Variety
October 8, 2007 – October 14, 2007
THE BLUE HOUR
by JONATHAN HOLLAND
A Knappmiller/Ramirez, Blue Hour production. (International sales:
Knappmiller/Ramirez, Arcadia, Calif.) Produced by Lynette Ramirez,
Brian Knappmiller. Executive producer, Nick Slatkin.
Directed, written by Eric Nazarian. Camera (color, widescreen), Sam
Levy; editors, Helen Hand, Emily Koonse; music, Aldo Shllaku;
production designer, Tim Grimes; sound, Jeremy Peirson. Reviewed at
San Sebastian Film Festival (Zabaltegi New Directors), Madrid, Sept.
24 2007 . Running time: 93 MIN.
With: Emily Rios, Alyssa Milano, Yorick Van Wageningen, Clarence
Williams III, Derrick O’Connor, Paul Dillon, Sophie Malki.
Four quietly told tales about loss, three of them about death and the
solitude it brings, make up "The Blue Hour," a well-turned,
melancholy item set on and around the Los Angeles River. Largely
dialogue-free, the pic shuns histrionics, instead generating its
gathering emotional force via carefully crafted images and sharp
editing, though it fails to reap the potential benefits of the
decision to tie its yarns together. "Hour" reps a strong calling card
for debutante Eric Nazarian, and could find an extended afterlife on
the fest circuit.
In the pic’s most upbeat strand, ironically named Happy (Emily Rios)
is a Mexican kid who escapes her parents’ domestic bickering by
spray-painting graffiti on the banks of the river to the
accompaniment of headphone hip-hop. A homeless man (Paul Dillon) —
a one-time astronomy professor whose acquaintance she briefly makes
— is killed by a hit and run driver.
The second, emotionally richer, story focuses on a camera repairman,
bear-like but tender Armenian Avo (Yorick Van Wageningen), trying to
come to terms with the death of his 4-year-old daughter Heidi (Sophie
Malki). Communication between Avo and traumatized wife Allegra
("Charmed" star Alyssa Milano) has broken down. Much of this story is
told in flashback, giving it a narrative depth absent from the other
sections.
In the third, weakest section, blues street musician Ridley (Clarence
Williams III) cares for his ailing mother and is haunted by the
singing coming from another room in the old hotel where he lives.
Fourth yarn takes us through the routine of kindly old Humphrey
(Derrick O’Connor) as he prepares for his daily lunch by his wife’s
grave.
The characters are briefly aware of one another across stories, but
to little discernible dramatic consequence. So tenuous are the
connections between them that the stories could have been kept apart
with no real loss of substance. In a film dealing so explicitly with
feelings, the script could have shed a section and found time to
bring out the emotional nuances of the remaining interactions more
strongly.
Pic is best seen as a linked series of quiet, telling moments —
Ridley playing the guitar at his dying mother’s bedside, Yorick
looking across the river at Happy’s graffiti of a sad clown, Happy
looking up through the dead prof’s telescope.
Dialogue does good work when it comes. Much of the pic shows
characters walking through the streets alone, which visually starts
to pall by the Ridley section.
All perfs are suitably muted, as is the minimalist score. Strikingly
composed images of the river as it winds through the city thankfully
do not seem to be aiming for symbolism. Pic features a cameo by ’60s
Brit singer Eric Burdon, banging out the blues in a local bar.