I join “CTV News Toronto at Five” with anchor Zuraidah Alman to talk about new movies in theatres including the music doc “Nash the Slash Rises Again!,” the audio horror of “undertone” and the romantic melodrama of “Reminders of Him.”
Watch the whole thing HERE! (Starts at 14:50)
Fast reviews for busy people! Watch as I review three movies in less time than it takes to tune a violin. Have a look as I race against the clock to tell you about the music doc “Nash the Slash Rises Again!,” the audio horror of “undertone” and the romantic melodrama of “Reminders of Him.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
SYNOPSIS: “Nash the Slash Rises Again!,” a new documentary now playing at Hot Docs, unwraps the story of an enigmatic musical pioneer who borrowed his name from a Laurel and Hardy silent film and hid his face but not his talent behind surgical bandages.
CAST: Jeff Plewman, Iggy Pop, Gary Numan, Youth, Gary Topp, Owen Pallett, Paul Myers, Valerie Buhagiar, Don McKellar, Danielle Dax, Steve Hillage, Nathanael Chadwick, Jaymz Bee, Jeanne Beker, Marilyn Burns, Corpusse, Michael Dent, Rodrigo Gudiño, Gunnar Hansen, Oliver Hardy, Cameron Hawkins, Randy Johnston, Stan Laurel, Tony Malone, Ron Mann, David Marsden, Paul A. Partain, Tom Plewman, Stephen Pollard. Directed by Tim Kowalski.
REVIEW: Nash the Slash, a.k.a. Jeff Plewman, is one of the most singular musical acts to ever emerge from Toronto, or anywhere. A multi-instrumentalist with a focus on electric violin and electric mandolin, he wrapped his face in surgical bandages, à la The Invisible Man, wore dark glasses, and a tuxedo finished off by a top hat.
His theatrical music, usually performed solo when he wasn’t touring with the band FM, was an unholy blend of prog rock, new wave, experimental electronic influenced by everything from Beethoven and Krautrock to Hawkwind and old horror movies. His music, often augmented by synths, drum machines, harmonica, glockenspiel and other sounds, was unclassifiable, groundbreaking and destined for cult status.
A new documentary, “Nash the Slash Rises Again!,” fondly remembers the man behind the mystery, the musician Iggy Pop called “unusual and brilliant.”
Director Tim Kowalski understands that to get to know Nash, you first must understand where he came from. He paints a picture of Toronto, circa 1970s and 80s, as an outwardly staid city, unfriendly to outsiders, particularly the LGBTQ+ community, but with a vibrant underground art scene.
It was from this incubator of rebellion that Nash emerged, a product of classical training, rock ‘n roll and an artistic temperament. Through archival footage, interviews with the man himself and exciting performance footage, Kowalski places Nash in context as a musician who walked his own path, strove for fame but never at the cost of his artistic integrity.
It’s a loving portrait that doesn’t shy away from the darker details, like Nash’s bad temper and an arrest for domestic incident, but it succeeds best as a nostalgic celebration of a trailblazer who didn’t get his due during his lifetime.
As promised “Carmine Street Guitars,” the new documentary from Ron Mann, is about guitars. Beautiful stringed instruments hand made with love by artesian Rick Kelly. But it isn’t just about guitars. Sure, we hear music, solo performances by pickers and grinners like “Captain” Kirk Douglas, Lenny Kaye, Eleanor Friedberger, Charlie Sexton and Bill Frisell, but it’s about tradition and the personal connections between creators and their instruments.
For decades Kelly and his shop Carmine Street Guitars has been a Greenwich Village landmark. Untouched by modern conveniences like cell phones and computers, Kelly uses tools handed down from his grandfather, salvages old wood from New York landmarks like McSorley’s Old Ale House—the “bones of the city,” he calls them—to create one-of-a-kind instruments he says have a resonance that newer materials cannot duplicate. With him is apprentice, Cindy Hulej, a woodworker who burns beautiful designs into the faces of the guitars she creates.
It’s a slice of life doc, a week in the life of the shop as musicians come in, hang out and talk about guitars. Mann creates a rhythm that echoes the slow pace of life inside the store. Kelly is soft spoken, an old-school artist in a rapidly changing city, somehow dodging the homogenization that is putting people like him out of business. His icy demeanor toward a high rolling real estate agent tells you everything you need to know regarding his feelings toward the people who value glass and steel over heart and soul.
“Carmine Street Guitars” is an ode to tradition, to artistry, to slowing down. It’s an understated hang-out movie that has as much resonance as the old wood Kelly uses to make his guitars.
The image of a sandcastle kicks off “Altman,” director Ron Mann’s look at the life and work of Robert Altman. The filmmaker behind movies like “M*A*S*H,” “Nashville” and “The Long Goodbye” once compared making movies to building sand castles, a metaphor he found so powerful he even named his production company Sandcastle 5.
Then later, just before the end credits, the sandcastle disappears. It’s a simple but effective visual summation of Altman’s ethos, build it, watch it go and start all over again.
Mann worked with Altman’s family and colleagues to piece together the personal and professional life of one of the mavericks of American film. The result is a comprehensive documentary that traces Altman’s work back to his roots in industrial filmmaking in Kansas City, to becoming one of television’s most in-demand directors to his iconoclastic work for the big screen. Woven into that narrative is the personal story of the director’s relationship with his wife and business partner of four decades Kathryn and their children.
The story is told in their words—Altman’s reminiscences are culled from 400 hours of footage from his public talks and interviews—accompanied by film clips and unseen until now home movies and stills.
Additional colour comes from the famous faces of Lily Tomlin, Keith Carradine, the late Robin Williams and Elliott Gould, who each answer one question, “What does the word Altman-esque mean to you?” The wide range of answers, which often are pared down to one word or a short phrase, provide a curt but effective glimpse at the unique multiverse Altman created in his life and work.
The result of all these elements is “Altman,” a beautiful and naturalistic portrait of a man, not just his work. It would have been impossible to go in-depth on each of Altman’s 39 films in just ninety minutes, so Mann concentrates on capturing the spirit of a man who built sandcastles over and over again.
