June 8, 2003|Eyes glowering under a shock of black hair, Alexander Payne, tall and angular, strikes a sort of middle-American Neil Gaiman figure, cutting through the crowds gathered for the 12^th Aspen Shortsfest with authority and something like diffidence. Meeting in the lobby of the Wheeler Opera House, we go off in search of a shot of espresso; along the way he corrects that he didn't study Spanish Philosophy in college, but Spanish Philology; makes it a point to punctuate some statements with a companionable squeeze of my arm; and then says something sort of curious: "I don't know why you'd want to talk to me, Walter, I don't have anything interesting to say." I chuckled, of course, but he was deadly serious and would repeat the statement a couple of times. Judging it to be neither a strategy to avoid interviews nor a way to disarm a would-be interrogator, I took it as weariness with the entire junket/publicist/interview process.

April 27, 2003|Discovered at a student party by director Hal Ashby, one of the more tragic figures of the American New Wave of the ’70s, James Foley is at his best when detailing the brash social textures of the United States and the intricacies of male relationships (and, by extension, male relationships arrayed around dangerous women) in his canny shrines to the film noir genre. His new film Confidence returns Foley to the mean streets of his Glengarry Glen Ross in a caper film that defies the odds by not only being an entertaining and cohesive heist flick (after the high-profile flops that were David Mamet’s Heist and Frank Oz’s The Score), but also by finding a role for the aggressively unlikable Ed Burns that actually suits him. Foley’s best film, however, remains the brilliant After Dark, My Sweet–the only film, curiously, that he’s ever written, and the only screen adaptation of Jim Thompson that rings with the lewd authenticity of a Thompson novel.

March 23, 2003|She looks a little like the subject of one of her own films: vaguely Bohemian, artsy, with the air of one invested in the secretive, slightly disassociating practice of creation. I met Lisa Cholodenko at Denver's Hornet restaurant, just across the street from the Landmark Mayan theatre on a clear, warm Colorado winter's afternoon. In town for an advance screening of her new film Laurel Canyon that took place the night before, this day found her badly in need of a quick nosh after a mad morning with the florid bouquet of the Denver media (badly in need of pruning so that the live ones can flourish). Ms. Cholodenko speaks succinctly and carefully–she can seem a little defensive at times, the source of her discomfort possibly having something to do with the speed with which her work has been politicized along sexual (lesbian) lines. But over two orders of the restaurant's lovely Mayan Salad (get it with the dressing on the side), I found Ms. Cholodenko to be curious and warm as we dished a little on the ultimate failure of The Hours and the essentialness of New Order's "Brotherhood" album (and Antonia Bird's Ravenous). I asked her how she got her start as an editing assistant on John Singleton's Boyz N the Hood.

March 23, 2003|I met Austin Chick during a Critic's Reception at Denver's Pinnacle Club, a swank spot perched on the 38^th floor of the Qwest building with panoramic views of the front-range. Compact and friendly, Chick has a firm handshake and a spare New Hampshire accent; I was glad of this encounter later because, when my scheduled interview proper with Chick rolled around, a blowhard of a local reporter decided to take it upon himself to redefine sycophancy for about ten minutes of my allotted time. In my cocktail party interplay, however, I learned of Chick's initial desire to shoot in DV before receiving a 35mm camera from a kind studio benefactor; that he came to be familiar with Mark Ruffalo through seeing him in a Kenneth Lonergan play; and that he is in the process of developing two projects, one as a director for a major studio.

his role as one of John Cusack’s sidekicks in High Fidelity (star-struck employees hovered around us, hoping for a word), I was more excited to talk to him about his vocal cameo in the late, lamented series “The Critic”, as well as, of course, his first foray into directing with the remarkable Love Liza. Clad in the epitome of unassuming casual, Mr. Louiso seemed surprised that I had a complete filmography for him and embarrassed that I wanted to talk about his career in some detail–reactions both that speak to not only the investment that most of my peers take in researching their topic, but to a certain quality of Mr. Louiso: an unforced modesty that charms. Over the course of our interview, we talked about all manner of things, particularly, fascinatingly, of his passages over water.

Walter Chaw 'exfoliates' the stuff that matters with the gifted minds behind ALL THE REAL GIRLS

February 16, 2003|I met David Gordon Green and Paul Schneider in the lounge mezzanine of Denver's historic Mayan Landmark Theater; they met each other while attending the North Carolina School of the Arts. Green: "I wrote the script for All the Real Girls before George Washington, while Paul and I were still in college. I wanted to make a movie that captured the genuine feeling of being young and in love." Schneider: "We both got dumped by girls that we were madly in love with. We were completely depressed and we just sat in my room listening to the most melancholy music we could find."

November 4, 2002|Taking notes in the lobby of Denver's Brown Palace Hotel, I was surprised to look up into the vaguely terrifying gaze of actor Ray Liotta, in town to promote his latest film and first foray into producing: the gritty, harrowing Narc. Unfailingly polite, Liotta impresses most with his candour and forthrightness–a breath of fresh air in a business that too often resembles a mutual admiration society of professional spin-doctors and overripe hucksters. I was disarmed more than once during our conversation (punctuated occasionally by his trademark laugh) by the careful attention Mr. Liotta afforded my questions. I'm far more accustomed to being a sounding board for folks with something to promote, questions be damned. I began by asking Mr. Liotta why he chose at this stage of his career to begin producing.