The Myth of the American Sleepover

Late one night, in the waning days of summer, a boy and a girl sit on a floating dock just offshore from a high school party.  The girl, about to enter her freshman year, explains that she skipped a friend’s slumber party to be there.  The boy, about to be a junior, extols the virtues of slumber parties, and mourns the loss of childhood that comes with moving onto the more teenage pursuits of high school parties and social status.  “I don’t want you to buy into all this youthful adventure bullshit,” he explains.  The air of wistful mourning for innocence lost colours every frame of writer/director David Roger Mitchell’s The Myth of the American Sleepover.  Not necessarily mourning by the characters, but always by the director and, by extension, the film itself.  

My Winnipeg

“What if I film my way out of here?”

Any film that calls itself a  “docu-fantasia” is sure to have the eyes rolling like a slot machine.  The opening of the film doesn’t assuage the fears that this is going to be indulgent, ‘art-house’ (read: student film) sludge.  A blend of black and white photos, black and white footage of a man asleep on a train with rear-screen projection in the background, and the narration that continuously repeats the word “Winnipeg” over images old maps of the city’s four rivers (called the ‘Lap’) and a woman’s bare pelvic area (don’t want to be crude) had me slouching on the couch and audibly sighing.  What a joy and a surprise to discover how the film turned out!  It is never miles away from the opening, but it does give an excellent argument in favour of art-house self-indulgence.

The Wrestler

He’s down and out. The world he has invested his life in has left him stranded. He’s just too damn old. He now has to pick up the pieces of what he left behind. Reconnect with the daughter. Make a move on the girl. Find meaning in things he didn’t pay attention to before. He discovers what really matters in life. The redemptive tale is well-trodden territory. The trailer for The Wrestler works very hard to give us the redemptive tale impression. The film isn’t strictly like that, but we can’t blame the marketing. After all, an action film trailer should show the exciting explosions, a comedy trailer should show the funny moments, and an “important, intelligent” indie film trailer should show why the experience will be palatable to a mainstream crowd. The Wrestler is better than your standard indie fare, however, and even though it falls into some pretty standard traps, I hope the trailer doesn’t put anyone off.