2013 Atlanta Film Festival review: ZIPPER: CONEY ISLAND'S LAST WILD RIDE

Coney Island.  What do those words say to you? Does it matter where you are reading this from?  Istanbul? San Antonio? Sydney? Los Angeles? No, probably not...

The mere mention of Coney Island transmits a like mindview to all of the world's people--one very much unlike any other theme park or neighborhood. The distinct image of Coney Island is a hand-painted one, particularly musty and authentic, and obviously mom-and-pop-run. It is a singular place--a place of nutty beauty. It's a masterful confluence of sand, surf, boardwalk, cotton candy, the Wonder Wheel, goofy games, teeming crowds, and chaos--and all easily experienced at an affordable price.  

But, for decades now, the Coney Island legacy--which reaches all the way back to 1829--has been threatened by greedy developers and NYC politicians with dollar signs in their eyes. Amy Nicholson's fabulous new documentary, Zipper: Coney Island's Last Wild Ride, does a superb job of reducing this complex zoning issue/political football into understandable bite-sizes, while movingly portraying the tale of one single representative feature at the park: the crazy tumbler of a ride known as the Zipper.

In production for six years (and shot largely on Super 16 mm film), Zipper deftly juggles the issues.  It pays attention to the colorful characters (led by owner Eddie Miranda) who operate the Zipper five months out of the year, and who still made enough money to feed their families during the off months (thus disputing the claims of politicians who say that Coney Island's rides and businesses cannot financially sustain their owners). Meanwhile, it also profiles the nominal (and, I suppose, well-meaning, at least in his own mind) villain of the piece. This is Joe Sitt and he's the head of Thor Equities, the money-awash firm that's been buying up Coney Island properties for a long time now, with the intent of ultimately sending the mom-and-pop stores packing in favor of a shiny new Coney Island that replaces those treasured businesses with seaside condos, Friday's, Applebee's, Taco Bell's, Bubba Gump's, and Gap outlets (like we need more of those).

Zipper has its story further complicated by Coney Island's local commissioners, who first seem as if they are on the side of those who want to keep Coney Island "karny kool," but who eventually show their true colors in supporting Joe Sitt's (and Mayor Bloomberg's) selling of Coney Island down the river. This aspect of the film is infuriating, especially since Nicholson's cameras handily captures the zeal with which Coney Island, in all of its gorgeous, hand-crafted glory, is attended by millions of people each year (and the numbers don't lie: all of this development is having an negative effect on the park's attendance). It's basically a place that is not broken, but is being fixed anyway. 

Ultimately, Zipper is most memorable, though, for its examination of this one, single ride--one that is loved immensely by all who are violated by it (a highlight of the film is a compilations of videos shot by riders who have their camera going while their ride cage is rocking in the air; this segment is a veritable symphony of screams). By the time the film's heartbreaking climax comes, you might be shedding a tear for all those things in Coney Island, and even in your own city, that are historically rich, but which are being washed away in the tide of supposed progress. In that and in many other ways, Amy Nicholson's lively documentary Zipper: Coney Island's Last Wild Ride is historically and culturally invaluable in and of itself. 

Below is my interview with Zipper's producer/director Amy Nicholson, shot by Rich Gedney and conducted at the 2013 Atlanta Film Festival:

2013 Atlanta Film Festival review: THE GREAT CHICKEN WING HUNT

Yes. You read that title right. The Great Chicken Wing Hunt. Yep.

I count myself as one who loves me some chicken wings, especially if they're done right. And I've had some that mightily impressed me, and some that left me stone cold.  But I number myself as one of many an undying fan of the food. Yet I've never even considered the ramifications of being so. It really took Matt Reynolds' truly wonderful documentary, premiering here at the 2013 Atlanta Film Festival, to deeply consider the importance of this tangy, burny-hot protein treat.

Reynolds is a former reporter for Reuters, and as such has had his writing published all over the world, in a dizzying variety of publications. Fluent in the Czech/Slovak languages, he's been based in Eastern Europe for many years. But, as a native of what he calls "The Wing Belt" (stretching all across the Northeast United States), he obviously felt a powerful hankering for the signature food of his homeland, because he finally decided to give up his well-paid journalist life for a singular quest. And while his Slovak compatriots (including his girlfriend and much of his eventual film crew) could not imagine making a documentary about sheep's cheese dumplings (apparently the ubiquitous Eastern European equivalent of chicken wings), Reynolds remained steadfast about searching the Wing Belt (and, in all probability, worldwide, since the rest of the clueless world has largely yet to embrace the chicken wing as a go-to meal) for the World's Best Buffalo Chicken Wing. Yes. Insanity.  But yet this is a much more complicated and important endeavor than one might realize at first.  

Now...I have to stop myself. This is NOT a movie solitarily about chicken wings. No. It is not. This is what makes this movie absolutely colossal.

The Great Chicken Wing Hunt is a movie about comradery. It is about passion, and a fine romance, and change. It is about friendship, and taste standards. It is a road movie. And a cliffhanger. It is about gentle competition. It has an underdog, suspense and surprises.  It has fantastic music, and a camp of memorable characters. It's about doing something totally wacky, and seeing it to the end.  It's about flaming tastebuds, and crunchy textures and truly philosophical discussion about the minutae of standards. And, ultimately, it's about the establishment and recognition of the first and perhaps only de facto American food. Still, as I type that last sentence, I'm astonished. But, as The Great Chicken Wing Hunt establishes, it is a truism. And here's the REALLY stupendous thing: Reynolds, who is a first-time filmmaker, uses his remarkable editorial abilities to transmit this multi-layered story in a manner of 70 short minutes. The film's cutting (also by Reynolds), by the way, is resolutely outstanding. 

In his movie's first moments, Reynolds profiles the accidental history of the Buffalo chicken wing, invented in early 1960s New York by Frank and Teressa Bellissimo in a fit of exquisite and frustrated creativity. Then Reynolds summarizes the history of the food's burgeoning popularity (which has still, as of yet, I think, to reach its worldwide apex). Then he quickly moves on to his own story as the questionably grounded ringleader. And then he profiles his host of characters...and here's where things get really juicy.

First there is his girlfriend, Lucie (my very favorite character in the film), who is mystified at her boyfriend's obsession, but who follows him stateside to participate in his quest. I have to pause here and say how funny and utterly captivating I find her in this piece, and how much I empathize with her confusion (Reynolds, inevitably as an involved filmmaker, cleverly casts this extreme outsider as the perhaps amazed American audience's advocate, which is a remarkable directorial choice, and so tremendously correct). Almost every one of her appearances in the film make my heart murmur (like when she is seen crying at the hotness of a particular wing or covering herself up in the morning, reluctant to be a part of her man's "reality show," or her show of empathy at the sacrifices Matt's voluntary cohorts are showing for this effort). In short, I can see why Matt fell for this brave woman. 

But then there is Ric Kealoha, a hardnosed and unforgiving wingnut from Hawaii who leaves his pregnant wife on her own in order to take this journey with Matt, and who maybe as a result has maybe impossibly high standards; Ben "The Mighty Thor" Beavers, a 350-pound hulk of a competitive eater who knows how the hell to throw a party; Al Caster, a long-bearded collector of beauty who's hilariously ready to love everything he tastes and who provides much of the film's superb music with his renditions of traditional folk tunes (which will make you wish for a soundtrack, tout suite). And then, maybe most touchingly, there is Ron Wieszczyk, a Kodak employee looking straight at the downsizing of the film industry while being a wing enthusiast seeking a change of focus. 

For this Herculean challenge posed towards a busload of ridiculously eager participants, a buffalo wing is defined as: "A deep fried chicken wing coated in pepper sauce and butter."  This becomes incredibly important, but I will leave it at that. So Matt and Lucie take these wackjobs on a fervent, multi-week tour of the Wing Belt in order to find the Perfect Wing (which Matt totally insists is in existence...he's a man that believes in perfection all across life's board). In this process, there is discovery, confusion, obfuscation, debate, madness, anger, joy, excitement, and victory. And all of these features are highlighted in more than one guise.

The Great Chicken Wing Hunt is a prime example of what I (and Matt Reynolds, as I have learned from interviewing him BEFORE I saw his movie) would like to call the "fun documentary." There are not many important "fun" docs that are burned into movie history. Many music documentaries, such as Monterey Pop, Woodstock, The Last Waltz and Stop Making Sense, could be considered as such (I might also posit the recent Oscar-winning hit Searching for Sugar Man, as well as classics like Sherman's March, American Movie, Los Angeles Plays Itself, Jazz on a Summer's Day, Heavy Metal Parking Lot, Festival, Broadway: The Golden Age, Painters Painting, Man on Wire, Microcosmos. March of the Penguins and Winged Migration as entries into this subgenre). But I defy many movie lovers--even the most hardcore of such--to name many other serious, extremely well-made documentaries that should be considered as fellows in this bunch.  But why should the subject of music and art dominate this category? Why should not the universal subject of food be represented here? I think Matt Reynolds is somewhat of a pioneer in this regard. His film is not bogged down with social injustice.  Though there are hardships in his movie, The Great Chicken Wing Hunt is not about how unforgiving the world is. It's not about getting one's art to the masses (well, maybe a little bit), or about the travails of lower species (maybe a little bit here, too, LOL).  He's concentrating on something that obviously has much love out there (there are 90 million chicken wings consumed on the average Super Bowl Sunday alone). But, even after all that love...you know what?   I've never heard one single person posit that the chicken wing is the quintessential American food (and, by the way, I look forward to similar docs about other countries' signature foods). But, here, I believe, this filmmaker proves that this is a U.S.A.-born original. And Matt Reynolds does so in a dramatic, funny, well-constructed, constantly visually delectable fashion (the film contains not only a surplus of sumptuous camerawork, but also expertly produced, wisely-placed graphics by Benjamin Cheek). 

I could gush on and on about The Great Chicken Wing Hunt (and I feel moved to pose that Wingnuts would be a suitable, though perhaps too cute alternate title for this doc). At any rate, it's now one of my bonafide best movies of 2013, even though it it nominally unreleased (and I truly hope it gets distribution immediately). But I close with this: to watch this film at full force, and with maximum enjoyment, I'd advise you to have a bucket of wings near you, because yer gonna be extra mouth-wateringly hungry midway through. Let me also advise you to have some tissues at hand as well.  These will not be necessarily needed as remedy for the heat from your cache of wings. This is a movie that will move you to cry on its own. 

Below is my fun interview with Matt Reynolds, shot and edited by my great friend Rich Gedney and conducted at the 2013 Atlanta Film Festival as part of our coverage for MOVIE GEEKS UNITED! 

2012 Atlanta Film Festival review: STREET DOGS OF SOUTH CENTRAL

Given the title of Bill Marin's documentary Street Dogs of South Central, I was nervous as sat down for its screening at the Atlanta Film Festival.   I'm an avid animal lover, and I was afraid I was in for 90 minutes of misery; my heart breaks when I see even one dog or cat on the streets, much less whole packs of them.   But the makers of this unique twist on the nature film know theirs is a sensitive subject, and so they handle it gingerly.   The film, narrated by Queen Latifah, focuses in on two sets of dogs: a Black lab called Elsie, who sees her litter of four puppies dwindle to two as she teaches them to navigate the brutal Los Angeles streets; and a couple of pit bulls called Jack and Jill (the film informs us that pit bulls are the most common strays in South Central as many people choose them to be fighters and guard dogs, but are disappointed when they often turn out to be docile--this is a factoid that tells a lot about this rough neighborhood).   The movie, picked up by Animal Planet and Lion's Gate, doesn't exactly shy away from the harsh lives these animals lead; particularly disturbing are any scenes where a dog is seen trying to make its way across a busy motorway (this is a sight that, in real life, can always send me into a tizzy), and a long sequence in which Elsie, deep in heat, is pursued for long hours by scads of amorous, snarling alpha dogs (these scenes hammer home the key need for animals to be spayed and neutered).

But amidst examinations of their foraging and survival, Merin and his team are careful to include moments of joy shared by their subjects as they play and snuggle together.  Yes, somehow there are such scenes of happiness.   Also, smartly, the filmmakers avoid showing scenes of outright horror; there are no dead dogs or crushing scenes of pound life here (though the threat of death quite obviously hangs over these animals every minute of the day).  Street Dogs of South Central suffers from its overdone wall-to-wall scoring, which marks it squarely as television product.  However, the narration, while also a bit incessant, is well-written and delivered with passion, and the film is photographed superbly.  Moreover, its mission--to remind people that there are 30,000 dogs like this in every major city, and that it's a problem that needs further concern from all humans--is a sound one.  This is an intrepid work that deserves to be seen, and debated.

Courtesy of my photographer/editor Rich Gedney, here's my interview with the producer Vincent Ueber and director/co-photographer Bill Marin, done at the closing night party of the 2012 Atlanta Film Festival.  This interview is followed by a short preview of the movie.

More Self-Promotion, thanks to Rich Gedney

I've met a new friend named Rich Gedney. I did so through a completely world-famous artist named Lisa Falour, who spearheaded one of the premiere early 80s Lower East Side NYC punk zines--and therefore the progenitor of the modern blog--called BIKINI GIRL. Through my friendship with her, I've connected with Rich, who does a fabulous YouTube blog about travel called RICH VOYAGES. He's extremely smart with a camera, and even without that thing, he's resolved himself to convincing people to get out of their comfort zone and connect not only with their neighbors but with their worldwide friends. Anyway, he and I have forged a new friendship, and I have to thank him for constructing this interesting little mini-resume, which lets y'all know what I'm into. Again, thanks, Rich!



What do you think? Am I okay on camera? Okay, I get another shot...here's my first food review, with Rich himself as host, as we talk about Atlanta's tasty BBQ joint The Mustard Seed.