by SARAH ROWLAND

Uncovered: The War on Iraq should be mandatory viewing for every American before heading to the polls. Just like Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11, filmmaker Robert Greenwald denounces Dubya's bogus justification for preemptive bombing. But unlike Moore, he doesn't rely on emotional pleas from hysterical moms and funny songs to lighten the mood. Nor does he use gimmicky editing techniques, such as superimposing the Bushes on Bonanza characters. In other words, there is nothing sexy or sensational about this strangely compelling documentary.

Off camera and without voiceover, Greenwald meticulously uncovers every unscrupulous tactic that Bush employed to rally support on the homefront. The only visuals Greenwald uses are news clips of Republican propaganda juxtaposed with rebuttal testimony from extremely patriotic, politically diverse experts, who have a combined total of over 400 years experience working for Uncle Sam.

"I think we all underestimate the audience at times," says Greenwald, who is the founder of Artists United to Win Without War. "I mean this is not easy material. I don't sugarcoat it. I don't put it in a wrapping that makes it more digestible. I figured there would be an audience for it but I had no idea it would be so large."

As part of a trilogy - which includes Unconstitutional: The War on Our Civil Liberties and Unprecedented: The 2000 Presidential Election - Greenwald's exposé has attracted worldwide attention and for the most part it's all been positive feedback. But as in the case of Moore, he has been accused of presenting a totally one-sided point of view.

Greenwald disagrees. "The only debate we would get would be two generals on television arguing, ‘Should we bomb them or should we go in by land,'" he says, referring to the Stars and Stripes media coverage during the build-up to the war. "So the notion that this little film, which was a tiny antidotal effort to balance the millions and millions of people and the messaging and money from other side, should have included more from Bush administration is to me frankly certifiable."

Despite having distinctly different artistic approaches to documentaries, Moore and Greenwald respect each other's work and have been known to occasionally run into each other at certain social functions.

"We marched together at the Republican convention demonstration in New York," he says. "It was funny. The organizers were putting groups together like, ‘Unions, go over there, the gay contingent, over here.' So then the two of us were just left to represent the filmmakers faction and in his wonderful humorous way, Michael laughingly said, ‘We're a small subset.''

As part of a special presentation, Uncovered: The War on Iraq, Unconstitutional: The War on Our Civil Liberties and Unprecedented: The 2000 Presidential Election will screen at Cinéma du Parc Sunday, Oct. 24

Dying for airtime

>> Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession tunes into the legacy of a suicidal cable programmer

by SARAH ROWLAND

Back when video stores were mostly ma 'n' pa operations and movie channels were just getting their first whiff of global domination, a film's life depended solely on first-run ticket sales. Two weeks of empty theatres and that reel was gone, never to be seen again. But then along came Jerry Harvey.

He was the obsessive programmer of a commercial-free, L.A.-based cable station, Z Channel. Throughout his '80–'88 tenure, Harvey dedicated himself to championing obscure independent cinema and big budget flops that were unjustly massacred by North American critics. Many credit him for helping to resurrect slumping careers like that of Robert Altman during his post-Popeye/ pre-The Player period.

The crazed cable guy was also the first to expose American audiences to foreign filmmakers like Dutch perv Paul Verhoeven. As well, Harvey played a hand in saving films that were on the brink of oblivion, namely Once Upon a Time in America. Sergio Leone's epic went from cracking several top-10-worst-film lists to becoming a celebrated classic shortly after his director's cut was aired on Z.

Pay-per-who?

Since the channel only had about 100,000 loyal subscribers, it wasn't how many were watching but who. The best reception was in Hollywood, where VIP residents and their brats were staying in at night to watch one of the many film festivals on Z. One of those loyal viewers was Xan Cassavetes, the daughter of John Cassavetes and Gena Rowlands.

"That period coincided with the time when I was sneaking out of the house and getting grounded, so I watched Z Channel a lot," says Xan in her husky phone voice. "They were some of the greatest years of my life."

That's why she decided to make it the subject of her first feature-length documentary, Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession. When she first started researching, she only intended to explore the station's influence on studio execs and future filmmakers. In fact, she didn't even know Harvey's name, let alone his personal tragedy, which is just as compelling as his professional legacy. It turns out the psychotically devoted cine-maniac who breathed, ate and shat film, shot his wife and himself days before he was to testify in a lawsuit against HBO for allegedly using its muscle to keep films out of Z's reach.

As a result, her doc is more like two interdependent films. But she artfully links both subjects by weaving beautiful rare movie clips; footage of film geeks, reciting lines from Z movies; and interviews with Harvey's closest friends, who are only now coming to terms with what he did.

"I think for the first 15 years after it happened everybody had trouble accepting that they had ever felt love for this man, but they did and that love was real," she says. "But they felt betrayed by him for killing someone who was innocent and beautiful. They didn't know how to morally or emotionally get their minds around what he did."

As well as working through the wreckage and cinematic heritage Harvey left behind, Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession showcases Xan's burgeoning talent as a storyteller. But she says her skills as an up-and-coming filmmaker aren't something she acquired from Z or even her father. Not directly, anyway.

"When my dad was alive, I regret to say that I was only interested in watching films. I wasn't interested in making them because I was a musician, a seriously devout militant musician," she says. "But I wished I had watched him closer and talked to him more about the questions that I want to ask him now. What I did learn from him, though, was the way he looked at people. He and my mother were both really curious about what people might be going through or feeling. And that was a really nice gift: an interest in other people."

Z Channel: A Magnificent Obsession screens at Cinéma du Parc Saturday, Oct. 23 at 9 p.m.

New cinema picks

>> Warhol's superstar and Solondz's Aviva

by SARAH ROWLAND

Superstar in a Housedress

Craig Highberger's film Superstar in a Housedress: The Life and Legend of Jackie Curtis, which won best documentary at the 2004 Toronto film fest, looks back on one of Andy Warhol's most accomplished superstars, Jackie Curtis. As a critically acclaimed satirist playwright in NYC's experimental theatre scene during the '70s, Curtis was considered a creative genius. But the junked-out transvestite with the gentle eyes of a fawn and the shoulders of a linebacker was also considered a fashion pioneer. Long before Ziggy Stardust and Johnny Rotten, Curtis was dowsing his body in glitter on stage and tearing his clothes apart, only to reassemble them with safety pins. Poser or not, watching this film is the most punk rock thing you can do this week. (SR)

Palindromes

Say good-bye to Dawn Wiener and say hello to Aviva, a 12-year-old, pro-life assassin. The opening scene of Todd Solondz's latest film is home video footage of Wiener's funeral. With the heroine of Welcome to the Doll House out of the way, the award-winning director introduces his newest pre-teen freak of nature, Aviva. This emotionally disturbed misfit runs away from home after her mother forces her to get an abortion. This leads her to a family of Born Agains, who take in stray runaways by day and kill gynecologists by night. One of the most intriguing aspects of this film is that Aviva's identity changes from scene to scene. One minute she is a 400-pound black chick, then she wakes up a lisping Jewish frump and for the third and final act she's Jennifer Jason Leigh. (Never the same on the outside but always the same manic depressive on the inside seems to be the message.) Judging by all the whispers and fidgeting at the press screening, this will surely be one of the most controversial films at the fest. (SR)

Festival du Nouveau Cinéma screens until Sunday, Oct. 24. For fest info, visit www.fcmm.com

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