Reel Nashville 2004

By age 35, most of us seem to know where we're headed in life. The Nashville Film Festival, by contrast, which starts next Monday at Regal's Green Hills megaplex, continues to grow in all directions. More robust than ever, after nearly a decade of double-digit yearly attendance increases, the festival's programming now features more of everything: more American indies, more documentaries, more foreign films from the world's festival circuit, and particularly more films devoted to the subject of music.

But the growth, along with the proliferation of other film events in nearly every midsized town, makes it difficult for the NFF to establish its own identity. That wasn't a problem in 1969, when the festival formerly known as Sinking Creek had few rivals in the Southeast. Back then, it focused its attention on experimental and nonfiction film. Now, though, surrounded by strong fests in Memphis, Atlanta and Birmingham, NFF finds itself competing for a relatively small pool of strong films in what amounts to an alternative distribution network.

What's more, distributors don't want festival screenings to use up their films' audiences. Thus you'll get only one crack at some of the hottest films at this year's NFF: the documentaries Metallica: Some Kind of Monster and The Five Obstructions, for example, or the French splatter movie Haute Tension. Meanwhile, several strong films at NFF will have a hard time reaching an audience at all because (irony alert) they lack a distributor's publicity machine.

To help even the playing field, the Scene has previewed more than 50 selections at this year's festival, coming away with more must-sees than ever before (and a few must-avoids). We've looked at local films, foreign features, experimental and animated shorts, even a documentary about a Scandinavian men's chorus that screams every song. (It's good, too.) These blurbs are meant to inform, provoke and in some cases settle tough choices about which film to see in a hotly contested slot.

In addition, we offer some practical tips. First, buy advance tickets, especially for popular films. (Rule of thumb: Anything local, attended by celebrities, or showing only once will sell out before showtime.) See www.nashvillefilmfestival.org for information. Second, ride the buzz. Talk to as many people as you can about what they've seen—one of the main pleasures of attending a festival—and plan accordingly.

Also, take a chance on something you've never heard of, as several excellent films playing commercial runs in Nashville theaters (including Crimson Gold, Dogville and Greendale) all emerged from last year's festival circuit. And talk to as many actors and filmmakers as you can, whether at post-film Q&As, parties, or the many panels and workshops the NFF has scheduled over its seven-day run. Nothing builds a festival's reputation faster than smart, engaged audiences—which translates into better films, more visiting filmmakers and a healthier climate for movies in general, both locally and nationally.

And now, on with the show.

Capsule reviews by Donna Bowman, Steve Erickson, Jonathan Flax, Brittney Gilbert, Scott Manzler, Noel Murray, Elizabeth Orr and Jim Ridley.

♦ Highly recommended

Monday, Apr. 26

♦ Festival Express (7 p.m.) A new addition to the wealth of 1960s and '70s music-festival documentaries, which records a 1970 tour across Canada by train. Concertgoers saw The Grateful Dead, The Band, Janis Joplin, Buddy Guy, The Flying Burrito Brothers and many more for a $14 ticket—or as a promoter put it, "less than one dollar per supergroup." Thirty-three years later, director Bob Smeaton selected and edited the period footage. The result is one-third Canadian travelogue, one-third musical document (including remarkable jam footage aboard the train) and one-third memories and interviews—all essential, nostalgic and strangely sweet. Performers Bonnie Bramlett and Bernie Leadon will introduce the screening. —D.B.

Bruce Haack: The King of Techno (9:15 p.m.) The late Canadian composer Bruce Haack was the "king of techno" the way Rupert Pupkin was the King of Comedy: in his dreams. That overstated claim aside, the oddity and tragedy of Haack's career come through strongly in Philip Anagnos' eccentric documentary. For much of his life, Haack's audience consisted either of children or avant-garde musicians, who found common ground in his bizarre electronic chirps and hand-doctored instruments. If Anagnos makes a weak case for Haack's ongoing influence, he provides fascinating glimpses of his musical extremity—including Haack luxuriating in the kiddie psychedelia of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. —J.R.

♦ Screaming Men (9:15 p.m.; also 5 p.m. April 28) You would think the sight of a burly Finnish men's choir bellowing national anthems at moose-stampeding volume would cease to be funny after a few minutes. It doesn't. At least not for the duration of Mika Ronkainen's documentary. In Finnish with English subtitles. —J.R.

♦ Whose Is This Song? (9:30 p.m.; also noon April 29) A Turk, a Greek, a Macedonian, a Serb and a Bulgarian hear a song playing in a restaurant, and each immediately claims it as the product of his/her homeland. It sounds like a joke setup, but the impact of Adela Peeva's documentary is sobering. The Bulgarian filmmaker tracks the seemingly innocuous tune from country to country, expecting to discover a cultural bridge that would transcend, even unite the region's many warring factions. What she finds is rabid nationalism and personal peril—a grim rebuke to "why can't we all get along?" homilies. The final image of a dozen flickering flames flaring into flash fires seems chillingly apt. In Bulgarian, Macedonian and Turkish with English subtitles. —J.R.