by Gary M. Kramer, Staff Writer

The Tribeca Film Festival offers hundreds of documentaries, shorts, and features from around the world. Here’s a rundown of nine films screening at this year’s fest.

Chop and Steele (dir. Berndt Mader & Ben Steinbauer)

Chop and Steele is a hilarious documentary profile of professional pranksters Joe Pickett and Nick Prueher, who run the Found Footage Festival, a clip show of really bad VHS videos. (It stemmed from seeing a McDonald’s training video about cleaning.) These subversive comedians, who take pricelessly funny driver’s license photos, are first seen giving depositions after one of their segments—an appearance on a morning news show—gets them sued. But anyone who saw their fictional creation, Kenny “K-Strass” Strasser (Mark Proksch), an inept yo-yo master who teaches environmentalism to schoolchildren, surely would question Chop and Steele being strongmen whose greatest feat is stomping on flimsy straw baskets. The lawsuit, while scary, only encourages them, and their act even lands them an appearance on America’s Got Talent, which was one of the unchecked claims from their press release. Chop and Steele is an affectionate and very amusing look at what constitutes humor and the thrill of pulling off a good joke. “I feel like I’m robbing a bank,” Joe says when his pranks are actually televised. The guys are genial and candid as they spitball mischievous ideas, consider shaving Joe’s head to replicate male patterned baldness, or when Nick discusses his pet dog’s penis. In addition, comedians/pranksters Bobcat Goldthwait, David Cross, Reggie Watts, and The Yes Men, comment on the lines comics can cross. Chop and Steele will charm Nick and Joe’s fanbase, but it should also generate new admirers. 

Nude Tuesday (dir. Armagan Ballantyne)

Nude Tuesday is an absurdist fictional comedy, set in a fictional place, with the characters speaking entirely in a made-up, gibberish language. (All the dialogue is translated and amusingly subtitled; for example, when a man is aroused, the text reads: “You biggened my mister.”) Directed by Armagan Ballantyne, who co-wrote the screenplay with Jackie van Beek, the story has married with kids couple Laura (van Beek) and Bruno (Damon Herriman) both “sick of life.” When his mother gives them a gift certificate to a couple’s retreat for their anniversary, they agree to go to see if they can save their marriage. But they get off on the wrong foot at the retreat, and old tensions quickly surface prompting them to possibly separate. What’s more, Laura finds herself attracted to Bjorg (Jemaine Clement), the retreat’s leader—though he does interrupt the handjob she is giving him to take a call about bespoke parkas. Meanwhile, Bruno is fighting with Rufus (Ian Zaro), another guest, and they are forced to take a hike to resolve their differences. When Rufus doses Bruno, things get a bit weird. Nude Tuesday does have fun satirizing the men’s movement, and there are some belly laughs generated by some very inappropriate dialogue—or whenever Louis (Chris Bunton), an assistant at the retreat, is on screen. That said, some of the humor misses the mark as it aims at broad, obvious targets. However, true to its title, Nude Tuesday does deliver on getting the entire cast fully naked for a climactic/cathartic trip to an ice pond that provides a nice payoff for this quirky deadpan comedy. 

We Might As Well Be Dead (dir. Natalia Sinelnikova)

We Might As Well Be Dead, from Germany and Romania, is a stinging social comedy, set in a housing community where people are not allowed to be “unsocial, immoral, or inconsiderate.” So of course, there is plenty of bad behavior to magnify the way humans respond to control. Anna (Ioana Iacob) is a security officer at St. Phoebus, and her daughter, Iris (Pola Geiger) is living in the bathroom and won’t come out. (She is upset about a missing dog). One comic sequence has Anna racing to find an appropriate bathroom. At a St. Phoebus Day event, Gerti Posner (Jörg Schüttauf) is disruptive and punished—he is sent to live outside that night. Anna makes sure everyone is safe and secure and away from danger, but one night she causes trouble when a couple, Erika (Susanne Wuest) and Martin (Knut Berger) Drescher are disturbed by Anna’s actions. Soon, there is a hunt for the “intruder” and Anna, a Jew, is mistrusted by the homeowners. Director/cowriter Natalia Sinelnikova films everything with a sterile, detached eye—there are some terrifically framed compositions—that reveal the crucible of St. Phoebus as a hotbed for xenophobia. If the film says nothing new about the perils of conformity and authoritarianism, it does show how its residents are focused on self-preservation—especially when it comes to issues of class. 

Karaoke (dir. Moshe Rosenthal)

Karaoke contains only a few scenes of characters singing to express their emotions, but this engrossing Israeli film is full of feeling. Meir (Sasson Gabay) and his wife Tova (Rita Shukrun) are in a rut. When they meet their ingratiating neighbor, Itzik (Lior Ashkenazi) for a karaoke night in his penthouse apartment, both come away feeling special. Meir, in particular, develops a bromantic love for Itzik. (He gets jealous when he sees Itzik with another neighbor.) As Meir steps out of his comfort zone, he grows, going on an acting audition, or hanging out at Itzak’s even doing coke. But despite being buoyed by this new, energizing friendship, Itzik disappoints the couple with some bad behavior. He also irritates some other neighbors. Karaoke is a comedy of manners that shows how people hide their authenticity and confront their inadequacies, as well as the impact of guilt and shame. As the characters feel foolish or become disillusioned with their lives, they find the wherewithal for self-change. Sasson Gabay gives a very soulful performance, and he is matched by the flawless Rita Shukrun as Tova. The look she gives him the morning after he makes love to her speaks volumes. As Itzik, Lior Ashkenazi is incredibly charming, even when he drops his guard. Karaoke is a melancholic comedy, but it is a winner.  

Sansón and Me (dir. Rodrigo Reyes)

Sansón and Me is director Rodrigo Reyes’ poignant and lyrical documentary about Sansón Noé Andrade, who at 19, was sentenced to life without parole for his participation in a gang-related killing. Reyes was Sansón’s interpreter at the trial, and the filmmaker wanted to get to know this young man better. The documentary, Reyes indicated, is not being made to help get Sansón freed, the filmmaker insists; nor it is an attack on him. Sansón and Me uses recreations with the prisoner’s family members to recount his life story, from his childhood in Tecomán, Mexico and his father’s death, to living with his abusive grandmother and being sent to an orphanage. Eventually he migrates to the United States, thanks to an aunt, where Sansón has both advantages and difficulties. His tragedy unfolds as details about the crime are revealed (though viewers may have questions about what transpired). Reyes interviews Sansón, who cannot appear on screen, and he talks about everything from making tamales in prison to his regrets about leaving his own child fatherless. Reyes provides an empathetic ear and shares elements of his own life with Sansón, whom he truly befriends. This is a sad, sobering film, about lives that are wasted. Reyes features important issues about how young immigrants grapple with poverty and a lack of education, as well as how they encounter situations around gang life that could land them in prison. 

The Visitor (dir. Martín Boulocq)

The Visitor, from Bolivia, starts out slowly—very slowly—but that does not make it anything less than entrancing. Humberto (Enrique Aráoz) is returning to Cochabamba hoping to (re)gain custody of his daughter, Aleida (Svet Ailyn Mena). She is living with her grandparents, Carlos (César Troncoso), an Evangelical pastor, and his wife, Elizabeth (Mirella Pascual), in a gated community. They try to keep Humberto away from his daughter—or at least supervise (or minimize) his visits. While it becomes clear that Aleida’s mother is dead, The Visitor takes time before it reveals that Humberto has been released from prison. He is also three years sober. The film chronicles Humberto’s efforts to sell cell phone cards—because he earns too little singing for corpses—to “save” his daughter who is under the influence of Carlos and Elizabeth. Director and cowriter Martín Boulocq creates a subtle character study which rewards close attention. An intense scene of Humberto on stage in Carlos’ church being “rid of demons” is mesmerizing as it depicts the real power struggle between these two men. However, other private moments, such as Humberto singing opera, or cooking with his daughter, reveal the dignity of a man trying to manage against forces of oppression. Aráoz, in his film debut, gives a forceful performance, expressing the weight of guilt and the glimmer of hope he needs to face each difficult day.  

January (dir. Viesturs Kairiss)

January unfolds in Riga and Vilnius in the first month of 1991, when Latvia was fighting for independence from the Soviet Union. Jazis (Karlis Arnolds Avots) is 19 and movie-mad, watching his fill of Bergman, Jarmusch, and Tarkovsky. He considers being a filmmaker and carries a camera wherever he can. Jazis attends classes as a film school, and meets Anna (Alise Danovska), beginning a relationship with her. But he is also considering military service as he has been conscripted. The film, directed by Viesturs Kairiss, and based on his life, is mostly episodic as Jazis comes of age/gets wisdom, experiencing jealousy when Anna connects with a local filmmaker, (Juhan Ulfsak) or becomes more aware of the political situation as he films tanks rolling through the streets or protestors building barricades. January captures both the youthful exuberance of Jazis and his friends being punks in a café, as well as grappling with the harsh reality of death and disillusionment. Kairiss uses Super-8 footage to augment Jazis’ emotions, and a shot of Jazis and Anna going swimming—it looks like a surreal landscape—is dazzling. January is a personal story told with style and heart.

88 (dir. Eromose)

88 is a compelling drama by the mono-monikered writer/director Eromose, that like its hero, Femi (Brandon Victor Dixon), takes on more than it can chew. As the financial director of a Super PAC supporting presidential candidate Harold Roundtree (Orlando Jones), Femi is dubbed “The Black Rain Man” by his pal Ira (Thomas Sadoski) because of his penchant for reading patterns in numbers. When he recognizes that 75% of the donations to the PAC are “coded”—the numbers add up to 88—he goes down a rabbit hole and into white supremacist groups, Nazi history, and more. Is Roundtree aware of this unfortunate connection? And should he bow out of the race? 88 addresses this point with cynicism, but it also incorporates as many issues as it can, with each scene recounting a lesson. There is an animated presentation on the Super PAC court case “Citizens United v FEC” to a scene of Femi teaching his son Ola (Jeremiah King) about the police, to discussions how Nixon’s War on Drugs targeted race and a scene with an ex-felon’s lack of rights. Femi meets with his sponsor (Kenneth Choi), who advocates to Stop Asian Hate and addresses the model minority stereotype, while Ira explains “echoes,” a way of targeting Jews. There are about 88 topics total, including a diatribe against Wakanda, expertly given by Femi’s no-nonsense wife, Maria (a superb Naturi Naughton). A parallel storyline has Ron Holt (William Fichtner, in Charlie Rose mode) interviewing Roundtree and unpacking his privilege. (The parallels to Obama feel forced—and not in a good way.) 88 can be preachy and didactic, but it is never uninteresting. Moreover, there are scenes, such as one where Femi meets with Hans Muller (Jonathan Weir), that are fascinating. Working with a low budget, Eromose has made a topical, political conspiracy thriller that offers a modicum of thrills but more than enough food for thought, which is not a bad thing.

Good Girl Jane (dir. Sarah Elizabeth Mintz)

Good Girl Jane is an overlong and underwhelming drama about the title character (Rain Spencer), a lonely teenager in L.A. Jane has just moved to a new school following a bullying incident at a private school she attended. She starts hanging out with a questionable crowd. Writer/director Sarah Elizabeth Mintz expands her 2017 short (based on actual events) to show how Jane falls under the spell of Jamie (Patrick Gibson), a charismatic drug dealer. However, much of this episodic film is tedious. Jane parties and gets high with her friends. She has sex with Jamie. She fights with her mother (Andie McDowell). The film looks like it might turn a corner when Jane acknowledges her drug use, but she continues on her downward spiral. Good Girl Jane provides viewers with a sociological study of depressed youth numbing their pain, but the film fails to provide much insight. Spencer is captivating to watch, but the film she is in, unfortunately, is not.