AUGUST EVENING - A Gem in Need of a Little Polishing
 Written by: Naomi Wiggins

With a too-long script, moments of sheer beauty followed promptly by dragging boredom and a cast full of relatively inexperienced/non-actors, the independently produced and directed August Evening could have easily been destined for disaster. But in this first feature film from newly minted UCLA alum Chris Eska, this (overly) ambitious writer, director and editor manages to scale the bumps, snags and trip-ups the entertainment industry has long come to expect from first time filmmakers and paints a portrait of the human condition that is so honest and real it hurts.

The best and most famous philosophers have pondered whether art reflects reality or reality reflects art. And while some would question the very idea that film is indeed art, much less care whether it reflects reality or visa versa, August Evening charges straight into the realm of art and forges on into a reality that is neither self-importantly puffed up nor overwrought with imagined drama, fake excitement and outlandish adventure that ultimately has no place in our daily lives. As Eska himself so beautifully puts it, the film seeks to "express emotions that are frequently absent from films today but are ubiquitous in our real lives."

Though absent from most big studio productions, the honest contemplation of the layers of our human condition is ironically something that Hollywood craves. For after premiering at the 2007 LA Film Festival, Eska's feature film debut not only snagged the coveted Target Narrative Filmmaker Award but has since been picked up by Maya Entertainment for an as yet to be determined release schedule. It would seem that the insatiable Hollywood can indeed recognize the means to satisfaction and gratification in spite of itself.

Shot in Spanish, the story of August Evening is remarkably and refreshingly simple. Jamie (Pedro Castaneda) is an undocumented farm worker who lives not in comfort but at ease with his wife and daughter-in-law Lupe (Veronica Loren) in the vast country landscapes of Texas. After suddenly losing both wife and job in quick succession, Jamie is failing to make ends meet and finds that he and Lupe have no other choice but to humbly ask his biological children for their help and support.

First moving in with Jamie's son Victor (Abel Becerra) and then later with his daughter Alice (Sandra Rios), the duo knows instinctively, and through not so subtle hints, that they are neither wanted nor do they belong in either local. Despite a connection with local butcher Luis (Walter Perez), Lupe lands both house and job, moving the now ailing Jamie back to the country. However, as a subtly blossoming love refuses to simply go away, Lupe must decide whether she will begin a new life with Luis or remain steadfast in her care and devotion to Jamie.

At first glance it would seem that these two options are not and do not need to be mutually exclusive. And if this was indeed the case, the turning point, the fearful tension, the crisis moment upon which the entire film rests, would be null and void. All the worry and concern would be ultimately unnecessary, lending an irrelevant feel to both story and film. But upon further reflection, it is clear that Lupe must make a choice . . . for the reality Eska has so clearly pursued wouldn't have it any other way.

Overflowing with the beautiful handiwork of cinematographer Yasu Tanida throughout, August Evening's best scenes come from Lupe and Luis's impromptu visit to the county fair. Warm and encircling colors, impressive shots of glorious fireworks and intimate voiceover make the pair's blossoming romance all the more sweet. Both cinematography and editing are complimented by a phenomenally big, blossoming and grand score that not only fills up the vast Texas landscape but mirrors the depth of character and emotional fervor seen in both Lupe and Jamie.

Understated and quiet, the performances are good though not great. Veronica Loren brings a soft and natural presence to Lupe but falls a bit too far on the side of subtly in the displaying of her affection for Luis. I believed she was falling in love with Luis mostly because I was falling in love with Luis. Pedro Castaneda is sensitive and genuine but his inexperience is unfortunately evident when on the multiple occasions that it is up to him to carry a scene, the moment falls undeniably flat.

However, while August Evening would have benefited from tighter editing, a healthy trimming of the script and a few shifts in performance, there is no doubt of the talent and skill displayed by Writer, Director and Editor Chris Eska. He, much like his film, is simply in need of some refinement before he can fully and completely shine.

August Evening 

 RATATOUILLE - Yet Another Honest, Winsome and Smart Disney Pixar Success
 Written by: Naomi Wiggins

For anyone who has harbored a dream that garnered not only disapproval but derision from beloved family and friends, Remy the rat's steadfast hope and fearless determination to follow the prompting of his heart no matter the consequences may inspire you to keep on keeping on. After all, you may think you have it bad, but at least you're not a rat.

Continuing the streak of winning, smart and authentic animation films begun with the memorable Toy Story in 1995, the Disney Pictures and Pixar Entertainment production Ratatouille builds upon the impressive foundation of A Bug's Life, Monsters Inc., Finding Nemo, The Incredibles and Cars with obvious success. Though perhaps not brimming with characters as winsome as the loveable Sulley or as endearing as the irrepressible Nemo, Writer/Director Brad Bird's Ratatouille nonetheless has all the marks of a Disney Pixar success.

What could be more unconventional than for a rat to not only have good taste but wish to share that taste with the world? Idealistic, audacious and just slightly crazy, Remy (Patton Oswalt) believes that his dream of culinary mastery can be realized despite his four paws and mile-long whiskers. After all, as his idol Chef Gusteau (Brad Garret) says, "Anyone can cook."

After an escapade in the country with a gas-mask wearing, shotgun bearing Granny separates Remy from his family and friends, the dreamer finds himself in the city of lights, mere inches from the wonderful and legendary, though recently fallen from grace, Gusteau's Restaurant. Peeking in on the staff and the newly arrived bus boy Linguini (Lou Romano), Remy can't help but fix a dish that Linguini has accidentally spoiled. His audacity costs him as he is spotted by the staff, caught in a glass jar and toted towards a watery grave in the river.

Linguini however is in desperate need of a helping hand and recognizes that, odd as it seems, Remy could be the answer he's been looking for. As the two begin a splendid partnership that puts Gusteau's promptly back on the map, the only person dissatisfied with the blossoming success is Head Chef Skinner (Ian Holm). Hiding a lucrative frozen dinners franchise under Gusteau's name, Skinner is mere weeks away from seizing full control of the restaurant and wants nothing out of the ordinary to upend his plan.

As expected, things complicate themselves, wind up, wind down, twist into love and then spiral into vanity all before the final critique of restaurant and food given by the most famous and feared food critic in all of Paris - Anton Ego (Peter O'Toole).

What is so amazing about Ratatouille is the fact that despite some pretty typical plot twists the film refuses to wind to a flawlessly perfect happily ever after ending. Between struggles amidst Remy's enormous rat family, the woes of inter-kitchen politics and the heart-sickness of a dream deferred, Ratatouille is infused with a healthy dose of reality. It refuses to idolize a far off and ultimately unachievable ideal and instead points quietly to the fact that sometimes what we think we want is not always what is ultimately best.

Pixar again meets its own stellar animation standards. The lights, the sounds, the attitude and mood present in each painstakingly sketched frame by frame drawing all point beautifully and succinctly toward Paris. And Michael Silvers and Randy Thom should be applauded for their sound design as the pitter-patter of rat paws was so dead on I found myself picking my feet off the floor of the theatre - just in case.

Above all however, I must comment on the wonderful character of Anton Ego. Despite his ghastly appearance, forbidding attitude and unnerving stare, I recognized a kindred soul for the critic's life is a rather lonely life. Seeming like wicked fun and a startlingly easy way to make a living, the bottom line is that it is still criticism - it still consists of the picking apart of someone's heart and soul, the dissecting of an endlessly worked on project, ultimately giving it either the stamp of approval or a curt dismissal.

It is easy to abuse this privilege (dare I say curse?) of criticism - easier still to wonder if it really means anything in the long run. For critics may attempt to shine a light on the difference between good and bad, to show the intricate details that make quality . . . quality - but ultimately a critic's work, however eloquent, shining and profound, comes to nothing more than a solitary opinion swirling amidst many others. Only the lucky ones like Anton Ego receive revelation.

Perhaps one day, I'll be so lucky.

Ratatouille