One of the more interesting chats during SXSW Interactive happened between HDNet (and other things) owner Mark Cuban and Boxee founder Avner Ronen. Aside from the fire alarm that went off during the chat that forced a momentary evacuation of the premises, there were plenty of fireworks that amounted to The Big Question floating throughout SXSWi: how do you monetize a streaming model and not go out of business? Cuban was adamant that even though the internet piecemeal strategy Ronen is embracing serves more people in a better way, that he could still make better money sticking with the Network Zombie model. I find it hilarious that what's touted as the greatest achievement in home viewing tech over the last ten years is the capability to record, pause, and fast forward content, which we could all do with a VCR (albeit at much lower quality and precision). It's no secret that I've long been a proponent of re-packaging the perception of what "On Demand" is and following the lead that so many home DVRs are advancing: let the consumer be the programmer. I hate being stuck with a cable package that I use virtually none of with the exception of major networks and a few cable channels. I want more control over what I pay for what I want, and even with a DVR, I hate having to make sure that I set a recording in advance and navigate (at best) clunky interfaces that give me fits. It's double-silly that I can't access content from anywhere in the world, like the actual BBC channels and not just the repackaged "BBC America". By the end of the chat, I think Ronen made a significant amount of progress wearing Cuban down to an "I'll consider it" point. The terrible thing is that it's all feasible and doable both from a bandwidth and tech perspective, and the public wants it, but until the content hermits come down off the mountain, we won't get anywhere.

I wrote up this one for my friends over at The Playlist. Here's a taste: "Broken Social Scene is a band created and ruled by the force of chaos. I'm not as familiar with their entire body of work as I should be, but am instead more of a follower of their offshoots/co-conspirators (Leslie Feist, Stars). SXSW hosted the world premiere of This Movie Is Broken, which is part BSS concert doc and part narrative love story. Even though I'm not a die-hard fan of the band, I was really quite taken by the whole endeavor."

Talking to a friend, I jokingly referred to this movie as the third part of the Patrick Wilson Impotence Trilogy, after Hard Candy and Watchmen. Barry Munday is named after the title character, an archetypical douchebag jerk. Wilson eschews any vestiges of his generally perceived persona: that of a reasonably well-educated, attractive nice guy. Every night, Barry goes out to a bar, gets drunk, and relives his late teenage years on repeat. By day, he works in an insurance office for Lonnie Green (Billy Dee Williams). He spends every waking moment chasing tail, down to every stray thought. He makes one of his trademark bad choices and ends up in the hospital the next morning having lost both testicles. On top of that, he's served with a letter from the lawyer of one Ginger Farley (Judy Greer) saying that he fathered a child by her. As for supporting cast, Jean Smart does a bang-up job as Barry's mom, Cybill Shepard and Malcolm McDowell pop up as Ginger's dress-alike parents, and Chloe Sevigny is very effective as Ginger's slutty, jealous sister. The standout for me, though, was Shea Wigham (Splinter) as Barry's douchebag best pal. He's not a household name, but Wigham does great work. My wife mentioned before seeing the movie that there would probably be less problems in the world if there were some sort of Douchebag Castration Law on the books. Of course, then you get into the problem of interpretation possibly de-balling a bunch of non-douchebags, and then where would we be? The big question tied to the movie's success is, whether he overcomes his jerkface tendencies or not, if Barry's journey is realistic in the face of the movie being a comedy (very broad in places). For me, it's as satisfying as The 40-Year-Old Virgin, and more believable than Knocked Up in many respects. Not every jerk like Barry will end up the way he does, but you believe the journey of this guy under these circumstances. The movie could make a studio a fair amount of cash pitching it as the comedy that takes down the King of the Douchebags.

On Twitter and in public, I've already been assailed as trying to project my own beliefs onto how successful this documentary is. I only saw it two days ago. I should have had something posted on it yesterday, but it just didn't do much other than disappoint me, so I've avoided writing about it out of annoyed indifference. I've fully confirmed what friends who caught the first screening told me: the movie is weak tea. What could have been a fairly-balanced "trial" of Lucas and his actions instead undercuts itself completely in the closing 15-20 minutes. The structure of the film chronologically follows Lucas' life and career. It basks in the glow and glory of the early life of Star Wars and proceeds into the era of the Special Editions and the prequels. Too many talking heads to count chime in, with the most direct and efficient being Some Came Running's Glenn Kenny. He digs at the heart of the most indisputable argument to be made against Lucas: regardless of the fact that he created and owns Star Wars, he's committed an act of gross vandalism by "destroying" the original version of his first trilogy. The most compelling minutes are spent holding up the utter hypocrisy at play when Lucas insists that the "incomplete" versions no longer exist, and that it's his right to change the historical record however he chooses. People vs. George Lucas is a better document of the fan culture than it is any sort of thesis on the man himself. The movie serves as a primer to both sides of various arguments about Lucas, but pads out the runtime with tons of fan films and takes an extended side-trip to the story of the Raiders of the Lost Ark: The Adaptation fan film. After nailing Lucas on various fronts and appearing to build toward something, the fourth part of the film falls back to "but guys, he did give us Star Wars, and it is pretty awesome, right?" TPvGL presents an airtight case and then drops the charges for ridiculous sentimental reasons. The only way I can wrap my head around this logic is that the heavy seasoning of info about the fan culture throughout is intended to serve as the argument in favor of absolving all sins, but that's a load of shit. On DVD & Blu-ray, we have four cuts of Blade Runner, three of Brazil, three of Close Encounters, and two each of E.T. and THX1138. Lucas is so insecure with the theatrical release versions of Star Wars that all we have are non-anamorphic widescreen "bonus disc" versions that are completely unrestored even though such material exists. Theoretical Blu-ray editions of the original trilogy will likely forego the original cuts entirely. Even this ridiculous oversight is watered down by the decision to forgive all transgressions by the overly-reverent makers of TPvGL. "Let's have a debate" doesn't mean "let's make some arguments but then chicken out, act like nothing happened, and be pals." As much time as TPvGL spends talking about the re-editing of the Holy Trilogy, the misnomer title makes me wish I could edit this movie down to only the sections that deal with background on Lucas and the hypocrisy in his alleged crimes against the cinema. Honestly, just give me a the Glenn Kenny & Francis Coppola bits, the clips from Spaced, and the British guy who makes the Lucas-handjob analogy and I'm good. The argument that this is a good introduction to the ongoing fan debate only holds water in a vacuum. Who, precisely, has no point of reference whatsoever to this? Newborn infants or children who don't care and love Jar-Jar Binks? Of those who would care, who hasn't already participated in their own iterations of all the arguments presented? Those disposed toward forgiving will forgive, and the prosecution will not relent in its disapproval. Being elated that an argument you've had with friends for years is now a movie isn't enough for me to find much compelling about this work. There was lots of potential here, but they chucked it right out the window. The People vs. George Lucas is all hat and no cattle.

The sleeper hit of SXSW has easily been The Happy Poet, a locally-shot microbudget feature about a man, a food cart, and a dream. Admittedly, that synopsis doesn't do the movie justice, but in terms of barebones components, that's what it's about. It's handily sold out both of its first two screenings and has one left tonight. The sense of humor is like an ultra-dry white wine that makes you smack the roof of your mouth with your tongue. The pace is very deliberately patient and quiet in many places. They let many scenes and shots just open up and breathe, and it gives the movie again, the quality of a particularly perfect bottle of wine. So many modern indies just turn into guzzlefests, after which you know you're drunk. In the moment think you're having fun, but the experience becomes forgettable and/or regrettable. The Happy Poet sticks with you well enough that you feel like you can still taste it days later, and are glad for it. Writer/director/star Paul Gordon plays Bill, a man with uncommon intellect who can't bring himself to submit to an "ordinary" life. He decides to open up an organic food cart called "The Happy Poet" to compete against the flood of indistinguishable hot dog stands littered across Austin. He picks up a following and a couple of assistants, and things hum along nicely. He meets an attractive young woman who digs poetry and what he's trying to do with his food cart. Going further than that would spoil the movie. The thing I like most about Poet is that it's about something. It puts forward a forceful argument about the power of an individual to affect change in the world. Few films try to do this anymore, and even fewer do so effectively. In a way, the various people and institutions that surround him with doubt and pessimism awaken a sleeping, mostly-vegetarian and organic giant. The Happy Poet is a movie about progressive ideals beating down the complacency of modern life, and it's a beautiful thing for it. When speaking with the director and some of the cast the other day (to be posted in the coming days), I told them I felt it came off very much like a European movie from the 60's and 70's, but layered with the Austin Slacker aesthetic. A generally quiet man's journey builds and builds to a decisive, life-changing event. That journey inspires you to get going and start up your own "big idea". The concern from many outside the "Austin local" sphere is that the movie is getting a lot of hometown love for being a locally-shot, locally-crewed endeavor. Every year, there are inevitably a few local productions at the festival that don't do as much for me as others likely because I know no one involved and don't get what the big deal is about. I didn't even friend-of-a-friend know any of these people before interviewing them a few days ago, and the movie fired me up big-time. The movie is nutritious, delicious, and satisfying to all who have the opportunity to let it open you up to all your vast potential. Even though the music festival has started and downtown has gotten completely nuts, SXSW attendees should make an effort to hit up the final 6:15pm screening tonight at Alamo Ritz. Movies like Poet thrive on grassroots buzz and word of mouth, so this is me doing my part. Go see it, support it, and talk about it.

Spalding Gray and Steven Soderbergh were rather good friends for some time, having worked together beginning with King of the Hill (1993). Soderbergh's latest film, And Everything is Going Fine, is a documentary eulogy and tribute to one of the great American monologists told in his own words. Eschewing title cards, voiceover narration, or talking heads of any sort, Soderbergh and editor Susan Littenberg instead drew exclusively from video recordings of Gray's performances, interviews, and just a few select home movies. The doc progresses chronologically through Gray's life with occasional jumps backward and forward. I had never seen video of most of his performances, just interviews here and there. I was to have seen Gray perform live in 2004 at Florida State University's Seven Days of Opening Nights, but his body was found shortly before the event was supposed to happen. I joked with a friend who still works at FSU that Gray had gone to extraordinary lengths to get out of his contractual obligations to the school and that hopefully they could show this film so that he would no longer be in their debt. Gray's now-17-year-old son Forrest composed the score, and it's really solid, unobtrusive work. Gray's widow Cathy said during the Q&A that Soderbergh made the film as a gift to friend he felt he wasn't there for when he was needed the most (after a terrible car wreck in Ireland). I can't think of a more appropriate tribute to Gray than letting him eulogize himself, and he does an excellent job thanks to the selections made by Soderbergh and Littenberg. As I passed along to Jeff early yesterday, one of the producers answered a question about plans to release Gray's performances on DVD by saying, "We hope to see a box set come out through The Criterion Collection in 2011, but the deal's not done yet." Gray's widow Kathie Russo added "it's a real shame that not even Swimming to Cambodia is out on DVD, so this is a great opportunity to finally get this stuff out there." And Everything is Going Fine is aiming for a November theatrical release, though I forgot to ask through whom.