Here’s the latest episode of the The Filmmakers Podcast, part of the ever-growing podcast roster here on Nerdly. If you haven’t heard the show yet, you can check out previous episodes on the official podcast site, whilst we’ll be featuring each and every new episode as it premieres.
For those unfamiliar, with the series, The Filmmakers Podcast is a podcast about how to make films from micro budget indie films to bigger budget studio films and everything in-between. Our hosts Giles Alderson, Dan Richardson, Andrew Rodger and Cristian James talk how to get films made, how to actually make them and how to try not to f… it up in their very humble opinion. Guests will come on and chat about their film making experiences from directors, writers, producers, screenwriters, actors, cinematographers and distributors.
The Filmmakers Podcast #183: How to write, direct, produce and star in your...
For those unfamiliar, with the series, The Filmmakers Podcast is a podcast about how to make films from micro budget indie films to bigger budget studio films and everything in-between. Our hosts Giles Alderson, Dan Richardson, Andrew Rodger and Cristian James talk how to get films made, how to actually make them and how to try not to f… it up in their very humble opinion. Guests will come on and chat about their film making experiences from directors, writers, producers, screenwriters, actors, cinematographers and distributors.
The Filmmakers Podcast #183: How to write, direct, produce and star in your...
- 9/28/2020
- by Phil Wheat
- Nerdly
Ineptitude abounds in this ham-fisted "thirteen" wannabe. A borderline-exploitive look at a teen girl with a serious case of acting-out, "Close Call" bills itself as a breakthrough family drama about Korean-Americans. Artistically speaking, it's nothing of the sort, but it is a family project by Korean-Americans -- directed and scripted by Jimmy Lee, starring his daughter, Annie Lee, and co-produced by another daughter, Angie, who also has a supporting role. The involvement of Jeff Fahey, as a producer and cast member, won't boost the commercial prospects of the uninvolving and often laughable film, which opens Friday in Los Angeles.
The story begins with the apparent suicide of party girl Jenny (Annie Lee) and then reels back to explain what led her to that point, positing divorce and disconnection from Korean culture as the culprits. "Close Call" achieves realistic flashes of the underage demimonde of drugs and sex, and of the reckless adolescent dynamic of wanting to be both loved and left alone, but mostly the proceedings are implausible. The dialogue, whether pedantic or ridiculous, is invariably dull.
In what must be the least multicultural public high school in Los Angeles, Jenny eschews the (unseen) Asian nerds, choosing to hang with a bad-influence crowd led by a tough-chick drug dealer, who's really a deeply wounded foster child (Faleena Hopkins, delivering the only convincing performance). Jenny's materialistic mother (Christina Ma) is in utter denial over her increasingly frequent scrapes with school authorities and the law.
To the rescue is Jenny's more tradition-bound father (Philip Moon), summoned from Seoul by his friend and attorney (Fahey). These two characters sound unintended substance-abuse alarms of their own, played as they are with an eerie, Quaalude-infused lack of energy. Dad and daughter proceed to wrestle it out, the mild-mannered savior struggling to save his child from the evils of American life while she throws shrill tantrums.
Ostensibly a vehicle for Annie Lee, the film showcases her skimpily clad good looks more than her acting. Further hampering the melodramatics, helmer Jimmy Lee insists on repetitious, usually unnecessary flashbacks, while on-the-cheap location shooting in L.A.'s Koreatown provides little sense of place.
The story begins with the apparent suicide of party girl Jenny (Annie Lee) and then reels back to explain what led her to that point, positing divorce and disconnection from Korean culture as the culprits. "Close Call" achieves realistic flashes of the underage demimonde of drugs and sex, and of the reckless adolescent dynamic of wanting to be both loved and left alone, but mostly the proceedings are implausible. The dialogue, whether pedantic or ridiculous, is invariably dull.
In what must be the least multicultural public high school in Los Angeles, Jenny eschews the (unseen) Asian nerds, choosing to hang with a bad-influence crowd led by a tough-chick drug dealer, who's really a deeply wounded foster child (Faleena Hopkins, delivering the only convincing performance). Jenny's materialistic mother (Christina Ma) is in utter denial over her increasingly frequent scrapes with school authorities and the law.
To the rescue is Jenny's more tradition-bound father (Philip Moon), summoned from Seoul by his friend and attorney (Fahey). These two characters sound unintended substance-abuse alarms of their own, played as they are with an eerie, Quaalude-infused lack of energy. Dad and daughter proceed to wrestle it out, the mild-mannered savior struggling to save his child from the evils of American life while she throws shrill tantrums.
Ostensibly a vehicle for Annie Lee, the film showcases her skimpily clad good looks more than her acting. Further hampering the melodramatics, helmer Jimmy Lee insists on repetitious, usually unnecessary flashbacks, while on-the-cheap location shooting in L.A.'s Koreatown provides little sense of place.
Ineptitude abounds in this ham-fisted "thirteen" wannabe. A borderline-exploitive look at a teen girl with a serious case of acting-out, "Close Call" bills itself as a breakthrough family drama about Korean-Americans. Artistically speaking, it's nothing of the sort, but it is a family project by Korean-Americans -- directed and scripted by Jimmy Lee, starring his daughter, Annie Lee, and co-produced by another daughter, Angie, who also has a supporting role. The involvement of Jeff Fahey, as a producer and cast member, won't boost the commercial prospects of the uninvolving and often laughable film, which opens Friday in Los Angeles.
The story begins with the apparent suicide of party girl Jenny (Annie Lee) and then reels back to explain what led her to that point, positing divorce and disconnection from Korean culture as the culprits. "Close Call" achieves realistic flashes of the underage demimonde of drugs and sex, and of the reckless adolescent dynamic of wanting to be both loved and left alone, but mostly the proceedings are implausible. The dialogue, whether pedantic or ridiculous, is invariably dull.
In what must be the least multicultural public high school in Los Angeles, Jenny eschews the (unseen) Asian nerds, choosing to hang with a bad-influence crowd led by a tough-chick drug dealer, who's really a deeply wounded foster child (Faleena Hopkins, delivering the only convincing performance). Jenny's materialistic mother (Christina Ma) is in utter denial over her increasingly frequent scrapes with school authorities and the law.
To the rescue is Jenny's more tradition-bound father (Philip Moon), summoned from Seoul by his friend and attorney (Fahey). These two characters sound unintended substance-abuse alarms of their own, played as they are with an eerie, Quaalude-infused lack of energy. Dad and daughter proceed to wrestle it out, the mild-mannered savior struggling to save his child from the evils of American life while she throws shrill tantrums.
Ostensibly a vehicle for Annie Lee, the film showcases her skimpily clad good looks more than her acting. Further hampering the melodramatics, helmer Jimmy Lee insists on repetitious, usually unnecessary flashbacks, while on-the-cheap location shooting in L.A.'s Koreatown provides little sense of place.
The story begins with the apparent suicide of party girl Jenny (Annie Lee) and then reels back to explain what led her to that point, positing divorce and disconnection from Korean culture as the culprits. "Close Call" achieves realistic flashes of the underage demimonde of drugs and sex, and of the reckless adolescent dynamic of wanting to be both loved and left alone, but mostly the proceedings are implausible. The dialogue, whether pedantic or ridiculous, is invariably dull.
In what must be the least multicultural public high school in Los Angeles, Jenny eschews the (unseen) Asian nerds, choosing to hang with a bad-influence crowd led by a tough-chick drug dealer, who's really a deeply wounded foster child (Faleena Hopkins, delivering the only convincing performance). Jenny's materialistic mother (Christina Ma) is in utter denial over her increasingly frequent scrapes with school authorities and the law.
To the rescue is Jenny's more tradition-bound father (Philip Moon), summoned from Seoul by his friend and attorney (Fahey). These two characters sound unintended substance-abuse alarms of their own, played as they are with an eerie, Quaalude-infused lack of energy. Dad and daughter proceed to wrestle it out, the mild-mannered savior struggling to save his child from the evils of American life while she throws shrill tantrums.
Ostensibly a vehicle for Annie Lee, the film showcases her skimpily clad good looks more than her acting. Further hampering the melodramatics, helmer Jimmy Lee insists on repetitious, usually unnecessary flashbacks, while on-the-cheap location shooting in L.A.'s Koreatown provides little sense of place.
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