The Jonestown Defense

I will say this is kind of a strange occurrence, as this is actually a review of a film I am in (sort of). "The Jonestown Defense" was filmed in my hometown of Sarasota, FL, in the summer of 2009, and I -- and many of my actor friends -- were included as extras in several scenes (most of which were cut from the finished print). Look carefully and you can see my back (and bald head) in a mirror in the hotel lobby in an early scene; that's all that's left of my two days' work on camera.

I felt that disclaimer was needed before I proceeded, so that I can maintain some semblance of critical fairness -- especially as I wish that the finished product was... better.

Ostensibly an examination of a business exec's crisis of conscience when his company is facing a hostile takeover -- and his subsequent "poisoning" of the deal; hence the title of the film -- "The Jonestown Defense" wants to be a topical illustration of the financial meltdown at the end of the last decade. The problem is, the back room and boardroom machinations are the weakest part of the flick. It's as if the lead actors (who co-wrote the movie with director Greg Takoudes) hadn't bothered to take a business course before plowing ahead.

What the filmmakers get right is the various "bromances" between the conflicted exec (Dennis Ostermaier) and his hotheaded friend/corporate rival (Robert Stevens); and between Ostermaier and Michael Michaelessi as a soft-spoken hotel guest who's harboring his own unhappiness. Michaelessi is quite amusing in his observations of Ostermaier's crack-up, and Stevens has fun with his showy, foul-mouthed role.

An ill-conceived magic show featuring Amy Seimetz and April Barton feels like filler (even with it, the movie clocks in at around 90 minutes), intended to get some women into the movie... but it fails to advance the plot and reveals "secrets" that the audience will figure out much earlier.

The real treats here are Hugh Pool's music and Andrew Wonder's cinematography (especially if you're familiar with Sarasota). There are some cute Florida in-jokes, too, such as Jet Blue flight numbers and the local attitude toward drainage ditches.

But all told, the flick is a failure because the good stuff hangs on a framework that's badly structured and hard to follow. Would that Takoudes and company applied their talents to telling a human-interest story, rather than slapping together a cautionary business tale that leaves the audience scratching its head, rather than clapping for more.

Although the collapse of a business and the "poison pill" tactic ref'd in the title are key to this story, this story is not (solely) about business. it's about men and what happens when the power they hold so uneasily slip-slides away. It's about the accidental slapstick inherent in arrogance, and the desperation to make things right before the clock runs out. Any suggestion that the film makers should've taken a business course is like arguing that the Maltese Falcon could've used a better sculptor: totally beside the point.

The film is beautifully, authentically planted in both Floridas (the real one and the polyvinyl chloride one), but anyone, anywhere, will connect to this story—many of us have been in that conference room when the deal goes down, and gone reeling out afterwards with exactly the same compass confusion. As lyrical as cinematographer Andrew Wonder's work is in the natural- world shots, it most truly resonates on the faces of the three leads—there's nothing inside these men that he doesn't paint. A woman will see every man she's ever loved; a man will see himself, and maybe the shadow of his father. Director Takoudes deftly lets his actors go without letting them go over; the agony they each bear is as earned as the sweat soaking their shirts. Michael Michaelessi's Paul is deep in stunned grief, a little bit in love with death, and he instantly recognizes that same slipping-into-darkness in the other two men when they intersect. Dennis Ostermaier's Christopher is digging for an essential decency all the while he's twisting, lying, and stumbling—the ice-cream-with-his-son scene is as ravaging as the quixotic trip through the knifey sawgrass palmetto. Robert Stevens' Frank comes on like a stereotype bloviator and then becomes something miraculous, with laughter that cracks at the top, and rage just this side of madness. Amy Seimetz's broken-crystal moments are deceptive—what initially looks like sleaze becomes a fulcrum for truth-telling.

Yep, flaws aplenty—could use a little audio clarity over here, could use a steadier steady-cam over there, could maybe use a tear-it-up bar scene with Hugh Pool playing right up front… but otherwise, everything is here. These are the Secaucus Seven's kids all grown up, and that's a very deep, very human wound.

First of all, I am a fan of independent film makers as they put their creativity, money and passion into every film they make. They risk it all for something they believe in. The Jonestown Defense is a good example of this. The story of a man losing his livelihood, his family and himself is both poignant and timely. The Jonestown Defense is not a perfect film, but certainly remarkable given the financial parameters that independents must work within.

Almost everyone can identify with this film in one way or another. It is a movie worth watching and certainly worthy of spreading the good word about. This film's message about the struggle to keep things together when everything is falling apart is a theme that should resonate with everyone.

As a filmmaker, novelist and Sarasota resident I found the Jonestown Defense appealing on many levels. It had a European feel, almost like a French film shot on an America Riviera. Florida, lush and tempting, some great nature shots, cold business, and three men in crisis. The Bromance in Jonestown is first class. The desperation of two businessmen melting down over a deal going south was as palpable as the torrential rains of summer. And the emotional bottom felt authentic. With the hand-held camera and interesting cuts, it took some risks especially at the beginning. European films pull off those close in scenes with the hand held camera; American viewers don't always have the patience let the scenes open out. But some quirky cutting in the beginning does pay off here and adds some mystery as the story takes a few turns before digging deeper into the hearts of three men at a critical time of their lives. Florida as a character is as beautiful on the outside, heartless on the inside, as a classic Russian whore. And there's no telegraphing where it's going to end. Liked that.