Century Fox was too chickenshit to distribute!—that it is more than slightly disappointing to find, upon actual viewing, not much beyond a solid episode of Futurama. Give it props for nerve, however: A world where Starbucks has become synonymous with handjobs is surely beyond the reach of Fox’s other unceremoniously-axed vision of the future.
Joe Bowers (Luke Wilson) is an ordinary Army schmoe picked as guinea pig in a government experiment. Along with mouthy streetwalker Rita (Maya Rudolph), he’s supposed to be cryogenically frozen for one year to test a hibernation program, but it isn’t until 2505 that the two are thawed out and released into a radically mutated world: The sheer proliferation of stupid people has gradually reversed the Darwinian process in the 500 years since, and the planet has become overrun with slack-jawed numbskulls barely able to string together the slangy insults the language has degenerated into. The President (Terry Alan Crews) is an ex-wrestler and former porn star, water has been replaced everywhere by sports drinks, and people are only too happy to accept, consume, and vegetate. Judge’s dystopia is a pop wasteland triggered by rampant ignorance (the very act of thinking is dubbed “faggy”) and then held down by corporate greed, a daring concept visualized in the picture’s most evocative shot, of Costco merchandise piled high toward the skies to suggest gargantuan towers ready to topple over.
As evident in the cubicle zombies of Office Space, Judge recognizes quotidian frustration and the small ways through which people revolt against it; working on a larger, broader scale in Idiocracy, however, his control quickly dissolves into a freefall of ideas and jokes, some hitting the bullseye and others landing on the floor with a thud. Judge is indifferent to anything resembling space or rhythm, yet the low-tech chintz of his approach ultimately enhances the caustic themes by making the futuristic atmosphere absurdly transparent; as with Godard’s Alphaville, we are already living in the future, for how wide a gap really separates Date Movie and Failure to Launch from Ass, the single, unchanging shot of a gassy, naked butt topping box-office charts in 2025? (The hero recalls a past when moviegoers “cared about whose ass it was, and why it was farting.”) Idiocracy is too scattershot and compromised to push the conceptual bleakness beyond the realm of lowbrow comedy, though Judge’s cultural ire remains bracing throughout: For all the characters’ slapsticky imbecility, Judge makes it clear that it’s their docile acceptance (read: political inactivity) that makes them true dumbasses.