(In case you were wondering what happened to Day 8, it was a day of rest so that I wouldn’t grow to hate movies and everything they stand for.)

When I first heard that Jackie Chan and Jet Li were going to be in a film together, my heart leapt. When I saw which movie, it sank. Kid’s movies don’t generally make for good martial arts cinema.

Still, I was hoping that the Rob Minkoff who co-directed The Lion King would show up, and not the one who directed The Haunted Mansion. I was hoping that the John Fusco who wrote Thunderheart would show up, and not the one who wrote The Babe.

Even if neither of options things panned out, I chose to believe that combining Jackie Chan, Jet Li and legendary fight choreographer Woo-Ping Yuen could overcome any amount of saccharine fairy tale nonsense.

I was wrong.

The Forbidden Kingdom, while not without its moments of charm, humor or kick-assery, is nowhere near the level any film involving those three legends should be. Even if the direction and screenwriting were crap (they’re not, but they’re not great, either) the fight sequences at least should be top notch. But I can find better work in each of those artists’ resumes without looking very far. This would be a mediocre kung fu flick by any standards, but it’s much more disappointing with the talent involved. The cheese (and it does get cheesy) just makes it that much more frustrating.

The actual fight between Li and Chan, half the reason I think most people will show up, is lengthy. Minkoff knows this is the film’s raison d’etre and he gives it its due. However, it’s still meh. I’m sitting there watching film history thinking, “Shouldn’t I be enjoying this more?” “Shouldn’t I not have the time or inattention to even think, ‘Shouldn’t I be enjoying this more?’”

When Chan faces off against gangmembers in Rumble in the Bronx, I’m not thinking about the crappy dialogue that got us there. When Jet Li takes on the bad guy at the end of Fist of Legend, I’m not musing on the fact that I’m still not sure why. When Master Yuen choreographs Keanu Reeves and Laurence Fishburne in an empty room, I’m not marveling at the fact that I’m actually enjoying a Keanu Reeves film. Instead, in each of these cases I’m thinking, “This is so kicking my ass.”

But for most of the Chan/Li fight, I’m thinking, “This is so not kicking my ass.”

Is it simply because no fight could live up to that expectation? I don’t think so. When Sammo Hung and Donnie Yen teamed up for the first time in SPL, there was a much touted final brawl, mostly improvised by the two masters. Not only were these two going to carry the climax of the film, they were going to wing it. That’s a hella-build-up. And still, it delivers.

The teaming of Jet Li and Michelle Yeoh, or Jackie Chan and Michelle Yeoh, or Chow Yun Fat and Michelle Yeoh (maybe it’s just Yeoh that’s missing here) have all lived up to the hype (not to mention Donnie Yen and Jet Li).

Fortunately, I’ve heard tell that Li and Chan are going to try to work together again, and that this wasn’t their first choice of projects to collaborate on, it was just the one where the timing worked out the best.

I would recommend The Forbidden Kingdom for a lazy Saturday afternoon where you’re flipping around cable and it happens to be on. But don’t expect it to live up to the fact that kung fu cinema history is being made.

From there I hoofed it across town to check out Timecrimes, a Spanish thriller about…well, there’s the problem. If you know what kind of movie it is, it’s fairly easy to predict about half of the film’s twists. From the title alone, though, you’ve probably already guessed that it’s time travel chiller. Writer/director Nacho Vigalondo does a good job of playing with the paradoxes of the genre, infusing the film with a welcome sense of humor. In fact, Timecrimes is as much dark comedy as it is Twilight Zone. I was a little underwhelmed with where it chose to take its premise, but your mileage may vary, and either way it makes for good post-flick coffee shop fodder.

Electile Dysfunction is the last political doc I’ll watch at the fest. I promise. I can quit anytime I want.

The locally produced doc from directors Joe Barber and Mary Patel, who were in attendance at the world premiere with about half the people interviewed in the film, uses the 2006 senate race between Rick Santorum and Bob Casey as a spine to discuss the ins and outs of political campaigns and how they have little to do with anything relevant to voters. In fact, the project was originally supposed to focus solely on the race, but the directors found the subjects to be “not very compelling.”

Interviews are tight, revealing and include an interesting swath of political consultants, spin doctors, celebs, press, volunteers and civilians (fellow Philly blogger Jeremy was interviewed for the film, but didn’t make the cut). There’s also some choice archival “How to Vote” style filmstrip footage and old political commercials, including a classic pre-Congress Arlen Specter spot. Still, even at 90 minutes, it does start to wear thin.

Next came the “Mystery Film” that was teased once the festival lineup was announced. All we knew was that it was a hit at Sundance. I guessed The Wackness and I guessed right. Probably the most useless talent I can imagine, but, there it is.

I had mixed feelings going in. I’d heard buzz, but it was the kind of buzz that was “Hey, everybody’s talking about this picture!” and not “Hey, everybody thinks this is a great film.” So I was wondering if it would be overrated.

It’s not really. But it’s not the next Rushmore or anything, either.

I bring up Rushmore because this is another in a long line of maladjusted-youth-coming-of-age stories which are common indie writer/director flicks because (a) they are personal and (b) they are relatively cheap. I also mention Rushmore because once again we have an older man going through a mid-life crisis (Ben Kingsley in an accent of unknown origin) pseudo-mentoring a precocious youth (Josh Peck, rockin’ a Peter Petrelli ‘do). The slight difference here is that the youth is paying the mentor for psychiatric advice by giving him pot.

Writer/director Jonathan Levine (helmer of the meant-to-see-it All the Boys Love Mandy Lane) invests The Wackness with plenty of style, a distinct aesthetic and a kick-ass soundtrack which capitalizes on the film’s 1994 setting. Biggie and A Tribe Called Quest get their due.

The setting works for the flick as often as against it. For every sly cultural reference, there’s another that hits you over the head. I realize the characters live in New York, but do they have to mention Giuliani that often?

Overall, though, the screenplay is the film’s greatest asset, peppering a fairly routine story with choice dialogue and situations.

Oh, and Mary-Kate Olsen gets her indie cred on. Seriously.

Next: Jackie Chan and Jet Li are finally in the same…kid’s film?

Secrecy, a documentary about the benefits and detriments of government secrets, is the most powerful film I’ve seen at the fest so far. Directors Peter Galison and Robb Moss artfully lay out both sides of the argument. On the one hand, leaking a tapped network, like the one tapped after the 1983 bombing of the American Embassy in Beirut, can result in terrorists abandoning that network, which in that case prevented foreknowledge of the far deadlier barracks bombing in the city later that year by the same terrorists.

On the other hand, when information is made public, it can actually help crack a case. For 12 years the FBI tried to find the Unabomber to no avail, but when his letters were finally published in newspapers, his brother picked one up and identified the ramblings right away. And excessive secrecy can actually aid terrorist activity. In reference to Zacarious Moussauoi’s August 2001 immigration violation arrest (and subsequent discovery of weapons and shit), the 9/11 Commission asserted, “Publicity about Moussaoui’s arrest and a possible hijacking threat might have derailed the plot.” What if secrecy, rather than helping security, actually hinders it?

But the scariest aspect of secrecy run amok is the idea that it can enable absolute power. If I told you that from now on, nothing you did would ever be discovered by another living soul, what would you do? The only limit would be your own morality, and even that might break down after a while. If you have a situation where anybody asking “What are you doing?” or “Why did you do that?” can get the answer, “I can’t tell you because it’s a secret,” and have that be a valid legal claim, the person who can say that can do anything to anybody and never have to say why or even what they did.

But there’s an even more fundamental logic problem that comes into play if you want to put a check on secrecy without eliminating it.

Secrecy and accountability cannot coexist.

Any other weapon in my arsenal can have oversight. Guns, planes, whatever. They can have oversight because you know what they are and what I’m doing with them. If I can’t tell you what I’m doing, you can’t tell me if it’s wrong.

These are the maddening and sometimes devastating issues with which the film grapples, hearing from numerous disagreeing voices.

It would be enough if the film managed to simply bring up these points, but it does so with a distinct voice, incorporating handrawn animation and art installations to embody concepts. It also displays narrative verve, keeping its own secrets as it teases out the story of the seminal United States v. Reynolds Supreme Court case throughout the film. A simple narrative trick, but one that docs rarely avail themselves of.

While many of the docs I’ve seen at the fest explore their chosen topics efficiently and are compelling on that basis alone, this is the first one I’ve seen here that seems truly crafted.

Next: Again with the political docs.

On Day Four I checked out the much anticipated and sold out (for two screenings straight) American Teen. It was worth the wait. A documentary about the lives of seniors about to graduate from a high school in Warsaw, Indiana, it comes off at first like a far less insipid version of The Hills, and while it never really loses that aesthetic, it becomes very moving very quickly. By the end you care more about these students than all of the MTV reality casts combined.

Confession of Pain is the latest from the directing team of Andrew Lau and Alan Mak who did a little film in 2002 called Infernal Affairs (which became The Departed for us Yanks). While their new film doesn’t quite have the cool factor of Affairs, it still retains that film’s heady mix of crime thriller and Shakespearean tragedy. The amazing Tony Leung Chiu Wai turns in another magnificent performance (seriously, did you see him in Lust, Caution?) as the best friend of a down-and-out ex-cop (House of Flying Daggers‘ Takeshi Kaneshiro). To tell more, honestly, would be to ruin one of the film’s early, shocking surprises.

So, instead, I’m going to talk about the overall mood, much of which can be credited to Andrew Lau and Lai Yiu Fai’s cinematography and the haunting score by Chan Kwong Wing. The feel is more Chinese noir than the near-Serpico vibe one gets from Affairs or the Godfather vibe of Johnny To’s Triad Election. It’s not the film I would use to introduce a newbie to Asian crime cinema, but if you’ve already got the bug, this won’t disappoint.

On Day Five came the most depressing film of the fest so far. I.O.U.S.A. is the latest from Wordplay director Patrick Creadon. This is not nearly as pleasant a romp. Maybe it’s because instead of focusing on America’s obsession with crossword puzzles, it focuses on how absolutely screwed we are because of the national debt. Think of it as Maxed Out for the government.

The doc does a good job of laying out a very complex problem, focusing on four types of debt: Federal debt (not as bad as you think, only a $250 billion or so deficit), savings debt (we basically don’t save anymore because we’re encouraged to spend), trade deficit (arguably the scariest, and I’ll tell you why in a minute) and, most importantly according to U.S. Comptroller General David Walker, a leadership debt.

The trade deficit is scary because when a country like, say, China owns a lot of our wealth, they can, if they really want to, cash out. Now, why would anyone do that? Well, the film gives an excellent example. Back during the Suez Canal Crisis, we really wanted Britain and France to back off because the USSR (remember them?) was about to take Egypt’s side against them. Britain and France said no. We said, “Okay, remember all those British pounds we’ve invested in? We’d like to sell those, please.” Britain and France folded to our demands within a week. We had it in our power to basically destroy the British pound (today, not so much).

That’s not to say China is planning on pushing us around (much) in the near future. But the point is, they can. And every year that goes by that we owe them more money, they can more.

The other really infuriating history lesson the film highlights (well, there are many, actually, but we only have so much time) is the story behind the U.S. leaving the gold standard. I always assumed this was done because of some new economic theory that was all the rage and made sense at the time and blah, blah, blah. The version of the story the film tells goes something more like this.

In the early 70′s, France (and they weren’t the only ones who felt this way) saw how we were spending money on social programs at home and on a particularly expensive war in Vietnam (And hey, they knew how expensive Vietnam could be. Am I right, folks?) and said “Hey, maybe we should turn those dollars we’ve got in for gold because they might not be worth much soon.” Nixon and his buddies (esp. Haldeman) anticipated this move and said, “What if those dollars weren’t so much attached to gold as, say, nothing?” So, the conversation between France and the U.S. ends up going something like this.

France: “So, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, we’d like all the gold that these dollars represent.”

Us: “Um…what gold?”

In the paraphrased words of Chris Rock, that is some crack dealer shit right there.

The film is full of fun facts like that and cool charts and graphs and, most importantly, real people talking about real problems (or being stumped by questions like “What’s a trade deficit?”), which keeps the film grounded through oceans of econo-speak.

One of the producers was there and actually asked us for suggestions since the final cut won’t go to theaters until August. Some wanted more Bush-bashing, some wanted a clarification on how this was a bipartisan issue, many wanted more solutions. For my part, I mentioned that the film was lacking what I called a “San Francisco moment.”

In An Inconvenient Truth, you see a map of San Francisco drowned. That stays with you. It says, in very simple, visual, concrete terms, “This is what happens if we do nothing.”

While you get the sense that Something Bad is going to happen if we don’t do something about this debt stuff, you never really get a handle on what that is (although the Suez scenario comes close).

Even without heeding any of the audience’s suggestions, though, they’ve already got a great and, yes, Important film on their hands.

Next: What else the government is doing with your money.

On day three of the fest I checked out The Pixar Story, a documentary about (full disclosure) my favorite studio. Pixar has enjoyed unprecedented success in that both critics and audiences have liked every single movie they’ve produced over the past 13 years. It’s hard enough for even our favorite, most consistent directors to string together three films in a row that are financially successful or critically acclaimed, much less both. Pixar, using several directors and writers, is 8 for 8.

How did this happen? Director Leslie Iwerks gives a nice history that begins with the early days at Cal Arts where Pixar founding member John Lasseter sat alongside future collaborators Pete Docter (dir. Monsters, Inc.), Andrew Stanton (dir. Finding Nemo) and Brad Bird (dir. The Incredibles, Ratatouille) and learned from Disney’s Nine Old Men. We follow Lasseter through getting hired, then fired, by a dysfunctional 80′s Disney and eventually going to work for Lucasfilm with pioneering digital artist Ed Catmull, who would go on to become another founding member before a third key player came along, some guy named Steve Jobs.

It is here we realize that the history of Pixar is, in fact, the history of digital filmmaking and the true significance of the story begins to emerge. It will ultimately lead to Disney acquiring Pixar in a move that places Steve Jobs, one of the leading technological innovators, on the board of directors of one of the leading entertainment conglomerates. Vis a vis the future of digital entertainment, that’s kind of important.

But even more important, vis a vis the future of making things not suck, is the insight the doc gives into how Pixar works. For each movie, they spend two-and-a-half years on…wait for it…story. How much time do you think Robots spent on story? At one point, we see an animator working on Nemo’s eyes. On his doodle sheet are story notes. And not just things like “Make Nemo’s eyes bigger so kids like him more.” No. Things like the symbolism and underlying meaning of the fins.

The most illustrative example comes when Pixar is hired by Disney to make Toy Story. The first pass is awful because Pixar listens to Disney. They turn it into the movie they think Disney is telling them to make. Backed up against a wall, they say “screw it” and turn in a draft of what they want to make, and it gets the greenlight. That independence has been crucial to their success.

The doc may come off as kind of a puff piece because Iwerks doesn’t really have anything bad to say about Pixar. I’m not sure there really is all that much bad to say about Pixar. I suppose you could talk about digital animation putting traditional artists out of business, but the film addresses that tragedy, laying it at the feet of short-sighted studios making crappy 2D animation that doesn’t make money and blaming 2D animation. Case in point, when Disney sold off all their 2D animation equipment, guess who bought it? But I can see where the doc might seem “light.”

Still, if you’re interested in the studio, the history (and future) of digital entertainment or even just how to make good movies, I’d go so far as to call this a must-see.

For another look at the film industry, there’s The Deal, a satire from director Steven Schachter, co-written by Schachter and William H. Macy, based on the novel by Peter Lefcourt. The film follows a suicidal producer (Macy) who decides to amuse himself by making an action movie out of a Benjamin Disraeli biopic penned by his nephew (Jason Ritter) starring a black action star (L.L. Cool J.) recently converted to Judaism. The premise is rife with satirical possibilities and, to some extent (usually whenever Macy opens his mouth) the film takes advantage of them.

Overall, though, the film feels tepid. Perhaps it’s hard to live up to the standard set by The Player or Swimming With Sharks and it’s clear the film doesn’t have the same venom for the industry. But it doesn’t replace that venom with anything else. We’re never really sure just how Macy’s character feels about Hollywood, or himself. His love/hate relationship with the industry and self-loathing are written in such broad strokes that even with Macy’s considerable talent can’t illuminate them. That doesn’t make it any less entertaining to watch Macy inhabit the character with the same smarter-than-thou energy he gave off in State and Main or on Sports Night. It’s enough to make The Deal a good-but-not-great movie about movies.

Macy attended the screening with co-stars Ritter and Fiona Glascott. He’s a great storyteller and kept the Q&A going when there were lapses in the Q. His most interesting anecdotes involved shooting in Capetown where, in spite of the death of apartheid, segregation is alive and well, except on movie sets, where whites and blacks will work together to carry all two or three tons of a film crane up a hill for a key shot.

Oh, and he can rock a John Bolton moustache without breaking a sweat.

Next: Young Americans

The 17th Philadelphia Film Festival got off to a rollicking start with an old lady singing “Should I Stay or Should I Go.” This is the opening scene of director Stephen Walker’s documentary Young@Heart, which profiles an eponymous choir of seniors who specialize in rock, covering Sonic Youth, James Brown and Coldplay, among others. The whole film is full of moments like this, with the supposed propriety of age juxtaposed with the irreverence of rock. In one of several music videos that pepper the film, an entire nursing home sings “I Wanna Be Sedated.” As we get to know the members of the chorus, the film becomes as moving as it is hilarious. Walker’s narration occasionally feels intrusive, smacking of cutesy nightly news voiceover, but the overall doc is solid and the music is actually very, very good.

L to R: Bob Cilman, Stephen Walker, Helen Boston, Liria Petrides and Joseph Mitchell

In the Q&A afterwards, Walker, the choir’s musical director Bob Cilman and chorus members Helen Boston, Joseph Mitchell and Liria Petrides discussed the making of the film. I was disappointed to hear that the one song they couldn’t clear the rights for (and there are a LOT of songs in this film – rights took 9 months to clear in all) was “One” by U2. Walker seemed convinced that his letters never reached Bono and were lost in the bureaucracy cloud that surrounds the band, but it’s still a letdown for a U2 fanatic like myself who would prefer to enjoy an idyllic image of the group. First the Negativeland fiasco, now this.

The next day brought Pistoleros, a relatively meh entry from Best-Director-Name-Ever-Havin’ Shaky Gonzalez. While this film is likely to draw comparisons to the work of Robert Rodriguez with its low budget action and gritty plotting, it’s clearly more in love with the repertoire of Sergio Leone, drawing entire characters and situations from The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. The film centers on a director/producing team in Copenhagen trying to make a film about a legendary gangster. From three possibly unreliable sources, they are told three aspects of a tale involving the gangster, his two kids, a bunch of stolen money and the nefarious hoods looking for it.

It’s all relatively effective and the storytelling aspect makes for a neat device with which to present the plot, but ultimately the film has a few hurdles it never quite overcomes. First off, whenever the actors speak English, the acting plummets. I don’t know if this is because they’re poor actors and I just don’t know bad Danish acting when I hear it, or if it’s just much harder to act in a second or third language. Neither would surprise me. (I’ve seen this before. Check out Jet Li in Romeo Must Die. In his one scene speaking Mandarin, he’s suddenly Olivier.) Secondly, the plot, engaging as it is, never really congeals and the “twist” placed at the end seems just silly rather than clever.

A third problem, which plagues this sort of fare in general, is that it’s a very fine line between being charmingly low budget and charmlessly low budget. This shoots about 50/50. Finally, and this may just be me, but the film comes off as a little racist. That is to say, of the three Pakistani characters in the film, and they are major characters, all are unrelenting douchebags. And not in the way that all characters in a crime story are douchebags. No, these are the really reprehensible bad guys in the room full of bad guys. I don’t know if that’s intentional and I’d like to think it’s not, but at the very least it’s distracting, and that’s not what you want to be thinking about during a shoot ‘em up.

Next: The only working man in show business who can pull off a John Bolton moustache.