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Matty Stanfield
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Neon-Noir Or Reflecting Cultural Commentary or Neon Space in Film
Master cinematographer, Christopher Doyle, was asked to comment on the way neon lights and lighting have impacted his work. As as part of the online exhibition from Mobile M+ and NEONSIGNS.HK, he revisited some of the locations in which he and Kar-wai Wong filmed some of iconic work:
"The films we made at a certain period in the 80's and 90's wouldn't be this way if it wasn't for the space in which they were made…"
Beauty hides in the shadows…
Carina Lau
Kar-wai Wong, 1990
Cinematography | Christopher Doyle
"…And our space is a neon space. It's a light space. It's a space of energy that is electric. It's the way people move. It's the energy of Hong Kong. It's the excitement of the encounters on the street. And it's lit by neon, basically. Especially at that time."
Surviving in a Neon World
Tony Leung
Chungking Express
"It's a garish, exuberant possibly empty world if you're not careful. I think that's what neon is representing." — Christopher Doyle, Filming in the Neon World.
For the full film/interview click here:
"Without any warning, she suddenly enters the store. I don't know how long she'll stay."
Doyle's work for Kar-wai Wong is some of the best cinematography one can ever expect to see. As he explains, it is exuberant — It is also erotic, unique, sensual, dangerous, disorienting and staggeringly beautiful. The shot posted above takes place in a space few of us would want to actually spend time. Much of Fallen Angels seems dirty and possibly even sinister, but eyes do not want to part with the visuals Doyle has captured. Less than a year later he would make his debut as a feature filmmaker. Away With Words featured one of Japan's hottest actors, Tadanobu Asano, and an impossibly cool use of music. Most importantly, it was visually amazing. The images of Away With Words imprinted on my brain. Sadly Doyle's movie was never lucky enough to receive adequate distribution. But for those of us who did see it — the movie lives on.
The criminally neglected and forgotten…
Away With Words / San tiao ran
Christopher Doyle, 1999
The world contained within Away With Words is magically infused with neon light. The movie actually seems to radiate much of the time. This film can still be found via DVD, though it has never received a proper transfer. It is still worth seeing. It is also almost impossible to find any screenshots that do it justice. I must disclose that Christopher Doyle is my favorite cinematographer. For me to write this is a big deal. I love cinematography and there are many artists I admire — but it is usually hard for me to pick out one artist above all others. I do not have this problem when it comes to cinematography. No one shoots a film like Mr. Doyle.
"Turns out that lonely people are all the same."
Leslie Cheung and Tony Leung
The use of neon lighting for film has been going on for some time. It's seem obvious that lighting is as key to a movie as editing, but it is far more complex than simply providing enough light to capture an image. Lighting allows the filmmaker and cinematographer to not only guide but to literally shape a film's meaning. Cinematography incorporates all essential elements to form the essence of a movie. When one thinks of neon lighting for film, it would seem it best for creating either a sterile environment or a world of shadows with the intention of menace or horror. But the use of neon lighting is almost limitless in what it can convey. It all depends on how well the cinematographer understands lighting, is able to collaborate with lighting technicians and how creative he/she is in bringing a personal vision that highlights the essential one belonging to the film's director.
Gallo horror has never been more beautiful or surreal. This is the perfect example of a great cinematographer.
Jessica Harper suspects witchery.
Dario Argento, 1977
Cinematography | Luciano Tovoli
Argento's Suspiria is a neon lit nightmare. Luciano Tovoli's camera gives the gratuitous violence and paranormal horrors a sinister sort of beauty without getting in Argento's way. The cinematographer works for the director, but he/she can bring forth magic that the director is often only able to imagine.
In a passive chronological order, take a look at the following shots that incorporate The Neon World into the frames and meanings of the respective films.
American Gigolo
Paul Schrader, 1980
Cinematography | John Bailey
Bailey's use of neon reds and blacks is the perfect concept for dark eroticism and ever-present danger and paranoia.
Neo-Noir / Neon-Noir meets The Beautiful / The Dangerous
Ridley Scott, 1982
Cinematography | Jordan Cronenweth
I was too young when I first saw Blade Runner to be able to own the language of film, but when I noticed it was referred to as "Neo-Noir" I do remember thinking "Neon-Noir" seemed more sensical. A few years later I would begin to make the connection. I still like the term "Neon Noir" even if it isn't real.
"This is not a marketplace."
Michael Mann, 1981
Cinematography | Donald E. Thorin
Michael Mann had great luck bringing the neon world to Thief, but the same can't be said for One From The Heart. Even still, it is a beautiful looking mess of a movie.
Suppose you had Tom Waits create an amazing score and perfected visuals to a neon-infused glow — and nobody came to see it?
Nastassja Kinski glowing…
One From The Heart
Francis Ford Coppola, 1982
Cinematography | Vittorio Storaro /
Ronald Víctor García
Tony Scott's The Hunger is seamlessly beautiful — the film's opening moments/credits are unforgettable and immediately set the stage. Shadowed, cool, stylish and throbbing with electricity and hyper eroticism — this world is beguiling, but we all know that Bela Lugosi's Dead.
Tony Scott, 1983
Cinematography | Stephen Goldblatt
Ken Russell may have not had a big budget, but he understood how he exactly how he wanted to capture China Blue's surreal world of fantasy, cheap thrills and escape. Dick Bush was a master, but it was usually his director's who pushed him forward. And he never failed them.
Welcome to the Neon Surrealism of Ms. China Blue…
Ken Russell, 1984
Cinematography | Dick Bush
Wim Wender's Paris Texas seems an odd fit for utilizing the idea of a Neon-drenched world, but Robby Muller brings the idea to glorious use more than a couple of times within Wender's concept.
There is distinct beauty and sadness in every shot…
Cinematography | Robby Muller
David Lynch's collaborations with the great Frederick Elmes never fail to seduce, hypnotize and repulse. Blue Velvet is a classic example of Neo-Noir …and Neon-Noir Surrealism.
This is not your grandparents Film Noir…
David Lynch, 1986
Cinematography | Frederick Elmes
Finding the image from Paul Verhoeven's Basic Instinct was not as easy as I had expected. Most remember this film for Sharon Stone's brave and no-hold-barred performance (and flash!) but I always think of that amazing scene where the detective enters a raving dance club to find his Femme Fatale. This is not a good example of the way Jan de Bont was able to capture the electric energy of this nightclub, but you can get the general idea. It was too masterful to leave out.
Forgive the poor quality image, but lighting intensity adds to the protagonist's adrenaline rush as he navigates a San Francisco night club.
Paul Verhoeven, 1992
Cinematography | Jan de Bont
Michael Mann had already established a magical sort of neon energy for the protagonist of Thief, but he found new ways to utilize it for the visually dazzling, HEAT.
A familiar story is captured in brilliant moments of light, shadow, form and reflection.
Cinematography | Dante Spinotti
Terry Gilliam and Nicola Pecorini bring neon, chaos, paranoia and delirium to Las Vegas of the late 1960's.
The neon glow of Vegas seeps into the hotel rooms, desert and a drug fueled mind.
Terry Gilliam, 1998
Cinematography | Nicola Pecorini
Skipping ahead a few years and even Jason Statham gets the neon touch…
"Now I go back to the street and disappear."
This spaces of this Neon World threaten with lighted colors.
Steven Knight, 2013
Cinematography | Chris Menges
Yorick Le Saux adds a whole new context of meaning to Jim Jarmusch's already cool vampiric world…
Love, Marriage and devotion in a world of neon light.
Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston
Jim Jarmusch, 2013
Cinematography | Yorick Le Saux
Just as one should never attempt to mention neon lighting in film without a discussion of Christoper Doyle's masterful work — it would be tragic to not highlight Benoit Debie's cinematography. Harmony Korine has always been astute regarding his cinematic visions, but Debie brings a hue to Spring Breakers that only he could create.
Teen rebellion and rape culture are satirized in a fusion of neon and electrified dub-steps…
Harmony Korine, 2012
Cinematography | Benoit Debie
The critics may have dismissed Ryan Gosling feature film directorial debut, but I still contend they were wrong. If nothing else, Benoit Debie added neon drenched meanings, mystery and surreal horrors forward in Lost River. The film is not perfect, but it arches forward in simultaneously borrowed but eccentric uniqueness. In its own way, Lost River, if almost brilliant. This is no one's standard coming of age movie.
"Live" Adult Entertainment takes a very glowing dark turn…
Ryan Gosling, 2014
Just as Christopher Doyle will forever be linked with Kar-wai Wong — so will Benoit Debie with Gaspar Noe. It is a supreme compliment to both directors that they have been able to collaborate so beautifully with two distinctly brilliant cinematographers. While all four are linked respectively together — Wong and Noe have never been hesitant to share the credit for the power of the fieldwork.
Strong case in point, Noe actually shares cinematography credit with Debie for Irreversible. It says a great deal that I am never sure who is behind the camera in this deeply disturbing film. Irreversible is a remarkable work of cinematic art, but it is almost as problematic. One thing is most certain, the quality of the camerawork and use of lighting can only be praised. Even if you have opted to not put yourself through the inhumane horrors of this film — I suspect you will recognize this image.
Neon lighting radiates sinister energy as Monica Bellucci leads the camera to one of the most disturbing and controversial scenes of sexual violence ever put to film…
Gaspar Noe, 2002
And when it comes to the power of neon lighting within the context of filmmaking, one would be hard pressed to think of a better example than Gaspar Noe's Enter The Void. Intentionally a trip of a film experience, Benoit Debie's mark is ever-present.
"It's fucking cold."
Cinematography | Benoit Debie | Cinematography
"I can't believe this is real."
And while Love may not be much of a movie, it is often amazing to watch for visuals alone. Once again, Debie infuses neon light throughout.
The Neon replaces the passion and thrills of romance and sexual release…
Karl Glusman and Aomi Muyock
And if there is one director who has spent a career studying and utilizing neon for filmmaking it would be Nicolas Winding Refn. Even under the constraint of a limited budget, his focus was on capturing the energy, insanity and terror of the drug underworld via lighting. The Pusher Trilogy shows what a skilled artist can do with very little.
Burning the image to neon is not new to Mr. Refn
Nicolas Winding Refn, 1996
Cinematography | Morten Soborg
The film itself may be flawed, but Fear X is of note because it marks the first collaboration between Refn and Larry Smith. Paranoia, fear, rage, mystery and horror benefit from a very neon-ed space.
Accidental Death or murder? These spaces offer menacing paranoia.
Cinematography | Larry Smith
2008's Bronson is a cinematic marvel on more than a few counts — one of them is the way in which Larry Smith pushes neon to the limits to merge reality with the fantasy of Surrealism.
Realism, Surrealism, Desire, Isolation and fantasies bleed to form a life trapped in a neon-glow.
Nicolas Winding Refn and Larry Smith use Drive to serve as the perfect synthesis of their shared vision. It is all about style and manipulation of light.
"Is he a bad guy?"
Cinematography | Newton Thomas Sigel
The envelope got pushed off the table and then blown toward the door for their next collaborative effort, Only God Forgives. While it is not a perfect movie, it is certainly not the flop that so many critics wanted us to believe. Only God Forgives is a metaphorical nightmare that often looks more animated than real. Odd and completely unforgettable — another exorcise in style and manipulation.
"Time to meet The Devil."
Bathed in Neon, Kristin Scott Thomas isn't worried.
Sadly Larry Smith was not involved in Mr. Refn's next experiment, but it is unlikely that Refn would have budged even the slightest. The title says it all. The Neon Demon is a cinematic error. This time Refn didn't even bother to push the envelope. He simply refused to acknowledge that an envelope existed. Beautiful, seductive, twisted and so cool it is almost frozen — The Neon Demon stands indignant and absolutely lost in the garishness of its own neon glow.
And, cue the tipping point…
Cinematography | Natasha Braier
Jenna Malone is the only actor who manages to walk away unscathed. Of course this Demon is so very neon, we sometimes can hardly see her.
Neon lighting so deep we can barely see it. This might be a good thing.
Jenna Malone is full of beauty…
It may not work, but Natasha Braier is certainly up for the challenges her director presents.
Matty Stanfield, 9.20.2016
Cattet / Forzani
Chris Menges
Chung-hoon Chung
Donald E. Thorin
Giallo Horror
Hubert Selby Jr.
Kar-Wai Wong
Luciano Tovoli
Manuel Dacosse
Mobile M+
Morten Søborg
Neon Film
Neon Lighting in Film
Neon Space
NEONSIGNS HK
Newton Thomas Sigel
Nicola Pecorini
Reflecting Culture
Ronald Victor Garcia
San tiao ren
The Pusher Trilogy
Yorick Le Saux
September 20th by Matty Stanfield in	Christopher Doyle Cinematic Arts Cinematic Gems Cinematic History Cinematic Impact Cinematic Obsession Cinematic Resonates Cinematography Cult Film Cultural Commentary Existentialism Film Film Art Film Art Interviews Film Artists Film Evaluation Film History Film Lighting Film of Note Film Perservation Film Re Evaluation Film Resonation Film Theory Filmmakers Neon Lighting Neon World Neon-Noir
Editing To Mimic The Mind's Eye Vision
At this moment, it was still very much style over substance. But this would soon change.
Donald Cammell / Nicolas Roeg, 1970
Cinematography | Nicolas Roeg
Having the opportunity to interview or chat with a filmmaker is always interesting, but once in a while it can be somewhat magical. From time to time a highly respected and successful film artist manages to escape the limitations of celebrity. Not all celebrated filmmakers live in bubbles.
And while it often feels a thing of the past, there are still filmmakers who are more concerned with filmmaking as an art form than as the opportunity for the wealth of a franchise. No artist desires creating work that fails to connect with an audience, but there are some who are far more concerned with a personal vision than worrying about selling tickets. While this can create limitations for the filmmaker, it also presents a great level of freedom.
BBC Arena Portrait
Photograph | David Thompson, 2015
One such filmmaker is Nicolas Cage. If you've ever watched or read an interview with eccentric auteur you will be aware that his style of conversing is at once intellectual and rather free-form. His style of discussing his work, history and ideas often ramble, but they never miss their mark.
If you've ever had the pleasure of listening to Nicolas Roeg speak, you will note a highly intelligent and genuine man. It is impossible to miss the fact that he is so filled with ideas that he tends talk in meandering and circular logic sentences. Last year, after overcoming more than a few challenges, The Criterion Collection re-mastered and re-issued Don't Look Now. It features a discussion filmed in 2003 at London's Ciné Lumière. It is an entertaining discussion and fully captures the way in which Roeg communicates. More importantly, it lets us see how he thinks and more than a little insight into how he makes films. He has always stretched cinematography and film editing to the limits to mimic the ways the human mind works. It may not always appear logical if we can slow down long enough to notice the jumbled order of our thoughts, but we are able to connect the dots of our odd assortment of ideas to lead us to the ways in which we operate.
If there is one element that shines through when listening to Mr. Roeg is the constant desire to find ways for film to connect with the human brain. When he made his debut as a film director it was a collaboration with writer/director, Donald Cammell.
There is a great deal more going on behind James Fox's "Johnny's" violent actions than simple thuggery.
That debut film was Performance. Essentially a thriller in which a thug makes the mistake of hiding out in the home of rock star and his two groupies. The "thrill" aspect of the film takes a long fall as the film quickly evolves into a surrealistic study of a drug-fueled, hallucinogenic trip into identity. The film remains firmly seated as a dated but groundbreaking film of its time featuring Mick Jagger playing the odd rock star who pulls James Fox into a great deal more than his own isolated world.
"Nothing is true, everything is permitted."
There only appears to be no rules…
It is an iconic film. It is also offers a key insight into what would soon become Nic Roeg's life long pursuit toward a whole new kind of cinematic language. The idea of filming and editing a film to reflect the inner-workings of the human mind is forming. As Performance was a collaborative effort and firmly rooted in the culture of late 1960's Swinging London world of fashion, rock and drugs — the uses of this idea never fully form. Instead the film often employs stylistic choices of jittery fast cuts and odd perspectives that are as ornamental as they are meaningful. Even still Roeg's approach human thought as a method of plot projection is there.
Even the smallest creatures fight to survive. A picnic in the outback turns into a journey of cruel awakening, self-discovery and survival. A Cinematographer becomes an Auteur.
Nicolas Roeg, 1971
Nicolas Roeg's true directorial debut is filled with ideas and unique perceptions. A brother and sister escape the insanity of their troubled father to find themselves in the wilds of The Australian Outback. The title of the film comes from the Aboriginal concept of a male's journey to adulthood. And with the assistance of a young man in the middle of his tribal ritual "walkabout" — the siblings journey through adversity and mystery toward their own adulthood.
What constantly threatens danger springs forward into a celebration of life's possibilities…
Along the way cultural differences cause confusion and alarm. It is a film about survival thanks to human kindness. But more than anything it is a startling view of how racism and cultural differences are so engrained, no amount of human kindness can make them go away. Roeg's camera captures reality through a sort of surrealistic lens. The careful use of Antony Gibbs and Alan Pattillos' editing allow us to view the realities and revelations from the perspective of two young adults and a child. It is here that we get a glimpse of identity perspective through the way the characters' minds take in and view individual perceptions of experience.
A beautiful and tragic experimental film about both the strengths and flaws of the human condition. Another idea is put forward that hints that as our society applies more and more pressures, the concept of a walkabout could become a new sort of ritual for human beings contained within a society that only appears to offer safety and protection.
A young man takes a look at the land of his future and a shot becomes an iconic image.
David Gulpilil
When one watches Roeg's 1980's Bad Timing, a story of lust turned to obsession that not only pushes both individuals to the limits — it pulls one of them into the darkest corners of insanity. Bad Timing is graphic in the use of nudity, but the story it tells is not all that unusual. What makes this film standout as a work of cinematic art is the blending and discordant use of plot points into a fluid labyrinthine of perspectives that is often almost impossible to follow. The concept of flashback story-telling takes an almost hysterical detour into uncharted territories.
What often feels like a murder mystery is really far more complex in what it attempts to do. Bad Timing dares to toss a number of film genres our way, but the goal here is not suspense or even mystery. This film charts the deterioration of both the human mind and psyche after the requirements of desire, lust and sexual obsession have overtaken the rational.
"I'll be dead in a minute; just wanted to say good-bye."
Who is in control? Who is being seduced? And in what order are these experiences happening?
Art Garfunkel / Theresa Russell
Cinematography | Anthony B. Richmond
Tony Lawson's editing of Anthony B. Richmond's oddly framed cinematography shifts the viewer perspective into a strange flow that is challenging to grasp. The majority of film critics and audiences at the time tended to dismiss the film. Art Garfunkel's low-key performance mixing with Harvey Keitel's intensity and Theresa Russell's unhinged demonstration of carnal obsession often feels like a cinematic experiment with celluloid as rubber band. Bad Timing was so strange at the time it was released that it would take a good decade before it would be reconsidered and re-evaluated for the exceptional film it is. This film remains strange and refuses to give in.
"You tell the truth about a lie so beautifully." Art Garfunkel / Theresa Russell Bad Timing Nicolas Roeg, 1980 Cinematography | Anthony B. Richmond
Don't Look Now takes us to a Venice steeped in decay, sadness and uncertain dangers. We are led through a series of seemingly endless loop of dark tunnels. We pass over aged bridges in a fog of mystery. Hope can become deadly. Grief can become a release. Like life, nothing is at it appears. Constantly shifting back and forth in time which only becomes obvious upon a second screening. Everything is viewed with disconnected logic and paranormal hindsight. There is a constant confusion of "real-time" with conscious and subconscious perceptions. An unrelenting sense of déjà vu that our protagonist refuses to own or fully evaluate.
Nothing is what it appears…
Don't Look Now
A cinematic masterwork that captures a young couple trying to re-connect and support each other in order to survive the worst experience life can offer. It is a truly horrific film that somehow manages to be both beautiful and hauntingly sad. This is a surreal horror film about love, guilt, connections and grief.
"This one who's blind. She's the one that can see."
This controversial 1973 film remains Roeg's most successful film. Don't Look Now is perhaps the best example of how Nicolas Roeg's films work.
These films are about a whole lot more than seeing — these films are about how we think.
Matty Stanfield, 2.8.2016
Brian Smedley-Aston
Donald Cammell
Graphic Nudity
Graphic Sexuality
Mick Jaggar
The Human Brain
February 8th by Matty Stanfield in	Anthony B. Richmond Antony Gibbs Art House Cinema Bad Timing British Film Cinematic Arts Cinematic Imprint Cinematic Intent Cinematic Journey Cinematic Language Cinematic Masterpiece Cinematic Style Cinematography Cinephile Criterion Collection Cult Film Cultural Commentary Cultural Memory Don't Look Now Dream Logic Dreams Eroticism Existentialism Experimental Cinema Experimental Film Film Film Acting Film Actors Film Art Film Artists Film Criticsm Film Directors Film Editing Film Evaluation Film Theory Graeme Clifford Human Psyche Human Thought Identity Independent Film Influential Cinema Intellectualism Matty Stanfield Nicolas Roeg Provocative Film Psychology Psychotronic Sexuality Subliminal Editing Surrealism The Criterion Collection The Man Who Fell To Earth Tony Lawson Truth Walkabout
Completely Out of Control! or Eyes of Laura Mars
One can't help but wonder what might have happened if John Carpenter had filmed his own script of Eyes of Laura Mars. It is a rather silly question as he did not film his own script. Instead that duty was assigned to the skilled filmmaker, Irvin Kershner. The only director bold enough to stand his ground against the likes of George Lucas while shooting his film for the Star Wars franchise and the director who was able to assist Barbra Streisand tone it all down to play a very believable housewife in a very surreal experimental film of the early 1970's, Up The Sandbox.
"And your eyes say everything. You wanna keep me here forever
I can't escape. One minute's so sincere.
Then you completely turn against me. And I'm afraid…"
An Iconic Movie Poster
Irvin Kershner, 1978
Up until 1977 he had never directed a horror film. It is clear that the under-appreciated film artist was less interested in the terror aspects of Carpenter's script than in using it to focus on the problematic trend of mixing sex with violence as a form of subversion or perverse eroticism. One merely has to glance at only one of Rebecca Blake's photographs taken for the film to understand that she is carefully constructing slick photographs in the vein of Helmut Newton or Guy Bourdin. Interestingly, these provocative and aggressively misogynistic photographs point toward where Karl Lagerfeld would be headed later on.
Is Laura Mars really only selling shampoo here?
Photograph | Rebecca Blake
John Carpenter's original screenplay is fairly simple: A Post-Feminist (???) fashion photographer takes controversial photographs which capture not only the erotic elements of the female form in stylish clothing, but acts of brutal violence and murder. Violence and murder usually aimed at women. Her work is highly profitable and has made her a bit of a celebrity. As a coffee table book collecting some of her most infamous photographs hits the stores, people close to her begin to be murdered in horrible ways that always culminate with their eyes being gouged out.
Even more disturbing, the photographer begins to lose her own vision only to be replaced with the POV of the killer for the duration of each murder. Amping up the horror is the fact that the pop culture princess of fashion photography discovers that all of her photographs mimic a number of brutal and confidential police shots of actual murders. Hence, it would appear that Ms. Mars is somehow psychically linked to a serial killer. It is the psychotic madness of a killer who has been inspiring her art. Art that many are eager to purchase and admire.
Eventually, the killer sets his sites on Laura Mars herself. As the killer tries to kill her she is put in the chilling position of POV limitation — she can only see herself as the killer goes after her. Essentially blind with only disorienting and panicked visions of her own body as target, she is a prisoner of the killer's eyes ...and her own.
Cinematography | Victor J. Kemper
John Carpenter deserves a great deal of credit with coming up with an original and scary concept. It is unlikely he viewed as any sort of cultural or pop art commentary, but the circumstance of the imagined situation opens that door. Enter the decision to hire Irvin Kershner as the director. By securing the respected film director, the already infamous producer of the project was able to seal a deal with Faye Dunaway to play the lead character. In 1977, this was a casting coup. Dunaway was at the height of her cinematic power in the mid to late 1970's. A beautiful and respected Academy Award winning actress, Ms. Dunaway was sought after.
Initially Jon Peters was rumored to have wanted to talk his then Life Partner, Barbra Streisand, into taking the role. The script was too violent and dark for Streisand's taste. She did agree to sing a theme song which turned out to be a surprisingly rock-driven song. The esteemed Conrad Hall was rumored to be first choice to serve as the film's cinematographer, but Kershner wanted Victor J. Kemper. He got him.
Several gorgeous models were hired to serve as models and actors. Tommy Lee Jones was secured for the leading male love interest. And thanks to a large paycheck, several respected actors were cast in supporting roles — most notably Brad Dourif and Raul Julia. This was an A List Production out of the gate.
Armed and ready to take aim at herself. So to speak.
When the results of the finished film screened in 1978, viewers were presented with a cinematic cornucopia of ideas and images. Some of these worked. Others failed. Mixed together — Eyes of Laura Mars became a largely mixed experience for film critics and an often vexing one for the audience. The film was a hit. Though filled with tension, the movie failed to actually be scary.
While Laura Mars' photographs are violently and sexually graphic, the film is surprisingly restrained. Most certainly the violence and amount of nudity earned the film an R rating, but there was a loopy sort of immature logic holding the film together.
Some did find the movie disturbing. Some found it to be a fun ride with more than a few unexpected twists. Others were just left a bit confused.
A male's smackdown on a beautiful woman is intended to sell cologne.
Photograph by Rebecca Blake
37 years later Eyes of Laura Mars continues to entertain. Sadly, much of the entertainment grows out of unintentional camp.
This is not to say that this odd bit of big-budget 1970's filmmaking does not hold some merit. But the film's merits are easily over-powered by the strange plot, Dunaways's soap-opera like turn and some deeply campy "stupid model" moments. The movie is a fun, pretty and ungrounded mess. And over the past decade it has developed a sizable cult following.
Most view Eyes one of those "So Bad It's Great" cinematic guilty pleasures. While I can understand ascribing this uncomfortable thriller to that genre, I've never been certain that it should be regarded as a bad film.
A glam but deadly car crash in Columbus Circle, but what is being sold here?
I grew up in a fairly small town in Texas. We were not too far from Houston, but we did not always get movies when they "opened." More often than not, movies arrived to our town several weeks or a month after the movie had already been in circulation. This was the case with Eyes. It opened late into its run at our fairly new mall cineplex.
My father had no understanding of what was or wasn't appropriate for a child. He took me with him to see this movie. The woman who sold us out tickets already knew me as the kid who she would often pull out of a movie to ask where my parents were. I'm not sure if it was before or after the time my father took me to see Eyes of Laura Mars, but this theater manager pitched a fit when my father took me to see Looking for Mr. Goodbar.
Hurry! I Need more film! I'll push my skirt up further while you take care of that!
Her attempts to prevent my father from taking his little boy to see adult movies always failed. Mr. Goodbar was a traumatic experience. But Eyes was not one. In fact nothing I saw made my jaw drop or caused me any real confusion.
The thing I most remember about seeing this movie was that my father was forced to really get his shit together because no one was admitted after the first ten minutes of the movie's start. My father had the annoying habit of arriving at the middle of a movie and then staying to see the first half at the next screening. But he had to arrive on time for Eyes of Laura Mars. I also remember noting that he was truly glued to the screen. It seemed like the casually naked models and the violent photographs interested him.
I was not scared by the movie. While I had not yet become educated in filmmaking, I did know who John Carpenter was — and I was frustrated that the Halloween dude wasn't making a movie he wrote.
"This is Lulu & Michele! We're not home so go to Hell! But if you're not a horny creep, leave a message at the beep!"
Eyes of Laura Mars is not a truly bad movie. It may not be scary, but it has its share of intense moments. It also offers a rather lucid capture of 1970's NYC and its fashion scene.
Sony did issue the film to DVD, but the HD download currently available via iTunes is far superior to the non-remastered print that the ever-cheap Sony put on DVD. One major thing about the Sony DVD is that it features a film-length commentary from the late Irvin Kershner. In that commentary he speaks of not having had much knowledge of the fashion world at that time. He was surprised when he heard female models talking, disrobing, doing drugs and giggling like school girls.
A staunch liberal, Kershner was also more than a little repulsed by discovering that there seemed to be a misogynistic attitude toward women by an industry devoted to women as their focal demographic. This concerning misogyny would change the film's tone. No new comer to the Sexual Revolution, he was very much surprised by the attitude of the female models he encountered as well as what he saw as The Studio 54 Culture. Clearly this is what motivated Kershner.
Oh, the model's life and selling fashion! No prob with nudity or killing or being killed. But they do have problems with the color of the dresses… Sex, violence and Misogyny Sells Clothing!
Photography by Rebecca Blake
At the time of the film's release more than a few critics were annoyed by the ample use of casual nudity and the constant stream of violence against women. Kershner explains that he didn't need to include all the nudity and explicitness of the faked photographs, but these aspects of the plot tied to the world of fashion greatly disturbed and interested him. These aspects seemed to signal that this once simple slasher movie could serve as something a bit deeper in the form of societal and cultural commentary. Or so it seemed.
It wasn't so much the clothes that the photographers were wanting to capture as the sexuality of the models. And the models were more than happy to comply. Sex was their commodity and it was taking on a sinister tone from Kershner's perspective. The non-actor models didn't need to be asked or walked-thru to be nude for the film. They treated their scenes as they would a provocative fashion spread. Off came the clothing and on went the vapid conversing and drug-taking.
Kershner saw and attempted to capture a world in which the female model had no issue with being nude or posing as a victim, but their psyches were challenged when they had to wear "pink" or any color that they didn't like. Carpenter's original screenplay was re-crafted to "realistically" capture this world. A intriguing idea in theory does not always manage to fully morph onto the screen.
A lovely book for the late 1970's coffee table?
Kershner was very careful not to discuss too much about Faye Dunaway. It is no secret that she became frustrated with the making of the film but also the way in which it was promoted. This was really the first film in which Dunaway failed to connect to the production.
A deeply stylized and theatrical actor, Faye Dunaway always had a 1940's sensibility about her — hence her success in films like Bonnie and Clyde, The Thomas Crown Affair, Towering Inferno and Roman Polanski's classic film, Chinatown. She had managed to take her style of acting to a whole new level for Sidney Lumet's brilliant Network and won the Oscar.
As Laura Mars Faye Dunaway appears to be a bit lost. It often feels as if she is fighting against what Kershner wanted. Continually dressed in flowing robes or gowns, Laura Mars seems to edge toward Gothica. She is power-dressed with purpose and that purpose is not to be sexy.
Glam Gothica with a pretty flower hat, how is Laura Mars to compete with her abused models?
Tommy Lee Jones has to decide where to look as Faye Dunaway emotes for her life…
Surrounded by The Beautiful Elite of the modeling world, Dunaway is constantly subverting her assigned wardrobe to a new purposes. It seems almost comical to watch her photographing a fake car crash tragedy with her models either playing dead or cat-fighting in undies and minks. Kershner's commentary avoids much discussion, but it seems an odd choice that Dunaway's Laura Mars opts to hike up her skirt and do a Old-School Hollywood leg reveal as she shoots her pictures.
Decidedly not sexy, it just seems uncomfortable. Dunaway strictly refused any nudity in her love scenes with Tommy Lee Jones. But one suspects she desperately wanted in on some of the semi-nude cat fights she was left to "photograph." The audience is less interested in Dunaway's Laura as they are in the barely clothed fighting beauties amidst the wreckage.
The killer probes the ice pick into Laura's eye on the cover of her slick new book of KINK.
Eyes of Laura Mars gets the late 1970's NYC Fashion World down correctly. The clothes feel and look very much from the 1977 era. The fashions being photographed look legit. And the wealthy photographer may edge toward the dramatic, but her clothing is clearly upscale and in style.
Kershner also captures the feel and look of the true 1977 NYC. Hell's Kitchen, Columbus Circle and the Fashion District look like they are from another reality compared to now. This is most assuredly an on location shoot. The grime and grit plays a key role to the film. And although he did not shoot there, one of the movie's early moments features a PR party given in honor of Laura Mars' work and new book that could easily be mistaken for a Studio 54 event.
At this event, Kershner makes no excuses for the vapidity of models like Lulu and Michelle, but both Darlanne Fluegel and Lisa Taylor are comically believable in their roles. It is in this early scene we are given a glimpse into their characters' personalities.
Disco music blaring, the models pose in preparation for Laura's killing portrait…
The director is also to be credited for showing the importance of gay male culture within the world of Laura Mars without falling into homophobia. Little is actually articulated, but we know these men are gay. Rene Auberjonois delivers a solid performance as Laura's close friend and business manager. We not meant to make fun of him.
And while both Raul Julia and Brad Dourif are wasted, they put forward great work here. Tommy Lee Jones is also strong except when pitted against Dunaway's convulsively confusing turns. Jones is playing the role as realistically as possible, but he often finds himself in bad soap opera territory when kissing or making love to his leading lady. This is not his fault. Dunaway's work here often feels like that of an insecure fading movie star who is afraid of losing her place at the table. Sadly Kershner didn't seem to be strong enough to talk her down. This is of particular surprise given his track record for getting the best out of his actors. It is safe to say that Dunaway's finest work has been given under infamous duress with tempermental directors.
Roman Polanski or Barbet Schroeder anyone?
Art crime?
Faye Dunaway is probably more covered than comfortable amidst all this beautiful flesh. And murder.
While it was most definitely a fail on the part of Kershner to not better execute the horror of a film that was obviously intended to be a slasher flick, I doubt we would really remember this film if it had followed that path.
It should be noted that one of the few genuinely creepy moments in the movie is when we are limited to Laura Mars' POV which is trapped in the POV of the serial killer who is chasing her at full speed with intent to kill. Arte Kane's musical score is manically-pitched and when edited into this threatening but non-violent scene, it does illicit a good deal of tension.
Even still, there is a major bit of let down when acts of actual real-time murders happen. Thanks to the musical score and the trippy use of POV there is some suspense, but the cinematic pay-off in these slasher scenes feel like something you might have seen on Charlie's Angels.
Well, minus the nudity.
Learning how to shoot a handgun and ready for romance!
Faye Dunaway and Tommy Lee Jones
This is very little gore in this film's violence. Of course the film's Big Reveal which Columbia Studios built up by closing ticket sales after the first ten minutes of the movie, has never seemed at all shocking to me. Even as a child I had figured out the identity of the killer before the film decides to reveal it.
Even still, it is a nightmarish situation that is interesting when compared to the "fashion art" our heroine has been crafting with her stylishly perched skinny leg and handy Nikon camera. This is perhaps the film's most winning turn of horror — it is the film's use of murder as fashion and violent death as eroticism that leaves a queasy sort of taste on the cinematic palate.
Killing to sell a car…
Irvin Kershner's take on Carpenter's script may not have gone to the logical horror route of the Slasher Film, but it's twisted turns guide the audience to a surprisingly gruesome walk toward the pop culture of the future.
And Faye Dunaway's odd performance does leave an impression.
It should be noted that this performance does not straddle an artistic line as her work in the ill-advised Mommie Dearest. Instead her work as Laura Mars is consistently up-ending itself. The manic and insecure diva-ish turn has, over the years, added a level of paranoia.
This paranoia plays well into both schisms of the infamous movie: The Uncomfortable and The Cult of Camp.
Putting her best leg and high heeled foot forward. A promo shot of Faye Dunaway which she would later claim she disliked.
Perhaps it is unfair to lay Dunaway's failure all on her. She is given some very strange dialog:
While in a post orgasmic embrace she murmurs:
"I can't understand. [slight pause] how it's possible. [slightly longer pause] to live your whole life. [pause ] without someone. [slight pause] and be doing more or less OK. And then suddenly you find them. You recognize them."
cue lush love theme as Tommy Lee Jones plants a big smooch on her face.
What do those words even mean?
Faye Dunaway gets and gives more than an eyeful
Perhaps Eyes of Laura Mars is a bad movie. Or maybe it is simply flawed. It doesn't matter. Once you see it you will never forget it.
Matty Stanfield, 12.4.15
1970's Fashion Scene
1970's NYC Fashion
Arte Kane
Camp Film
Cinematic Intention
Columbia Studios
Dark Eroticism
Darlanne Fluegel
Female Beauty
Iconic Movie Poster Art
Inapprorpriate
Jon Peters
Libralism
Lulu & Michelle
Post-Feminst
R-Rating
Raul Juilia
Rene Auberjonis
Sex and Violence
Sex Objects
Slasher Movie
Societal Misogyny
Star Wars Franchise
The Big Reveal
The Cult of Camp
The Uncomfortable Film
Time Capsule Movie
Towering Inferno
Unintentional Camp
December 4th by Matty Stanfield in	1970's NYC 1970's Pop Culture American Film Art Horror BDSM Brutality Camp Camp Classic Cinematic Arts Cinematic Eroticism Cinematic Error Cinematic Ethics Cinematic History Cinematic Intent Cinematic Motivation Cinematic Provocation Cinematography Columbia Pictures Controversial Film Cultural Commentary Disco Culture Disturbing Eccentric Cinema Erotica Eroticism Eyes of Laura Mars Faye Dunaway Film Film Acting Film Actors Film Art Film Criticsm Film Directors Film Evaluation Film History Film of Note Film Score Film Theory Horror Film Human Brutality Human Cruelty Human Psyche Iconic Film Irvin Kershner John Carpenter KINK Legendary Actor Lost Film Art Marketing Misogyny Movie Poster Art Movies Musical Score Perception Perspective Perversity Photography Pop Art Pop Culture Problematic Cinema Provacitve Provocative Film Rebecca Blake Serial Killer Sex Sells Sexual Assault Sexual Revolution Sexual Violence Sexuality Slasher Films Societal Commentary Studio Film Subversive Victim Victimizer Victor J. Kemper Violence
Wake Up Screaming: Cinematic Imprint or the Genius of Wes Craven
On Monday, August, 31st The New York Times shocked me. It was there that I read Wes Craven's obituary. Another of the most culturally important American filmmakers was gone.
"Wes Craven, a master of horror cinema and a proponent of the slasher genre who was best known for creating the Nightmare on Elm Street and Scream franchises, died on Sunday at his home in Los Angeles. He was 76."
It is always sad when someone dies. Family and friends lost someone far more significant than an iconic filmmaker. Mr. Craven was a father, husband and friend. For the rest of us who did not know him, the loss is far less, but all the same impactful sad blow.
A key member of the innovative and creative Film Masters of his generation who managed to lift their cinematic work higher than the genre or audiences anticipated. Wes Craven's early films appeared to be in line with typical Grind House or Drive-In horror movies of the time, but they offered something far more artistic.
Robert Englund is ready for his close-up
Wes Craven, 1984
Cinematography| Jacques Haitkin
The goal was to scare us with a degree of cinematic intelligence that was unheard of for low-budget horror at that time. Brian De Palma, David Cronenberg, John Carpenter, George Romero, Argento and Tobe Hooper were also among this group. They made movies to attract this audience base, but with artistic intention that lifted them and the genre of horror to a whole new level.
After reading the shocking news in The Times, I found myself thinking of how Craven's films had impacted my life and my psyche. And those of my childhood friends and our culture. Despite the fact that art takes up most of our spare time and conversations, all too often we forget just how much art has seeped into our beings.
Walking through a department store a Muzak version of an old pop song plays above us as we navigate toward a register. Even the poor "revisit" of a great song can momentarily transport us back in time. We scroll through movies available via VOD and spot an old film that resonates on multiple levels. These are two minor examples, but so much art is tied to our past, our experiences (individual and shared) and often serve as some cathartic or even healing emotional source. Sometimes there is light to be found in the dark.
The first time I was aware of Wes Craven's name was in relation to his iconic A Nightmare on Elm Street. Back in 1984 on a crisp November Friday afternoon it opened in my hometown. some friends and I decided to ditch the second half of the school day to make our way to a cinema long since gone. We were off to see a historic movie.
Can you remember when movie posters were still works of art?
This cinema was one of two that was strict on "carding" to follow the "R-rating rule" and not all of us were yet 17. We took a few hits of weed to work up our "courage" and act like we owned the bodies of 18 year olds. It worked. The lady sold each of us a ticket.
We had seen ads for A Nightmare on Elm Street on TV, but none of us really knew what to expect or what we were about to see. This is an aspect of The Film Experience that has long since faded away. It is almost impossible to attend a screening of any movie in the 21st Century without knowing every single aspect of the casting, the production, the plot and an often anticipated idea of how the movie is "supposed" to make us feel. Even before the movie starts we are usually forced to sit through "making of" commercials for new TV shows or upcoming movies.
For those of you too young to know what it was like before social media and 24/7 marketing, going to a movie was often a serious proposition. While all of us worked part time, a $4.75 matinae was a gamble. Of course if the movie sucked, we could always spend an hour or two playing on video games in the lobby. PacMan, Space Invaders, Centipede and pinball were always a fun compensation. (you just needed to have a friend with drilled-string coin and you were golden)
As A Nightmare on Elm Street started it was clear we were in for something different.
Um, your slasher horror movie just took a very strange new turn…
This was a slasher movie, but it was deeply demented and Surreal in the way it pulled it's characters to their ends or limits. It also had a very sinister subplot for the monster, Freddy Kruger. This was some sort of paranormal being who had been a serial pedophile rapist and murderer. Despite all of this, the movie was still fun. We jumped, we laughed and teased each other as we left the cinema to head to our respective jobs or homes praying that we would not be caught for skipping school. But that night I could not sleep. For whatever reason, I was haunted by the way Freddy killed "Glen." The dude had been lying on his bed with his headphones on. I had a whole lot of trouble falling to sleep that night and for several nights to
Glen just wants to chill on his bed with some music. Freddy has other plans…
come. I didn't know "Glen" was Johnny Depp. That hadn't clicked on my register yet. This was largely a cast of unknowns which created a somehow more shocking vibe. Back then I had a habit of lying on my bed with my clunky "Radio Shack Realistic" cushioned head phones and listening to music. This was how I feel asleep. At this time that music was usually Pink Floyd, The Who or Led Zeppelin. But all I could think of were those blade fingers grabbing me down into Hell with my blood and guts spewing out all over my room. I believe I changed to Fleetwood Mac for the next week or so. It is funny to think back to that feeling, but it was real to me. My friends had similar reactions. Two others admitted to sleeping with the lights on.
This was the interesting power of A Nightmare on Elm Street. In 1984 it was a completely new approach to horror. It was a horror that came in dreams in a very disturbing way. The cinematic trope of Surrealism was not fully formed in out minds. We were not yet sophisticated enough to notice the admittedly low-fi effects. At that time, they seemed pretty real. It is also important to note that we all laughed throughout the movie. It was funny. But it was also horrifying and intense.
Poor Nancy. She better wake her ass up! The experience of relaxing in the tub was about to change for a while…
It worked its way under our collective skin. It was like riding a really dark roller coaster. It was cinematic magic.
In the coming year or so, Freddy Krueger would somehow become a rather disturbing "anti-hero" — the sequels were not of interest to me or most friends. They were more like dark comedies than horror movies. And gradually, A Nightmare on Elm Street would become a sort of twisted comedy.
Watching it now it still amuses me. But I now can see the imperfections of low-fi special effects. "Glen" is now Johnny Depp pre-stardom. Ideas of his later career cloud my ability to access the movie in the same way. The idea of Freddy Krueger has become tainted for me. Children dress up as Krueger on Halloween. This pedophile sadist character has become a sort of family-friendly cartoon that I find more than a little worrying.
But long after the blu-ray has been ejected, replaced in it's blue jewel box and I'm drifting off to sleep, a creepy thought crosses my mind: "Oh, fuck. I hope I don't dream of blade fingers pulling me into my mattress!"
Painting the bedroom "Glen"
That teenage thought still comes up.
Mostly, however, the movie brings me back to a time long gone. This odd, gritty and iconic movie is forever seared into my brain. Like a great rock song, it brings me back to a time in my life when drugs were not a problem, sex was still an idea, all my friends were still alive, my heart had not yet been broken, divorce had not altered my views on life and one could see a movie at the cinema for under $5.
There were of course a great many other horror movies we saw and enjoyed. But Children of the Corn, Splatter University, Fright Night, Pieces, Christine and Sleepaway Camp were all easily forgotten. Nancy her creepy mom (Ronnie Blakley of Nashville fame) and their tormentor has never left my mind. As Freddy snatches up Nancy's mom it is both comical and oddly disturbing. Craven was smart enough to tie it into dream logic.
Robert Englund teases before he strikes…
Craven, De Palma, Carpenter, Romero, Hooper, Argento and Cronenberg created films that will forever hold a place in our collective psyche and memory. Wes Craven was particularly solid with casting and creating situations that tied into the culture of the day. This is not to say that the others didn't. All of these filmmakers created and create work impossible to forget. But Wes Craven had a unique ability to approach horror with a skewed sense of humor without sacrificing the scare element.
It would be not too long after A Nightmare on Elm Street that I would see Craven's directorial debut, The Last House on the Left via VHS. The slightly out-of-focus and cropped VHS appearance added a strange sort of disturbing element. Another thing of the past. Though, to be honest, it is nice to not wonder what was lost in those non-anamorphic versions.
"To avoid fainting…"
The Last House on the Left
Cinematography | Victor Hurwitz
I first saw it at a friend's house while his parents were out of town. There were about five of us. Once again, we really didn't know what to expect other than this film was from the same director as A Nightmare on Elm Street.
We had no idea how dark and grim this mean little movie would be, but we soon found out.
Set 1972 upstate New York, this movie presents two pretty high school girls off to the city to see a rock concert. Their paths cross with four sociopaths who lure, brutally rape, torture and kill both. The special effects are low-fi, but this film was truly shocking to our eyes at the time. We were all kind of stunned at what we were seeing. None of us said anything. We simply watched in silence as the brutality took place. When the film's main protagonist manages to say a prayer and slip into a lake, the leader of this gang shoots her dead.
It is not "scary." It is horrible.
This is not a horror film, this is a film about horror…
Craven didn't stop there. The atrocities committed by these vile people are about to be met with an untethered parental vengeance that knows no bounds. Their vengeance is not cathartic. It is actually as bleak as what has been done to their daughter and her friend.
The film ended. The FBI warning on the VHS tape came up.
I'm not sure any of us actually discussed the film beyond the basic "Holy shit!" "What the fuck?" kind of reactions we would normally shared.
The truth is we were not scared, we were horrified. None of us knew how to even articulate what we had just seen. One friend commented, "Man. That was some hardcore shit."
This must have been in 1985. I had not yet become the full-throttle film snob I am today. But I knew a good deal about movies even then. It was clear to me that this low-budget Grind House movie was a very warped retread of Ingmar Bergman's tragically beautiful, The Virgin Spring. And it was also clear to me that this film had an agenda.
Comparing Craven's film to The Virgin Spring is a futile effort. There was nothing "beautiful" about The Last House on the Left. Most importantly, there was no hope. I can remember wanting to point this out, but opting not to do so. This was Beaumont, Texas. Having knowledge of foreign film was not exactly cool in this circle of stoners.
Not too long ago I saw Craven's The Last House on the Left again. This must have been shortly before the lame "remake" was released. Unlike A Nightmare on Elm Street, The Last House on the Left still carries the same gut-punch as it did when I saw it in 1985. It is a bleak and disturbing vision. Wes Craven pushes the envelope just far enough without the film turning into a perverse celebration of human cruelty. It remains a brutal depiction of just how horrible human nature can be.
This angry little movie is neither cautionary or drenched in cultural commentary. It is what it is: a study in human cruelty.
As in life, this film presents a story in which the human capacity for inhumanity knows no bounds. It may not be a fun viewing, but it is a very powerful one. The Last House on the Left is a deeply disturbing and important film of note.
Craven never stopped making great movies. 1988's The Serpent and the Rainbow still stands it's surreal and creepy ground.
"There is no escape from the grave."
Cinematography | John Lindley
Around the time of David Lynch's iconic TV series, Twin Peaks, Craven would make borrow two of Lynch's more memorable supporting cast members for The People Under the Stairs. A darkly funny horror film which is really a comment on racism.
His Scream franchise would reach a whole new generation of viewers.
Drew Barrymore is given yet another iconic screen moment…
Cinematography | Mark Irwin
Mixing comedy with horror like only he could. Drew Barrymore's small role is every bit as unsettling now as it was then. I think it is worth mentioning that Craven even ventured into the more "respectable" when he directed the successful Music of the Heart staring Meryl Streep for which she and the film's music received Academy Award nominations. I didn't care for this film, but it speaks a great deal to Craven's skills that he could so seamlessly move into an entirely different genre with such success.
Wes Craven is gone, but his work will continue to live, inspire, be copied, remade and scare the hell out of someone at any given time.
Freddy snatches up Nancy's Mom.
Wes Crave
1939 – 2015, RIP
Film Artist
September 4th by Matty Stanfield in	1970's Horror 1980's Horror A Nightmare on Elm Street Academy Awards Argento Artistic Intention blade fingers Brian De Palma Brutality Cinematic Franchise Cinematic Impact Cinematic Imprint Cinematography Collective Psyche Controversial Film Creative Arts Cruelty Cult Film Cultural Commentary Dark Comedy David Cronenberg David Lynch Disturbing Dream Logic Drew Barrymore Drive-In Movie Fear Film Film Art Film Artists Film Criticism Film Snob Film Theory Freddy Krueger George A. Romero Grind House Heather Langenkamp Human Brutality Human Cruelty Human Horror Iconic Film Ingmar Bergman innocence Jacques Haitkin John Carpenter Johnny Depp Kidnapping Led Zeppelin Legendary Filmmaker Memory Meryl Streep Movie Poster Art Music of the Heart Parental Vengeance Pink Floyd Provocative Film Racism Radio Shack Rape Resonation Robert Englund Ronee Blakley Scream Serial Killer Shock Cinema Societal Commentary Stoners Surrealism The New York Times The People Under The Stairs The Serpent and the Rainbow The Virgin Spring The Who Tobe Hooper Torture Twin Peaks Vengeance Victor Hurwitz Wes Craven
Slavery, Human Cruelty, Survival, Horror, Maternity and Rememory : Translating "Beloved" to the Screen
Within the first minute of Jonathan Demme's 1998 film, Beloved, we are told that we are entering a cold and lonely house in 1865 Ohio. As Tak Fukimoto's careful camera approaches this odd house we already know that The Civil War has only just ended and the legal abolishment of slavery is most likely only started to sink into the American culture. Barely two more minutes pass before we become aware that something paranormal is threatening this newly-freed African-American household. Is it demonic? Is it a menacing ghost? It doesn't take long before this dangerous force is openly discussed. The truly jolting aspect of these brief discussions is the passive manner in which the topics are engaged.
The film's main character seems to be simultaneously depressed and almost relieved that her two young sons have just runaway. It is only a brief after thought that Sethe might have been able to hang on to her sons if she had made more of an "effort." She ponders that maybe if she had moved her fatherless family to a different house or an entirely different place things might have worked out or be better. An old woman who we understand to be Sethe's mother-in-law and grandmother to Sethe's children, shakes her head and says "What'd be the point? Not a house in the country ain't packed to the rafters with some dead Negro's grief. We lucky our ghost is a baby. My husband spirit come back? Or yours? Don't talk to me! You lucky. You got one child left, still pullin at your skirts. Be thankful."
Within another few minutes the story travels several years in time. Baby Suggs, the wise mother-in-law, has died and Sethe's daughter, Denver, has grown into a sad young woman. A weary but upbeat man shows up at the house. This is clearly an old friend. After the two friends catch-up we can see that there is a vaguely shared erotically loving connection here. Sethe leads her old friend, Paul D, into her dilapidated, creepy-looking old house. Barely into the house Paul D stops. Looking down the Sethe's hallway he becomes terrorfied.
"Good God! What kind of evil you got in there?"
"It's not evil..It's just… It's just sad. Come on. Just step through."
Jonathan Demme, 1998
Cinematography | Tak Fujimoto
Oprah Winfrey's Sethe's guidance is given to Danny Glover's Paul D, but it also also seems as if the audience is invited to enter into this home of profound loneliness, sadness, fear and hidden horrors. Beloved is challenging, complex, graphically violent and viscerally disturbing film. Beloved is also almost as difficult to approach from a film criticism angle. Jonathan Demme's movie, like it's source novel is a masterful, shocking and cogently artistic work. It seems almost impossible that a white male filmmaker created this largely experimental neo-gothic and Feminist examination. It is a profound work, but the use of "horror" as metaphor sometimes creates results that seem almost oppositional to Toni Morrison's brilliant and Pulitzer Price winning 1987 novel. It is hard to miss the allegory and metaphor contained within the pages of her book. The crucial ideas are not always so clear in the film adaptation.
As Alan A. Stone noted in his 1999 article in The Boston Review titled Oprah's Nightmare, the esteemed and amazing media mogul "wanted Beloved to be an experience, not just entertainment. The film, like Toni Morrison's novel, was meant to answer the question, what was it like to be a slave? In answering it, Morrison makes her readers feel, perhaps for the first time, the extraordinary psychological damage done by slavery. There is, says one of her characters, "a kind of madness that keeps one from going mad."
With the gift of close to 20 years hindsight, it is clear that Oprah Winfrey's decade long desire to bring Morrision's book to the screen is largely successful. Sometimes the movie's success is achieved in spite of itself. No doubt, the idea of translating this book into a movie was more than a daunting task. This was a task that Winfrey was more than thrilled to pursue, but it was not just from her love of Toni Morrison and her book that drove her to get this epic film made — it was even more than passion. If you should ever read Oprah Winfrey's book, Journey to Beloved, you will discover that Winfrey viewed the task as a personal requirement and unrelenting sense of duty. Toni Morrison's novel is more than just an important literary masterpiece.
Epigraph:
"I will call them 'my people' who are not my people; and I will call her 'my loved one' who is not my loved one,"
Dedicated to the Africans and their descendants who died as a result of the Atlantic slave trade."
by Toni Morrison, 1987
Toni Morrison's novel is a vital depiction of not only the abhorrent and almost unimaginable horror of slavery — it is a work that strives to remind readers that while slavery might have been abolished in 1865, it still looms as more than just a lingering injustice. The United States legalized slavery of the past remains as a looming shadow of an entire race of people. Going even deeper, Toni Morrison's novel ties the history of slavery accurately to the dynamics that run through African-Americans lives. Dynamics and understandings of faith, family, fatherhood and motherhood continue to be challenged by the remaining shared pain of a past that is horrifyingly still clutching onto the present.
Toni Morrison's Beloved is also inspired by Margaret Garner, a Pre-Civil War era slave who opted to kill her two-year-old daughter to save her from suffering the fate of slavery. This act shocked not only our nation but the world.
From the Cincinnati Gazette.
A famous trial ensued in which Garner was tried for murder. For those of you who may not have studied too much regarding the atrocity of our country's Slave Trade and Slavery — it is important to note that it was far more common for mother's to kill their children than is usually discussed. It was a sad reality and often hidden from view in more ways than one. However, Margaret Garner was on the run from Slavery and her owners when her family was pushed into a small home as US Marshals surrounded to take them back into custody when she killed her daughter. This practice of filicide was suddenly thrust into public-awareness.
At the trial, Lucy Stone, an important American Abolitionist and Suffragist, took the stand to defend Garner. Not one to play into societal or cultural restraints of her time — Lucy Stone's defense of Garner was based on a then very real but "unspoken" sexual "use" or more accurately "abuse" of white male slave owners toward their female slaves.
Unfathomable human cruelty — except it not only happened. It was accepted.
Something that had been a painful day-to-day existence for Margaret Garner. The concept of The Maternal has been perversely changed within the minds of many female slaves. Most tragically, it is not hard to understand how and why this happened.
Lucy Stone pulled no punch when she reminded everyone present (must of whom were demanding Garner's execution) that the faces of Garner's children shared as much in common with Garner's white owner as they did with their mother. Stone then publicly and famously stated:
"The faded faces of the Negro children tell too plainly to what degradation the female slaves submit. Rather than give her daughter to that life, she killed it. If in her deep maternal love she felt the impulse to send her child back to God, to save it from coming woe, who shall say she had no right not to do so?"
on set of Beloved
Photograph | Ken Regan
Oprah Winfrey and her fellow filmmakers may have stumbled a bit in capturing Toni Morrison's novel, but it is far too incremental to use as a valid criticism. If Winfrey and Jonathan Demmes' movie made even one person seek out Morrision's novel it would give the film merit. As it turned out the movie would inspire a whole new generation to read Toni Morrison's unforgettable and rightfully unforgiving book. And while one could debate the differences between the film and the novel — it would be a mute discussion. Beloved, the movie, works incredibly well. Even still, it is interesting that Winfrey sought out a white filmmaker who had ever really even made one "serious" film. And that film, Silence of the Lambs, is both horrific and often satirical in approach. It even more surprising that she sought out screenwriter, Richard LaGravenese. A very competent white film writer, his work is often "hit or miss" — on the one hand he had written the screenplays for both The Fisher King (for which he received The Academy Award) and the highly underrated dark comedy, The Ref, but he had also written the screenplays for such duds as Diane Keaton's Unstrung Heroes and Barbra Streisand's off-kilter, The Mirror Has Two Faces.
Beloved's wrath become temporarily fixed on the family dog. Sethe calmly forces the poor dog's eyes back into their sockets. A scene that caused more than a few to flee the cinema.
It is difficult to understand her confidence LaGravenese could handle capturing the heart of this book. I don't intent to dismiss LaGravense's talent. It's just that this movie operates within an entirely different "universe" compared to what one anticipates in his film scripts. Though, Winfrey and Demme would later enlist both Adam Brooks and Akosua Busia to assist LaGravenese in screenwriting duties. Once again, Brooks is a white male who had only written one "successful" screenplay at the time, Meg Ryan's ill-advised romantic comedy, French Kiss. As for Busia, she had become friendly with Winfrey during the production of The Color Purple in which she was a supporting actor. She had never written for the screen at the time. However, Winfrey was confident that would be a valuable member of the writing team. As odd as these choices seem, they appear to have been good ideas.
A topic, concept and idea of great import and interest to Toni Morrison's Beloved is "re-memoring" or "rememory." This is a simple idea, but it was a new one to many if not all readers of Morrison's brilliant 1987 novel. The idea is that our leading character, Sethe, is often found remembering memories. It is an idea not too far removed from PTSD survivors and the way in which the psyche often twists "reality" when trying to recall or revisit a past traumatic event. Beloved's Sethe mental revisit to her past takes on this aspect of rememory in which memories serves as sort of triggers off-skewed or altered-perceptions of places, experiences, people and feelings that when described take on a level of unexpected power or — even more alarmingly, are recalled in almost distant or passive way.
Billie Holiday sang of "Strange Fruit" and the tragedies of Slavery continue to haunt not only the film's characters but our current reality.
Rememoring is not accurate but it is a sad reality of surviving a life filled with unfathomable horrors. In the novel, it is clear that Sethe's re-memoring is both a literal situation for the plot but also an allegorical emphasis for The African American Experience. It is also accurate in applying it to The White American Experience. However it must be stressed, that the full context of rememory related to past and current African-American Experience is not accessible in the same way and is limited in full understanding to Non-African Americans.
Maternal love comes with a cost…
Oprah Winfrey / Kimberly Elise
How could it be?
No White person can possibly know what it is like to walk in the shoes of a Person of Color much less understand the way the past refuses to stop impacting the lives of African American people. Even within the hearts of the most caring and politically-active White people, there are limitations of access.
The cruelty, unfairness and horrific ramification of Slavery and its lasting imprint on identities have been shaped by not only a horrifying history and current state of racial relations and self-awareness, but as Morrison asserts there remains a devastating sort of Shared Cultural Rememory for African Americans. A re-memory that haunts identities, understanding, self-value, societal value and the on-going cruelties that pollute the reality of being American. The concept does not just end there — it operates within the reality of the individual.
Sethe looks out of her cursed home and sees far more than "reality" — she still sees her past hiding, slumbering and waiting to return to reclaim itself or to seek vengeance. For Sethe, there is no peace.
The impact of "rememory" from Toni Morrison's novel illustrates how this "memory" is not so much a remembrance but a re-occuring reality. Just as it looms over an entire race of human beings, rememory is still happening to Sethe:
"what I remember is a picture floating around out there outside my head … even if I don't think it, even if I die, the picture of whatI did, or knew, or saw is still out there. Right in the place where it happened."
from Toni Morrison's Beloved.
Perhaps one of the reasons Winfrey sought a highly originally talented and somewhat eccentric filmmaker as Jonathan Demme to helm her film is because she knew he would bring an insight that would be limited in understanding the immediate importance of Morrison's novel, but oddly effective in bridging a stronger link to culture because of that limitation. There is something to be said of the way the movie begins.
Icepick Rage
Cinematography | Tak Fujimotot
Beloved begins as if the film director and the writers have assumed too much. Despite the success of Morrison's novel, many of the people who first attended screening of this movie were unaware of it. Winfrey knew this. Demme's assumption that his audience would be familiar with the novel immediately tosses the audience into a world of shock and cruelty that worked in the film's favor.
I had read the book, but I remember my jaw dropping.
Kimberly Elise's "Denver" faces her mother's past as directly as her mother.
Wait! Is that Oprah Winfrey? What is she doing to that poor dog? Holy shit! Is Oprah pushing and hammering the dog's eyeballs back into the dog's eye sockets?!?! Did I just see that? Hold up. Did that mirror just crack. Why are those two little boys so horrified? Why are they running away? How can they leave their sad little sister all alone on the creepy stairs? What was whipping that poor dog around? Why isn't Oprah upset? She walks by her daughter and folds clothes while this elderly woman lectures her that she should consider herself lucky.
This cinematic disorientation is so phantasmagorical, we've hardly caught our breath by the time Danny Glover's Paul D shows up. As his character realizes that there is some sort of supernatural entity wrecking havoc in the house he is bathed in a light of red. Oprah's character calms him down and he accepts what she says as truth. There is no hint of doubt. Paul D gets the situation and understands Sethe. The movie takes another unexpected turn in the eroticism shared between Sethe and Paul D.
Oprah Winfrey and Danny Glover
It isn't that the sight of Paul D nude and freshly bathed in Sethe's kitchen is shocking. It is actually beautifully shot and quite erotic. As Sethe begins to open up and allows her walls to go down to allow Paul D's comfort, we first see the deep scars on Sethe's back. Paul D is not shocked or turned off. He caresses Sethe and accepts her beauty sensually. Her scars are a part of who she is, just as his weariness is a part of himself.
Sethe relaxes and allows Paul D's comforts
Oprah Winfrey / Danny Glover
The eroticism and love are beautiful. What jolted audiences in 1998 will most likely still jolt a new generation today.
There is something quite effective to see all of this happen and realize that we are seeing Oprah Winfrey realistically playing the part. Oprah is more than a "star" or "icon" — she symbolizes all that we hold dear. Raising herself out of the ashes of a an abusive childhood to the role of news anchor, to Chat TV Show host to actor to International fame. A fame she is not squandered on petty vanity — Oprah has always used her struggles, her intelligence, her charm and her power to help rather than self-promote. She changed the way we look at life, literature, art and always puts her money to fund assistance and effective change. Oprah Winfrey has saturated our world with good intention and hope.
She has played a crucial role in the shaping our culture for the better at very end of the 20th and beginning of the 21st Centuries in ways more profound than any politicians, the Steve Jobs, the Bill Gates or the Mark Zuckerbergs. A very winnable argument could be made that Oprah Winfrey is the most culturally significant person of our time. This presents a greater impact to Beloved than can be articulated.
Physical and Mental Scars of Slavery
It is revelatory to see "Our Oprah" in this role. It isn't really so much shocking as it is a jolt and a reminder that there is a reason she has invested her money, her time, her energy and her skills into what appears to be such an experimental movie.
And of course, this presents the most unsettling aspect of the film adaptation. Is this a high art horror movie? It sure feels like one. But as soon as the audience settles into the idea that we are watching a sort of metaphorical horror film, Demme pulls us into rememory — suddenly we see the hope offered by faith and church revivals. We begin to feel Sethe and Denver soften with the presence of Paul D. Serving as husband, father, lover and protector — Paul D brings some hope, love and peace to this house of horror and sadness.
But don't dare relax. All of that foreshadowing is about to take form from the depths of an old river.
Grief, Sadness, Rage, Guilt, Pain and Human Horror Personified.
Thandie Newton as
Is this is a manifestation of guilt? Of fear? Or is the reincarnation of the little girl that Sethe opted to murder rather than to allow her to grow into the pain of life as a slave? The origin of Sethe's Beloved is not so important. At least not immediately. Thandie Newton's Beloved is a stunningly beautiful personification of a half-formed being. Drooling, reaching and seeming in pain — this erie beauty is almost incapable of calming. She clings to her mother, Sethe as if she will vanish without her mother's comfort. She is equally odd in her relation to her sister, Denver.
Tending to the chicken koop with her sister takes an unexpected turn.
And Beloved begins to form an inappropriate erotic desire for her mother's lover. Beloved is at once hope, love, threat, danger and pain formed into beguiling sexually-charged beauty. Thandie Newton's performance is as brilliant as it is problematic.
Thandie Newton drools as the half-formed
The character of Beloved is an odd challenge to form into a character from every perspective. But perhaps the most challenging for the actor who must play this "idea" or "projection" of a human rememoried. All the more unsettling is that Newton's style of acting deeply contrasts with the other three main actors. Winfrey, Glover and young Kimberly Elise all play their roles deeply grounded in natural realism. Their reactions may seem "off" but they feel like all-too-real people. Thandie Newtons' performance is experimental — at turns animalistic, mentally-challenged, child-like, demonic and dangerous. It is as if she is from a whole other world or movie. As desperately as Sethe and Denver want Beloved to fit into their world, it is a losing battle and a desire that can never be fulfilled.
Kimberly Elise, Oprah Winfrey and Thandie Newton on set
As the film soars through at just short of 3 hours that feel more like 90 minutes — the audience is pulled through a world of repugnant cruelty, torture and hyper-realistic violence. By the time 30 townswomen show up on the step of Stehe's front door we are not even surprised to discover that they have arrived to perform an exorcism of the house, Sethe and Beloved. These women have joined as one to save this family from being completely consumed by a heritage of savagery, pain, sadness and trauma.
Beloved ultimately brought Sethe and her family true Hell whether it was intended or secretly desired. She does not exist independently. She has been summoned as much from Evil as from Good. She seems to offer forgiveness for Sethe but at a price that is far too high to pay. A truly insane Sethe is rescued by the community of African-American former female slaves. They pray and aim their crosses and Beloved who appears to be swollen with child is supernaturally sent back to the place from which she came. The exorcism appears to have worked. But there is faint feeling that this relief is only temporary.
As Paul D tries to comfort Sethe, she tells him that Beloved was her "best thing." It is to the filmmaker and Danny Glovers' shared skills that there isn't the slightest feeling of the contrite or easy-solution when he tells Sethe that she is wrong. "Sethe, you are your best thing."
Danny Glover / Oprah Winfrey
Even if it will be a temporary moment of calm, one can't but hope that Sethe and Paul D will be able to move on with their lives and share in the joys that Denver is able to discover on her own. But as much as the film seems to strain to create it's own world, it is firmly tied to Toni Morrison's extraordinary novel. Sethe and Paul D are not those of some freed slaves who can repress and dissociate from their past. They have tried but they can't. Their true identities, suffered horrors and shared rememories have already forced a sort of reintegration of their selves. These are not fragmented people. It is not as dismal as it sounds, there is a freedom to be found in the truth. The problem is that the indignities of Slavery's past do not seem to resolve. This is a wounded country whose scars run deep. It will take a hell of lot more than thirty Bible-thumping strong women to cast out the demons infested in our culture.
Where can we find hope?
I certainly do not hold any clue of an answer, but the one thing I take away from Oprah Winfrey's dedication and sense of duty:
We cannot deny the truth. We must take ownership of the past. We must destroy the Confederate Flag ideology that would attempt to disguise racism as "history" or worse yet a false and evil "pride" in the wrong side of history.
The lingering rememory of Slavery's rape, degradation, torture and atrocities of an entire race continue to plague American Culture.
In the end, Oprah Winfrey and Jonathan Demmes' film failed to fully secure "buy-in" and approval from Film Critics of the time. Audiences attended in mass when it was first released, but those audiences soon re-treated. Many mistake this film for a Disney Project, but in truth Touchstone Pictures put in little of the film's budget. Most to the money they invested was in the form of distribution and promotion. The film's budget is not clear. Estimates range from $50,000,000 to $80,ooo,ooo. The production was shared between Jonathan Demme's production company, Clinica Estetico, and Winfrey's Harpo Films. The rumor is that Winfrey put in $50,000,00 of her own money into the movie. The film ended up only earning just under $30,000,000 at the box office. It was issued to DVD but is no longer in-print. But Amazon.com still has plenty of copies remaining and the film is available for on-line purchase or rental. It is most definitely worth your time to experience it.
While Beloved failed to achieve the success it intended. It stands alone as a brave, powerful, unforgettable and truly profound film. An achievement born out of a personal sense of duty. While things may have gotten bumpy or even confused in translation — there is no denying its message. Oprah Winfrey and Jonathan Demme created an amazing film against all odds.
Nothing can diminish that.
Jonathan Demme and Oprah Winfrey on set, 1997
Jonathan Demme agrees with many of the film's supporters that it's ultimate box office failure can be blamed on Disney who wanted a quicker box office pay-off and pulled the movie just as "word of mouth" was started to be heard so that they could the ridiculous Adam Sandler film, Water Boy into the cinemas that were then occupied by the R-rated Beloved.
Vanity Fair, France, 2014
Photograph | FABRICE DALL'ANESE
In 2013, Winfrey was asked about the "failure" of Beloved. She is quoted as having said:
"To this day I ask myself, was it a mistake? Was it a mistake to not try and make a more commercial film? To take some things out and tell the story differently so that it would be more palatable to an audience? Well, if you wanted to make a film that everybody would see, then that would be a mistake. I was pleased with the film that we did because it represented to me the essence of the Beloved book."
Photograph | Mark Seliger
I refuse to accept that Beloved was a failure. If anything, we failed it.
A Haunting
Abolistionist
Akosu Busia
Clinica Estetico
Cultural Rememory
Fabrice Dall'Anese
Harpo Productions
Ken Regan
Kimberly Elise
Literary Masterpiece
The Power of Oprah
The White American Experience
July 25th by Matty Stanfield in	Adam Brooks Adaptation African American History Akosua Busia American Film American History American Slave Trade Art Horror Beatings Beloved Cinematic Allegory Cinematic Metaphor Cinematic Motivation Cinematography Civil Rights Controversial Film Cultural Commentary Cultural Memory Danny Glover Exorcism Experimental Film Faith Family Dynamics Feminist Filicide Film Art Film Criticism Film History Film Theory Ghosts Gothica Graphic Violence Guilt Historical Fiction Human Cruelty Independent Film Jonathan Demme Life's Dream Lucy Stone Margaret Garner Maternity Mother's Milk Motherhood Oprah Winfrey Political Activisim Possession Provocative Film Pulitzer Prize Rage Rape Rememory Richard LaGravenese Sadness Sense of Duty Sexual Assault Sexual Violence Slavery Societal Commentary Surrealism Survivor Tak Fujimoto The Paranormal Toni Morrison Torture Wrath
The San Francisco Hiss or The Polarizing Impact of Jason Banker's Felt
Jason Banker, 2015
I was well acquainted with Jason Banker's fist film, Toad Road. I love his first film. If you have not seen it, seek it out. Toad Road is streaming via Netflix and AmazonPrime. So I was excited when I had a rare opportunity to see his second and latest movie, Felt, last year. At that time Felt had only had two official screenings. I had no idea regarding the subject of the film when I first saw it. Felt was so such a jolt of the senses my jaw had fallen leaving my mouth open in a mixed state of awe, confusion and shock. I knew I liked Banker's new film, but it filled my head with so many ideas, challenged my personal ideas of cinematic reality and was deeply unsettled. I was unable to form a clear opinion to write anything that would matter. This didn't thrill the individuals who had asked me to write a summary and review. As promotion for the film began I avoided reading any reviews or much in the way of commentary. Aside from a couple of interviews with Jason Banker, I only watched the two trailers.
It would be June of 2015 before Felt would reach San Francisco's Roxy Cinema. I do not enjoy The Roxy. I'm sorry. I just don't like seeing movies there.
The Roxy Movie Theatre is a historical building. It is actually the second oldest continuously operating movie theater in the country. The Roxy is an odd experience within and of itself. No matter how hard the owners and the city have tried, years of decay have created an odd atmosphere. There are two screens. One of the screens is sort of disconnected from the other. It almost feels like an after thought from the late 1970's or the early 1980's. I've never had an enjoyable viewing experience there. I think this is because of all our cinemas, The Roxy tends to attract all groups of The San Francisco Cinematic Audience under one roof. The San Francisco Cinematic Audience can be a strange mix and one is most likely to encounter it at The Roxy. Situated in the prime real estate of The Mission it is a natural magnet. I break down the SF Cinematic Audience into 3 stereo types: Hardcore Film Art Cinephiles, SF Hipsters and Fringe Art Eccentrics. Reactions and interactions tend to be "extreme" or "muted dissonance" — you never quite know what to expect. The one thing you can expect if you see a intense, controversial or polarizing work of art at The Roxy you can anticipate debates and even arguments as you make your way back to Mission Street.
As an example, I attended a screening of Christophe Honoré controversial 2004 film, Ma Mere, at The Roxy.
Christophe Honoré, 2005
It was not even a new film. I has seen several years earlier at another old cinema which is now long gone and forgotten. Ma Mere is a challenging and polarizing movie on its own without the added projection of our SF Audience baggage. The theatre was not full. The audience seemed to have an equal number of men to women. All of my Roxy stereotypes were present. Cinephiles, Hipsters and Eccentrics were sharing the space. The entire audience sat in silence as the credits rolled. I was ready to leave, but I didn't want to be lectured. So I sat. No one stood up or shuffled in their seats. It was total silence. And then it happened. A long and exaggerated "hiss" was aimed at the screen. Then two more "hissers" joined in.
This is the dreaded San Francisco Hiss. A prime example of our city's strange sense of entitlement that often "requires" the SF individual to feel the need to hiss at movies, performers or artists if their viewpoints do not align with his/her own. It is as annoying as it is funny. But make no mistake, The San Francisco Hiss is quite serious in intend. It carries more impact here than a "Boo" or a tossed cup. The tricky thing about The San Francisco Hiss is that it tends to set off a chain reaction of one sort or another. I often feel like my fellow citizens feel that his/her own individual opinion is far more important than any other. All one needs to do is ride a MUNI bus from the beach to Union Square to see these clashing "entitlements" go to battle. This often evolves into full-on-rage fueled rants. Inevitably someone is asked to exit the bus. The bus driver must firmly stand his/her ground. The bus stops. It will not move until the one or two individuals who have gone too far step out. Traffic jam ensues. Everyone is late.
Welcome to The New French Extreme
Louis Garrel and Isabell Huppert
As one would expect this "hiss" aimed at Ma Mere created anger toward the hissers. By the time the lights came up a highly encaged debate was in full tilt boogie. The hissers were white male hipsters. Of the five annoyed hiss protestors were two females of the Cinephile type, one male of the Team Eccentric and the other was a woman of the Hipster variety. It was the only screening of the day. I sat and listened in. And I took notes.
"You've no right to ruin the experience for the rest of us!'
"Dude! It was the credits!"
"This is an important film! You are both too ignorant to understand it!"
"Oh I think we know pornography when we see it!"
"Fuck you!"
"No Fuck you!"
At this point it was best to quietly walk past them as the poor Manager (of Team Cinephile) was about to attempt to guide the argument out to The Mission. I'm sure everyone made it out fine. It is just the way it tends to be when you go to The Roxy. Especially if it is the last evening screening.
If Ma Mere is polarizing, I'm not sure where this would leave Felt. Jason Banker's film is beyond "polarizing" — it is an intentional and intense provocation. I decided I would never get to see Felt on a big screen.
I made the right decision. A pal emailed me of his experience at The Roxy after watching Felt. The film profoundly disturbed him. The mixture of hissing and shhh'ing made him leave before the credits were done. As he walked back out to the reality of Mission Street, he noticed three women gathered together discussing the movie. I asked him of which "group" they were members. He was not sure, but he guessed they were fellow Art House Cinephiles. Because of the nature of the film he had just seen he was hesitant to approach these three women who were all hugging themselves. He guessed that all three women were probably somewhere between the ages of 24 and 28. He was most definitely sure that all three of these women were intelligent, cool and "casually" beautiful. My friend put his hands deep into his hoodie's pockets and asked, "So, how do you all feel about 'Felt'?"
Luckily none were offended. He told them about a friend of his having already seen Felt (that would be me) and that I had yet to be able to articulate an opinion. All three women agreed. Felt had left them with a great many mixed emotions. As he prepared to walk away one of the women volunteered, "It's so weird I hardly ever allow myself to think about it. But I'm always so uncomfortable when I'm in a room with more than a few men." The other two women nodded in agreement, but none could articulate why. He agreed and mentioned that he got a sense of that feeling in the movie, but he couldn't find the words. No wanting to seem "lame" he said he thought the movie offered a lot of ideas but didn't clearly answer why women feel so threatened by men. Mistake.
He wished them a good evening and started walking away and the more assertive of the women called out to him, "Actually, it was in that movie." The reason is actually very clear in Jason Banker's movie.
Felt became available for purchase as VOD via iTunes this week. I bought a copy and watched it again.
I hit the Internet and read opinion from Film Critics, fellow bloggers, Letterbox and the fun world of IMDB user postings. Film critics are divided when it comes to Felt. What I find interesting about The Film Critic Response is the information one discovers by reading between their lines. The majority of the reviews seem to be afraid to either fully dismiss or fully praise Felt.
Ben Kenigsberg's New York Times review stuck me as being particularly off-mark. Due to The Times recent policy change related to which films are reviewed, it says a lot that they opted to even review Felt. Their current logic in what films they will review and which films they will not review is more than a little confused, but I am impressed that Felt was considered.
Super Hero?
Kenigsberg summed up Felt, "Reading about the filmmakers' intentions is more rewarding than watching the results." Meaning that The New York Times "felt" that Felt's cinematic intention had to be praised, but this critic seemed to need to find something about Jason Banker's movie that would allow him not to praise the over-all result. I write this because Kenigsberg's deconstruction of Felt feels almost painfully weak. He assigns a generally unfavorable review by taking aim at Banker's "ambiguities." Mr. Kenigsberg even goes so far as to challenge the title of the film. He expressed confusion about whether he should view the title as a noun or a verb. The title is no riddle. There is nothing "ambiguous" about it. A sixth grade child would be able to understand that the title of this movie is intentionally both a noun and a verb. Felt is filled with ambiguities. The title is not one of them. Felt's ambiguities are intentional. Even if an individual dislikes the film, he/she will note the the "ambiguities" are a major reason that the film holds interest. The "unstated" within Banker's Felt is what makes it a true cinematic experience.
As I read Ben Kenigsberg's review two points emerged:
1. It is not the ambiguity that bothers him, his real issue is the uncomfortable cultural statement Felt asserts.
2. He doesn't care for Amy Everson's artwork. He actually seems to hate it. It disturbs him.
Everything about Jason Banker's Felt is intended to unsettle, uncomforted, disturb and it requires both women and men to think about the ways in which we play into a system not of our own design. What the film presents is not a new problem. It is both a cultural and societal issue that has become so deeply entrenched that a jolt is needed to wake people up. I'm not trying to state that a movie is going to change anything, but this film just might be a catalyst for many to reconsider how they interact with the opposite sex.
Please note: I've nothing against Ben Kenigssberg. I think he is a sound, educated and professional Film Critic. His intelligence shines, but if he dislikes Felt he has failed to actually defend his position. I wanted to highlight his review because he is a member of a team of film critics who I admire. Unfortunately, he is one of many who have chosen to take the "safest" route to disregard this film. Most of these "safe-routed" dismissals fail to point out any credible reason to dislike the film. In fact the majority of bad reviews are not hinged on any real merit.
Only a handful of the bad reviews took a firm ground.
A Borrowed Gender
Marjorie Baumgarten of The Austin Chronicle is reasonable in her dismissal of Felt. While she has no problem admitting to the film's intended provocation and import of ideas, she found the movie to be stylized in a manner too obvious for her taste. There were also a couple of Film Critics who saw the potential of a great film, but disliked Jason Banker's choice of improvisational dialogue. I don't agree with either viewpoints, but I can understand these opinions. This is logical film criticism. It is also the sort of criticism that often met John Cassavetes. None of his films were actually "improvised" but they all felt like it. And Cassavetes never "rushed" the pace of a movie. Many critics disliked a great deal of his work. But those who were brave enough to embrace it bear out the winners in Film Theory. You would be hard pressed to find a Film Critic who would trash a Cassavetes film now. Robert Altman also received a number of negative reviews in his day for many of the same reasons.
Film Critic, Jenni Miller of A/V Club gave Felt a positive review. Her summation is that Jason Banker's movie might be a little too close to the bone to enjoy, but this is outweighed by the significance of what is being conveyed. Miller doesn't need to "enjoy" a movie to see its value. When she writes that Felt "sneaks up on you and lingers…"
she is able to state the power of the film. In the end she assigns a "B" rating, but it seems given with a firm warning that this was no fun for her — and it may be equally un-fun for you.
Of the few truly positive reviews Felt received, The Village Voice's Diana Clarke actually formulates her words in the way I so wish I could formulate my own.
Her review can be found here: http://www.villagevoice.com/film/in-daring-indie-felt-a-young-woman-seizes-rich-dudes-masculinity-7290019
Andrew O'Hehir of Salan.com is one of the few critics who liked the film. He clearly put some thought into what he wrote. Of course, this is his job. He also makes a potent reference to recent mainstream movies that almost seem to celebrate Rape Culture. Like Ted 2. I was particularly impressed when I saw that Rotten Tomatoes chose this O'Hehir quote: "Some viewers will no doubt find "Felt" maddening because it never answers seemingly crucial plot questions that a normal movie or TV show would feel compelled to clear up. That ambiguity is precisely the source of its power, and its cinematic quality."
Ben Kenigssberg, can you hear Andrew O'Hehir? This is Film Theory 101. Ouch. Maybe I am picking on Ben. I'm sorry.
If any of the Film Critics I know happen to read this, please start assigning a rating to your reviews. It sucks, but this is now a full world of Film by Consensus. Rotten Tomatoes is assigning their own rating to many of your reviews. And they are not accurate most of the time. Take head of The New York Times and A/V Club. Do not let RT decide the rating of your review.
The most disturbing thing I noticed regarding The Public Reaction was the number of women who were angered by not only Banker's film but by the idea of Feminism itself. There are a lot of women out there who view Amy Everson as the enemy. This caught me off guard. It doesn't surprise me that a number of "dudes" out there hate the movie. It would also not surprise me if a good number of women disliked it. Art is subjective. And Film Art this provocative is not always going to win everyone's heart. But I am shocked at the level of female anger toward Feminism. I don't get it. But then, I am puzzled by hate in general. It is so very extreme. The level of hate "out there" is staggering, but the level of misogyny and self-loathing is even more horrifying.
Jason Banker, the filmmaker who made the most out of a tragic and senseless tragedy into a surrealistic experimental horror film we know to be Toad Road, has now matured into a far more self-assured Film Artist. A potent Cinematographer as well, Banker brings a great deal of talent to the table. Felt came about thanks to accidental meeting between Amy Everson and Banker. During a visit to San Francisco, Everson caught Banker's attention because of her playful yet aggressive demeanor — and the fact that she was running around the city in one of her provocative costumes. As I understand it, Everson showed her artwork to Banker. The work he first saw was all contained in her bedroom. A hybrid of "Sesame Street" kitsch intertwined with sex toys, phallic symbols, dildos, vaginas, assholes and soft doll-like re-enactments of menace. All or much of the work utilizing felt as a key media. Amy Everson is brilliantly talented, fearless and a provocateur. Even the seemingly most innocent creation achieves a vaguely erotic danger.
Art by Amy Everson
Her work is often tinged with a twisted sort of humor and some of it is just deeply disturbing.
Although, I share my life with a San Francisco artist and know a good many, I've only heard/read her name a couple of times. There is a whole other aspect to her work which incorporates Performance Art with her costume creations. Jason Banker was equally impressed as he was disturbed. It was from this jumping point that the two artists began to collaborate toward what would become Felt.
If you are interested in Amy Everson's art, a link to her website is below. She is a completely unique and important voice. Check it out, but please don't "flame" her. It takes a whole lot of guts to lay your soul out for all to see. As I look at her work, it seems to me she is sharing some very intensely intimate glimpses into her being. I'm sure the recent release of Felt has been more than a bit challenging. Though, I hope it has been rewarding.
http://www.amyeverson.com
And now, my opinion/review for Felt:
Jason Banker's film begins with a painfully thin young adult woman who appears to have fallen into a deep depression. We first hear her voice in the form of narration. Her voice sounds a bit like "a little girl" yet what her voice delivers is a firm thud of certainty "My life is a fucking nightmare." BAM! It is this line that propels us forward into not only into the film, but her mind.
Amy Everson is more than the film's lead actor. She also shares "co-writing" credit with Jason Banker. And she is doing more than playing a character, the film's core ideas are based not only on her artwork, but certain aspects of her personality. Amy Everson is playing a "fictionalized" version of herself. While it is sometimes clear she is not a trained actor, she carries a great deal of charisma. You want to watch and understand this character. You want to try and like her.
"My life is a fucking nightmare."
Felt's Amy has survived some form of sexual abuse. The actual abuse is never stated or confirmed, but it seems obvious. Her friends want to help her, but are growing weary of her artistic and creative coping skills. Not only have these coping skills become isolating, they seem to have opened some dark portal into which she falling. These pieces of art and the costumes she creates are disturbing, provocative and somehow menacing and they are fusing into her identity. She has become dazed, lonely and nihilistically numb. Amy's costumes allowed her to access inner-strength. Their designed to not only give her a sense of worth and purpose, it feels as if they were initially conceived to act as healing tools with which she might be able to push away her fears of men.
"Amy" has found a way to funnel her anger and fears through her art. But now, these subversively-twisted anatomically-"correct" costumes offer no comfort. By the time we enter her story what were once empowering tools for healing have turned against her as well as against others. She has taken on an inappropriate role of "protector" for her friends from the men in their lives. Her artistic expression of comfort are turning into a weapon. Her isolation within these "armors" made of felt and other materials is starting to fuel a fantastical idea which is taking over her reality. She has taken to wearing her costumes beneath her street clothing. She wanders off into private corners of nature within the Bay Area and Redwood forests where she can strip down and assert her power with a wooden sword. While on a walk with a girlfriend, the friend tries to encage Amy in a conversation about her friends' concerns.
"You have to be very delicate…"
But Amy has already put on her mask and just as quickly has unzipped her pants to brandish her swollen plastic penis. Her friend tries to reason with Amy to no avail. All her friend can do is force her keep her clothes before she can make a break and run away. Before she rushes off Amy shares an alarmingly sincere desire for the two of them to become "Super Heroes" committed on seeking vengeance against all the predators society calls men.
Jason Banker is very careful to limit the information we receive and how we receive it. At times Felt may not be "linear." Other times it could be argued that what we see may only be within the confines of Amy's damaged psyche. This is not a flaw. This is a smart move on Banker's part. It allows the audience to form individual conclusions and to assess the situations as they unfold. We see Amy in several scenes with single men of her own age. In one scene she is alone with an ill-advised OKCupid Match-Up from Hell. Other scenes she shares these experiences with her girlfriends. These scenes of interaction with 'normal' men feel so real it almost hurts to watch. Each interaction reveals aspects of male behavior about, toward and with women that we might not always pick up were it not for Banker's camera. The truth is these scenes feel "real" and it is alarming to note the way the men attempt to manipulate, control and harass the women. What might feel "normal" is now unsettling. The men Amy meets are dismissive, aggressive, inappropriate and passively menacing. If there is even an initial "friendliness," it quickly feels false.
Is this hope?
Amy Everson / Kentucker Audley
In another scene she meets her best friend's new boyfriend. Amy is nervous and is unable to adequately hid her insecurity. Her friend's boyfriend immediately chooses to make fun of her and insinuates that she is nothing more than a spoiled entitled bitch. A few minutes later the boyfriend is pissed as Amy's girlfriend chides him for being mean to her best friend. His response is in the form of humor. He disagrees. He wants to know why his girlfriend is friends with such a "freak" and he teasingly wraps his hand around her neck warning her to not to hang out crazy "bitches." Amy immediately attempts to attack him for threatening her friend. This new boyfriend chooses to meet her aggression with an even stronger level of anger and threat. To him, Amy is a "crazy bitch" and he informs her that just because she is a "girl" will not prevent him from taking her down.
Later, her girlfriends sit down with her. One attempts to "lay hands" on her with a prayer for healing. Once again they try to reason her to understand that these men are "not all that bad" — they just want sex. But the hope is that they might want more down the road. Their intervention backfires on them as Amy stays calm and points out the obvious. Her girlfriends seem to be "aware" of the cruel, debasing and threatening attitude. It appears it is easier to just "accept" this cultural misogyny. Amy's more well-adjusted and functioning friends have and are assimilating into "Rape Culture."
Kentucker Audley plays "Kenny." Kenny's arrival into Amy's life comes with tenderness, understanding and concern. He comforts her. He cares about her. He is able to show that he is impressed with her art while also expressing sadness for whatever pain life has given her. Kenny never does this in a patronizing way. He truly appreciates her artistry and her. When she speaks to him he actually listens. Eventually, Amy is not threatened by Kenny. She seems to be healing as she discovers that she can be herself with him and he offers no judgement. He offers no threat. Kenny seems to offer only love.
Amy Everson and Kentucker Audley
It is never clear if Amy and Kenny have consummated their relationship. Just as it seems we might be given this information regarding their romance, we discover that Kenny is not what he seems. It is unclear, but he has not been deceptive with Amy. When he attempts to open up and discuss this deception, it is too late. Amy's discovery of Kenny's "deception" alters not only her perception of him. It seems to send her off-the-rails of sanity. And everything Amy shifts. Every little gesture seems to convey something different than before. We see everything about her change.
As she leads the audience into an act of horrific violence, it is not a surprise. Everything seems to be pointing to something horrible, but witnessing it is profoundly unsettling.
Playing 'Dress Up'
Jason Banker's film leaves the audience in a state of shock that is not scary. It is far more serious. We are left adrift in Amy's madness. The "victim" has become an even worse "victimizer." It brings us back to a scene in which she explains to Kenny that most forms of rape "are perpetuated by people you know and trust."
There is no way Kenny would have interpreted Amy's comment as a warning. It might not have even been clear to her. Amy's decision is not rational. It is insane.
Provocative, disturbing, challenging, oddly beautiful and repulsively ugly, Felt is one of the clearest articulations of our culture's continuing escalation of violence against women. "Rape Culture" is not some "hip" catch-phrase. It is a sad reality in which many of us play without even realizing. Jason Banker has crafted a firm depiction of cultural misogyny that never seems to wain. He has done so within the framework of Art Horror. The artistic mastery of this film can't be denied.
The implications of Felt's result leave us with one question:
How does a sexual assault victim heal in a world that almost seems to support the assault?
And for those who thought Jason Banker's feature film directorial debut, Toad Road, was an accident or a "one hit" cinematic wonder, Felt blows any doubt of possessing an important cinematic filmmaker out the window. This Film Artist is not limited in his scope of obtaining understanding from more than one perspective. This is a filmmaker to watch.
A/V Club
Cultural Misogyny
Diana Clarke
Film Critics Must Assign Rating
Hardcore Film Art Cinephiles
Jenni Miller
San Francisco Eccentricity
The French Extreme
Toad Road
July 21st by Matty Stanfield in	Amplify Releasing Amy Everson Anchor Bay Blackout Films Cinematic Debate Cinematic Journey Cinematic Resonates Cinematic Style Cinematic Truth Cinematography Cinephile Civil Rights Controversial Film Creative Arts Cult Film Cultural Commentary Deception Depression Distortion Eccentricity Empowerment Experimental Cinema Experimental Film Fear Felt Feminist Film Film Art Film Criticism Film Editing Film Theory Gore Hardcore Art Cinephile Hate Hipster Human Cruelty Identity IMDB Important Film Independent Film Influential Cinema Injustice Isolation iTunes Jason Banker Kentucker Audley Letterbox Loneliness Love Matty Stanfield Mental Illness Monsters MUNI Bus Ride Parnoia Polarizing Art Post-Feminist Psychological PTSD Rage Rape Realism Reality Rotten Tomatoes San Francisco Culture San Francisco Hipster San Francisco Stereotypes Self Defense Self-Awarenes Self-Deception Self-Entitlement Sexuality Societal Commentary Surrealism The San Francisco Hiss Violence Visual Impact VOD
"Is it live, or is it Memorex?" or Blurring The Line Between Real and Realism
You may not not fully recognize Memorex's slogan or Steve Steigman's iconic photograph unless you were born before 1978. Memorex Tapes were challenging listeners' ability to judge between live performance and recordings of something that was once a live performance.
Memorex sound quality is blowing Peter Murphy away.
Photograph | Steve Steigman, 1979
The ability to distinguish fantasy from reality is gained sometime between the ages of 3 and 5. That doesn't mean that a 7 year old will trust his mother when she tells him there are no such things as monsters. It also doesn't mean that the child's mother might not be able to fight the need to look in her own closet or under her own bed from time to time. The concept of "monster" changes as we grow into adulthood. Mom and Dad know there are no monsters in the house, life's brutal truths leaves us all with a vague uncertainty about what potentially could be hiding under our beds. The mind's perceptions related to "truth" and "false" are constantly shifting. Movies constantly challenge our process of thought.
Have you ever been able to fully enjoy swimming in the ocean without thinking of that girl being attacked by the shark?
Jaws, Steven Spielberg
Cinematography | Bill Butler
Logic tells us that being attacked and consumed by huge shark is not only highly unlikely, but close to impossible. Logic also refuses to let go of the very real horror that Steven Spielberg's Jaws lodged deep within our collective consciousness. We know that Michael Myers is not in our house, but there will always be a vague worry that someone like him might not have followed us and now waits to attack us. Movies play an important role in life beyond entertainment. Film Art projects our hopes, dreams, fears and reality in deeply effective ways. Our ideas and certainties often find themselves being challenged by the Film Artist's motivation. Whether the intent is to manipulate us into fear or to bend it to suspend them to accept fiction as fact or to force our attention on an idea in a whole new perceptive. Defining the art of documentary from the art of fictional film is often more difficult than can be easily articulated.
The Blair Witch Project played with the idea of turning "found footage" intended for a film student's documentary into the horror film genre. In the years since Daniel Myrick & Eduardo Sánchez's 1999 low-budget classic seeped first tripped many film viewer up at the cineplex, this idea is has been explored so much that it is increasingly hard to fool us. The Blair Witch Project has become a symbol of parody and a lingering source of cinematic inspiration. It is interesting how most refuse to admit how this 1999 movie has changed the experience of camping in the woods. Interestingly, the sounds of what could potentially be a very real threat of a bear has morphed into an idea of some paranormal demonic presence. It takes only a few seconds to push the irrational fear away so the we can focus on what could be a "real" concern.
This screenshot of Heather Donahue became iconic within less than a week of the release of The Blair Witch Project, Daniel Myrick & Eduardo Sánchez, 1999.
The power of a talented film director lies in his/her ability to utilize motivational intent to sculpt fiction into reality or reality into fiction to form a bridge toward "the truth" that leads the audience. It is not unusual for an artist to be somewhat fixated or even obsessed with one or maybe two core themes that runs his/her entire collected works. It is also not usual for an artist to approach a wide variety of themes by use of one particular style. What is rare is to discover an artist as self-aware of not only his work but what truly motivates him to pursue it. Werner Herzog never uses vague or opaque terminology when he discusses film. He is blunt in addressing questions related to his work and his opinion of the type of film art that appeals most to him.
"You should bear in mind that almost all my documentaries are feature films in disguise." – Werner Herzog
His interests revolve in the way humanity attempts to interact with nature which inevitably lead his audience to an idea that seems to bother many. The core idea is that nature's beauty is deceptive. Herzog sees nature as a place of cruelty, chaos and danger. Despite this bleak view, he is a major advocate of saving it. But the most interesting aspect of Herzog's work is that he loves exploring the perplexing ambition of humanity to bend nature to his needs and dreams. Werner Herzog loves dreamers and the pursuit of their dreams. These dreamer might take the form of a sociopathic warrior, an obsessive music fan, a drug addled cop, a brave soldier, a naive amateur environmentalist, or a vampire — These dreamers eventually must wake and face their irrelevance to "The Beast" of the earth's natural power. Aside from the fact that Herzog has always expressed his logical views and awareness of the chaotic world of nature, he still fully relates to his flawed cinematic dreamers.
While Fitzcarraldo is a narrative feature film, the feat of pulling of undertaking the task of pulling a boat that size up a mountain was brutally real. Klaus Kinski as Fitzcarraldo, Werner Herzog, 1982.
Cinematography | Thomas Mauch
Herzog seldom applies any trace of what I would call "style" — even his surrealist work is grounded in a very simple application of camera. Both Aguirre Wrath of God and Fitzcarraldo are both amazingly beautiful and take full advantage of the surroundings in which his dreamers find themselves. But the camera work is economical and usually static. They both have the look of a documentary. Regarding the making of both these movies, Herzog and his team encountered more than a few major challenges. These challenges were often as dangerous and unbelievable as the stories themselves. Defining documentary as "truth" and narrative film as "fiction" restricts artist, subject and audience from understanding how to engage.
Herzog's brilliant film is not a fictional film. It is based on the Carlos Fermín Fitzcarrald, a 19th Century Peruvian rubber barron who managed to fight all odds and transport a 30 ton steamship across a treacherous isthmus (or strait of land) and then onwards from one challenging river to another. He and his team did this by dismantling the ship into pieces and reassembling it once destination was reached. This feat obviously caught Herzog's imagination, but he had no problem in mixing fiction with truth. As Fitzcarraldo, Klaus Kinski conveys a passion that quickly turns into almost insane obsession. So strong is his love of opera that is determination knows no bounds in bringing that music to the culture in which he lives. The core of Fitzcarraldo is one man fighting any and all odds in pulling a 300 ton steamboat over an isthmus between the Urubamba and the Camisea rivers. Herzog not only increased the boat by ten times the truth, but he had his protagonist achieve it without any dismantling.
The movie that almost defeated Werner Herzog who nicknamed himself "Conquistador of the Useless"
The Infamous Steamship in Fitzcarralod, Werner Herzog, 1982.
Not only did Herzog, his dedicated crew, and the tribal Aguaruna people of the region have to join forces to make this happen they also had to deal with the insanity of Klaus Kinski while doing it. Herzog uses no special effects. He and his crew really pulled that huge boat up and over the mountain. Misunderstandings between cultures resulted in tribal members destroying camp sites. Frustrations and exhaustion created intense fits of rage. Friendships and cultural relations were pushed beyond well past acceptable boundaries. Mount all of this with the perspective that the tribal Aguaruna men so detested Klaus Kinski they wanted to kill him.
Klaus Kinski winning friends and influencing people.
Werner Herzog, 1982
Tragically, three of the six film artists on the boat as it crashed against the rapids were seriously injured. To be clear, Herzog was one of the six on the boat. Consistently honest and open to discussion, Herzog has stated that he used all tensions to the benefit of the energy we see in the film. All challenges were faced and ultimately met head-on. The result is one of the most interesting films of not only its era, but of all time. Even with 34+ years of time since, Herzog is still often in the position of defending his choices during the staggering production of the iconic movie.
The sheer beauty and idea of a man and his pursuit of a dream against all obstacles may not be new in "concept" but never has it been portrayed in such a painfully realistic way. How does one actually define "truth" and "fiction" when it comes to Fitzcarraldo?
The level of will, risks of danger and dedication required by the production is the stuff of legend. But this is legendary truth. Les Blank's documentary, Burden of Dreams, is focused on Herzog making Fitzcarraldo is almost as interesting as the film itself. Les Blank captures The Artist grappling with not only incredible odds of completing production — it also captures Werner Herzog worn down past the point of exhaustion, but on the brink of re-thinknig his own personal identity to filmmaking, to nature and to life itself. It serves as a historic document of filmmaking. The distinction between "truth" and "fiction" are more clear in Blank's Burden of Dreams. Or are they?
Werner Herzog discusses his worries and concerns as the boat sits stuck at the bottom of the mountain. Burden of Dreams, Les Blank, 1982.
As Les Blank films the ever-mounting challenges, failures, tensions, fatigue and dangers involved in bringing Fitzcarroldo to the screen — we are able to actually see how Herzog and all involved managed to do what we see in the film. However, there are moments in Blank's documentary that make it all too clear that everyone knows they are being filmed. There is no escaping that in any documentary, but when you are filming artists at work some of what is said or how things are done take on a greater significance. This is especially true early on before everything begins to unravel beyond control. It is obvious that Klaus Kinski's personal vision of reality has long been loosely defined.
Klaus Kinski in one of many rage filled rants at poor Walter Saxer, Production Manager.
Most interesting is the way we first see Herzog discussing his views of nature vs. Kinski's attitude. Herzog loves to discuss ideas. So the content of what he tells Les Blank is all familiar. But to hear these ideas within the context of "where" he is both geographically and psychologically does not seem to fit. There is a most definite air of performance. It is only as Herzog's determination, patience and passion began to collapse from tensions and exhaustion that Blank actually captures Herzog at his most self-aware and most distanced from the concept of Blank's camera. "If I abandon this project, I would be a man without dreams and I don't want to live like that," he tells Blank. As the production gets closer to completion, Blank asks what he plans to do next. A surprising defeatist attitude comes forward: "I shouldn't make movies anymore."
Lucky for us that was exhaustion speaking. Herzog would go on. As he moves further into documentary filmmaking his artistic motivation remains consistent. Contrary to what many would like the audience to think, Herzog is not a cruel man. "Exploitation" is a problematic word when it comes to The Creative Arts. I do not feel Herzog "exploits" his subjects more than any other filmmaker. He does sometimes manipulate and approaches all subjects/topics in a distinct pursuit from the moment productions star though to the post-production editing and narration. Herzog bend and adjust the focus of the camera's lens on reality so that it captures his motivational intent of showing us his personal "truth" — and that is not far from how fictional narratives are made.
I did entertain the idea of writing about these films in a chronological order, but when discussing the art of documentary vs. the art of Narrative Film — it just seems most natural to start with Herzog and then immediately turn to Errol Morris. While the motivational goals of both filmmakers are different, there is a very strong connection in the way both artists capture humanity and the many ways we either adapt or refuse to adapt to our environment and the others with whom we share it. It is also no secret that Werner Herzog played a key role in helping Errol Morris to stick with his vision and get his film completed. Herzog even stated that he would eat his own shoe if Morris would finish his movie. Ever true, Herzog ate his shoe in front of a full house at UC Berkeley forever captured in Les Blank's Herzog Eats His Shoe.
In support of Errol Morris' Gates of Heaven.
Herzog Eats His Shoe
Les Blank, 1980
It is challenging to think of an art form that is more collaboratively dependent than filmmaking. Every member of a film crew and crew is crucial to the outcome of each scene. And when the crew is minimal it often only enhances the need for collaborative unity in bringing all skills and talent together to meet the director's vision. I've always thought of the director as an intensely driven orchestra conductor. The director must find ways to guide, motivate and gain the trust of everyone behind and in front of the camera(s). Some are better at this than others. I've noticed that the directors who most interest me tend to have the reputation of being more open to new ideas and feedback from his/her crew/cast but never never to the point of breaking away from her/his artistic intent. I suspect it is a very fine art of balancing perspective to be open enough, but finding a way to close it without turning the other artists against him/her.
Over the years since Gates of Heaven and Vernon, Florida, Errol Morris has evolved a system of documentary filmmaking that is efficient and effective. But no matter how his approach has changed, Morris cares about his subjects. They trust him as much as his crew. He consistently produces powerful and polished documentaries. As good as his current work is, he has never found a way back to the casual approach applied that created as magic or human as Gates of Heaven.
Transcending The Art of Documentary Film.
Errol Morris, 1978
Cinematography | Ned Burgess
No matter how many times I watch Gates of Heaven — and I have watched it over and over ever since it came out on VHS — I always notice something new or I discover something deeper of myself hiding within it. As one of the pet owners attempts to needlessly defend grief, he says "There's your dog; your dog's dead. But where's the thing that made it move? It had to be something. Didn't it?" Over time, these people and their respective observations Errol Morris captured have consistently taken a deeper meaning for me. I'm not alone in that feeling.
Errol Morris had not yet fully grasped what would serve as his artistic motivation. In the mid-1970's he only knew what he found interesting. The starting point seems to have been an article he read in the newspaper. Some sort of falling out between the owners of a small pet cemetery had led to the decision to sell the cemetery's land to a corporate developer. While the soon-to-be former owners of the cemetery have found a way to remove the deceased animals and transfer them to another pet cemetery, the former pet owners were upset. This was the starting point of Errol Morris unforgettable feature debut. His starting point would lead him to unexpected discoveries that pulled him in a number of directions. It wasn't until he sat down to edit the footage that he found his motivation: humanity.
Gates of Heaven was a true game-changer in the world of documentary filmmaking as well as to the general Art of Film. We now know that much of what Morris achieved was due to some lucky circumstances that seem to have not only inspired him but required him to come up with a way to get these people to actually talk with him. Gates of Heaven transcends beyond the typical ideology of "The Documentary Film" — the focus and tone are always changing as we watch. What appears to be a documentary about the reasons for the creation and demolition of one pet cemetery gradually appears to be leading us to the story of a new pet cemetery. As the "stories" develop his camera continually readjust "focus" to a wide variety of people who have some vested link. Morris' initial interviews with the first round of owners feels familiar but somehow "off" — These people open up to Morris, but it seems as if he is attempting to stage them. There is a long shot of his first subject sitting uncomfortably under a tree. The camera's perspective is distant. But soon we notice a distinct change in the manner Morris approaches his subjects. With the gift of hindsight information we know that Errol Morris discovered that people are more open when you allow them to decide where they will be filmed. He also discovered that the best thing he could do was simply ask one question and just keep the camera rolling. As these people begin to try and form an answer to his question(s) they began to forget the presence of the camera. They are actually speaking to Errol Morris as a person. He loses the identity of a filmmaker. They trust him.
Phillip Harberts reveals far more than motivational techniques or his new role working with his family in Gates of Heaven, Errol Morris, 1978. Cinematography | Ned Burgess
If you're taking the time and attempting to read my ramblings — I'm confident that you've already seen Gates of Heaven at least once if not multiple times. The above screenshot is a classic example of Errol Morris' technique. Sitting in his office surrounded by the objects that he most prizes, Phillip Halberts begins his infamous system for being an effective salesman. It is a truly funny scene of the movie. The key hers is that the viewer never loses sight of the fact that this guy is grappling with emotional and professional challenges that are all too familiar to any adult. We can't help but giggle as he lists out his theory for success. But we can't help but like him. Like nearly everyone featured in the movie, you find yourself wishing you could reach through the screen and offer some support.
"Oh! Wha- what was that? Was that a car? My goodness!"
Gates of Heaven,
Cinematographer |
The main point here is that Gates of Heaven is important, valid and ageless documentary. Gates of Heaven offers nothing in the areas of the political, environmental, social or ethical issue. Errol Morris found an entry point into the deepest concerns of humanity. The only artistic motivation is focused down to exploring the deep need for connection, love and understanding. In the end, it has very little to do with the pets. It is about the humans who love them.
Albert and David Maysles began their careers firmly rooted in the idea that they were not really "Documentarians" — Both brothers were devoted to the idea of cinéma vérité or, more accurately, The Maysles Brothers viewed their films as "Direct Cinema." In other words, their artistic motivation was to capture reality as it happened and then to turn it all around to question the validity of the "reality" captured. Direct Cinema doesn't clearly define a boundary between the filmmaker and the situation/subject that is being filmed. Albert and David Maysles and their fellow collaborators had no problem if they became a part of the situation or developed a friendship or disdain with their subjects. The idea of "reality" is always in question when Direct Cinema technique is applied. Direct Cinema film artists welcome confusing concepts of reality. But it is fairly well documented that neither of The Maysles had any idea that their interest in Big Edie and her daughter, Little Edie would become a cinematic and cultural milestone.
Little Edie asserts herself despite the signs of decay that surround both she and her mother, "…you see in dealing with me, the relatives didn't know that they were dealing with a staunch character and I tell you if there's anything worse than dealing with a staunch woman… S-T-A-U-N-C-H. There's nothing worse, I'm telling you. They don't weaken, no matter what."
Grey Gardens, Albert Maysles & David Maysles, 1975.
Perhaps even more importantly, the fact that they both found themselves caring about these two women. It would be challenging to touch on all of the aspects of culture and film that Grey Gardens influenced. Too strange and intense to match the easy-access of Errol Morris' Gates of Heaven that would follow over three years later. Grey Gardens became a cult hit that slow-burned itself into the cultural thumbprint of America.
Edith Ewing Bouvier Beale / "Big Edie" and Edith Bouvier Beale / "Little Edie were the aunt and cousin of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. At one time these two women were major players in the world of wealth and influence.
We will never really know what happened to this beautiful and vital young woman to make her retreat into seclusion. But we can't forget Little Edie.
Albert & David Maysles, 1975
But by the mid-1960's they had officially slipped into an isolated world. They had already been living in the grand home for decades and labeled as "Crazy Recluses" for quite a while. Despite being supposedly well-monied, Big & Little Edie lived on limited funds for decades. The once stunning home officially named Grey Gardens in the 1920's began to fall into decay. By 1971 the wealthy residents who lived near the estate began to file official complaints. They were living without running water, tons of garbage, a slew of cats as well as wild feral animals. Grey Gardens had become more than a somewhat hidden eye sore, it was officially a health hazard. They attracted unwanted attention from the media due to their connection to The Kennedy Family just before their County Health Department was about to condemn the property and evict both women. The media speculation was so intense that both Jackie Kennedy and her sister paid for the entire clean-up and repair of the house. Neither ever seemed to ever get over what they considered an attack by the media, but it Little Edie who seemed to be the most plagued with fear and paranoia.
Little Edie wearing 'the best costume for the day' and Big Edie frustrating over where in the hell she thinks she is!
It has never been clear to me how The Maysles Brothers secured Big and Little Edies' permission to film them, but they did. And the method of Direct Cinema for documentary gave these two amazing but deeply eccentric women the opportunity to freely share their history and opinions to the camera. Grey Gardens is profound in the way it captures the on-going love/hate shared between mother and daughter.
"You can't have your cake and eat it, too in life." Little Edie casually points out.
"Oh, yes, I did. I did, I had my cake, loved it, masticated it, chewed it and had everything I wanted." Big Edie responds with pointed glee.
At turns hilarious, disturbing, haunting, sad, grotesque — it is impossible to not love these two women. And while both take deep joy in "hamming" it up for the Maysles cameras — the film captures devastating moments of self-awareness, regret and longing that grip the audience so tight it can never let go or forget the movie. While the film is certainly a documentary, it is also just as certainly confused about what is "true" and what is "fiction" — Grey Gardens is a mysterious film that is unrelenting in confusing "reality" with "distorted truth" and often the deception of "memory" tinged with the need to "alter" truths — not for the audience but for these two women. It is a complex, fragile and beautiful film that refuses to tell us the truth.
European and Asian countries have specific eras of like-minded film artist who have created films at the same time that have resulted in what are easily identified as cinematic waves.
Welcome to the beginning of La Nouvelle Vague. The 400 Blows,
François Truffaut, 1959.
Cinematography | Henri Decaë
I'm unaware of any such occurrence in American Cinema. Aside from the Golden Era of Hollywood, I'm hard pressed to think of any American "waves" — our culture is too young and diverse. Once the old-school Hollywood studio system fell away there was a whole new generation of almost maverick-like filmmakers. But it seems that there was no singular shared voice at the same time. There was certainly a revolutionary shift in cinematic art starting in the mid 1960's, but typically the American Film Artist tends to be somewhat of a loner. There are two American filmmakers and one American film that I want to highlight briefly because all three touch directly on depicting fictionalized reality or fictional narrative within an almost documentary-like approach. These two American Film Artists created two unique styles with two very different artistic motivations. And, then there is one film that really stands out and remains entrenched in my brain.
I don't think anyone filmmaker can be named as "the best" or "the most influential" — art is far too subjective for that level of claim. That being said, the work left by Robert Altman is as relevant, interesting, provocative, experimental, unique and experimental today as it must have been when it was released. Some of his films fail. A few seem to get anchored in a sort of drug'd haze that alienates the viewer. But he made more than a couple of films which are true cinematic masterpieces. And when it comes to mixing ideas around reality with fiction, he was undisputedly a genius.
Largely credited with reinvented the language of cinema, Robert Altman working with Julie Christie on the set of McCabe & Mrs. Miller in 1970. Photographer unknown to me.
In this sense the key work is 1975's Nashville. It is essentially an epic study of American culture just before it hit it's 200th birthday. While it might seem odd that he chose to capture a snapshot of America via The Nashville Music Industry, it was incredibly clever. Like most of Altman's 1970's work, all the actors are mic'd. Unlike Altman's prior work the actors are usually in filled spaces with non-actors. Only a very select few of the actors actually knew when one of Paul Lohmann's cameras are focused on them. They had lines, but were free to "riff" or alter lines if it felt more believable to do so. Those actors who were playing musicians or actual County & Western Stars were required to write or co-write their songs as wall as to play/sing them. And, as Altman was constantly changing ideas or re-writing scenes, it is my understanding that no one had a full screenplay of the film while it was being shot.
Long before we had access to cyber "search engines" like IMDB, viewers could easily mistake actor, Bill Jenkins, as a "real" Nashville TV reporter.
Robert Altman, 1975
Cinematography | Paul Lohmann
When combined with Altman's grim view of the state of American culture and it's ever-growing obsession with fame — Altman was taking a big risk. Nashville could have easily been a meandering mess. Instead it is a darkly funny, insightful and disturbing film. Nashville does meander, but all of the subplots and characters are slowly working their way to a conclusion which remains a topic of controversy within the world of celebrity. Not that entities such as The Academy Awards should ever be given the level of ultimate cinematic valuation that it is often allowed, but it is likely the disquieting view of both "celebrity" and American culture which prevented Nashville from being honored as 1975's best film.
As Altman's cast intermingles with valid country musicians, non-actors and actors playing versions of themselves — this fictional film takes on a vibe that feels real. Nashville is filled with awkward, comic and disturbing moments inter-laced to create an uneasy tension. We forget that it is Laugh-In's Lily Tomlin struggling with her duties as a wife, mother, desires and self-identity within cultural and societal pressures. When she allows herself to be seduced we are surprised in the discovery that she not only fully understands the Keith Carradine's hollow vacancy, she is not bothered by it. The womanizing soon-to-be major recording artist seems as shocked as we are when this "truth" is passively revealed. "Tom" croons that he is "easy" but he is actually very difficult. It is here that Robert Altman and three actors push fictional moments into the realm of painful reality. This points to one of the many key reasons Nashville is so powerful. Altman films his epic like a documentary. It is an essential film and a classic example fiction merging into deeper truth than the viewer anticipates. The suspension of disbelief is not really so much as an audience choice but a clever manipulation to force it. From the most superficial to the deepest core, Nashville is disconcertingly real.
Lily Tomlin's comic persona disappears as a conflicted wife becomes the focus of a musical lothario. She is not 'easy' in Nashville, Robert Altman.
No one filmmaker has ever been better at blurring the lines of reality and fiction than John Cassavetes. It is my opinion that all true lovers of cinematic art holds at least one Cassavetes movie close to the heart. A Woman Under The Influence is the best example of a filmmaker's motivation applied in what appears to be either a very loose improvisation of reality or an obscure documentary of a family in crisis. With hindsight we know that nothing about this film was improvised or real, but a viewer would have to be truly emotionally stunted not to find her/himself challenging those facts as this movie unspools. Gena Rowlands has earned a unique place within the world of cinematic acting — and, when carefully studied, it is impossible to name any actor or actress who displays such effective naturalized performance. I view that statement as fact. Rowlands has charisma, presence, natural grace, impossible beauty and an ability to merge identities into characters like no other. For 135 minutes, Gina Rowlands is Mabel and Mabel is Gina Rowlands.
"All of a sudden, I miss everyone…"
John Cassavetes, 1974.
In A Woman Under The Influence Cassavetes artistically approaches everything as simply and as minimally as possible. Rowland's Mabel is car wreck waiting to happen. The late and criminally underrated, Peter Falk, is equally realistic Mabel's confused and helpless husband. As Mabel's emotional grounding becomes shakier with each passing moment, Peter Falk tackles the issue from every perspective he can find. When he turns to the equivalent of domestic abuse we are so unsettled that we barely have time to recover before their children jump in to protect their mom. When Mabel finally breaks, it is disorienting to determine if it Mabel or Rowlands having a nervous breakdown. The complexity and fragility of mental illness is almost too realistically articulated. It is terrifying to watch. Without any frame of context, Cassavetes' cinéma vérité style could easily mistaken for a 1970's documentary of a family coping and functioning through crisis. John Cassavetes was always very clear regarding his artistic motivation. His goal was to capture real love in film. It is at the heart of every film he ever made. He had no interest in vasolined-screened mush. He sought out the realities of love. His muse was his wife. Together, he almost always hit his mark. As dark and disturbing as A Woman gets, there are two things we know about Mabel and her husband: they are in love and they have each other's backs no matter what challenges come their way.
Is it Mabel who is slipping into an emotional breaking point or is Gena Rowlands slipping with her?
A Woman Under the Influence, John Cassavetes, 1974.
Cinematography | Al Ruban
Many cinephiles of my generation or older feel that the levels of Film Art which which these artists' reached is no longer possible. This opinion is not true. A number of current film artists are even more strident in applying individual motivations which artistically merge truth with fiction than ever before. Independent Filmmaking has never been easy. Technology has provided tools and platforms that potentially allow anyone to make a movie. Too many movies are being made for film festivals to fairly evaluate what films get on their screens. And Film Critics are finding it impossible to actually review the number of films that manage to get distributed. he challenges of getting worthy art shown and distributed has never been harder. There are too many movies being made. And because anyone can make them it is a challenge to determine which independently funded films are worth the time to watch. Esteemed New York Times Film Critic, A.O. Scott sendt an email to Variety this year stating, "Because of the increasing volume of new films released each year, the Times is no longer able to guarantee reviews of all New York theatrical releases." It is not hard to understand why The Times had to make this decision, but it doesn't minimize the impact. A review from The New York Times can "make" or "break" a film artist's career.
Looking at the challenge from another perspective, I've never seen film artists approach a challenge with this creativity, tenacity, energy and devotion. Unlike the late '80's/'90's, the artist's who seem to really succeed are the most devoted to their art. I find the drive and work of these new filmmakers incredibly powerful. I'm not a film critic. I just love cinema. But like many of my friends I had started to feel sad about the state of American Film in the year that actually gave us some amazing film. Pulp Fiction, Clerks, Ed Wood, Red, Muriel's Wedding, Chungking Express and even Oliver Stone's admittedly questionable but highly experimental Natural Born Killers — all came out in 1994. But in 1994 I started to note a shift in many of my peers perspective regarding films. This next remark is likely to earn me a number of angry emails, but I loathed Forrest Gump, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Interview with a Vampire and The Lion King. It was around this time that my closest friends begin to tell me I was a "movie snob"
"Epic in scope and triumphant in spirit!" or passively unconcerned solutions for PTSD riddled war veterans, marginalized people and protestors of War? Forrest Gump
Robert Zemeckis, 1994
Skip forward a decade and I actually was afraid to tell people that I detested Paul Haggis' Crash. I can remember a friend not speaking to me for over a year because of my opinion. This is particularly interesting because I'm not an aggressive person when it comes to my opinions. I have them, but I don't expect everyone to agree with me. Sometimes I'm surprised when even one person agrees with me. So, I knew this movie was really a "hot" topic for white people. When I said that Haggis might be well-intentioned but the whole movie was so ham-fisted and too simplistic in resolutions that I felt insulted. I had a similar reaction when Jonathan Demme made Philadelphia over eleven years earlier. But in 1993 my "crowd" more or less agreed with me — or were at least willing to admit to the painfully "black and white" approach to only partially-formed characters. By the time every major film critic and the Academy Awards chose Thomas Langmann's The Artist, which I hated, 2011's best film, I seldom ventured to the cinema. The movies that were interesting me were harder to see on the screen. My two personal favorite films of 2011 were Steve McQueen's Shame, Evan Glodell's Bellflower and Lynne Ramsay's We Need To Talk About Kevin. I was able to see two of these films on the big screen.
Living in San Francisco I was surprised when I was unaware of it having played here. I had to wait for it on blu-ray. When I suggested each of these movies to friends in West Virginia and Ohio, neither were able to find them screening in their areas. Interestingly, Terrence Malick's Tree of Life screened in their areas. Maybe I was hoping for too much as I entered The Sundance Kabuki Cinema to watch Malick's film. I'm not sure. I was entranced by Emmanuel Lubezki's cinematography, but I was never actually engaged by the film itself. Both of these friends contacted me after they had seen it. They were excited and loved Tree of Life, but as I discussed it with each of them — I discovered that neither understood what they had seen. The fact that I found myself explaining it twice to two very intelligent people confirmed my assessment of the movie. My two pals were claiming to like the movie because so many of the critics liked it.
This can't be Clint Jordan, right? No, this has to be
Virgil Bliss, Joe Maggio, 2001.
Cinematography | Harlan Bosmajian
In my spare time, I've worked for film festivals. I've even served on the board of one that has become fairly influential. It was involvement with a Film Festival that offered me the opportunity to see two films before they had secured distribution and were released. The first was Joe Maggio's Virgil Bliss starring Clint Jordan as the title character. I was hooked from the beginning to the end. Maggio's film was a lo-fi character study of a recently paroled criminal who desperately wants to secure a stable life. I had never seen Clint Jordan play a character this complex. It didn't even feel like I was watching a movie so much as some profane transmission from reality's grimmest corner. A couple of years later I would see Debra Granik's Down to the Bone, a brutally realistic story of parenting and addiction which featured an unforgettable Vera Farmiga. Granik and Farmiga pulled me into this horrifying world. Both of these films were intensely intimate and painfully "real" — I will never forget them. They did secure distribution but largely thanks to the DVD and streaming markets.
Vera Farmiga's performance as Irene takes on bleary and almost horrifying level of reality in Down to the Bone, Debra Granik, 2004.
Cinematography | Michael McDonough
And, then I started hearing about Mumblecore. A term I still dislike as it seems more than a little pejorative. Joe Swanberg and Greta Gerwig were the first of the "Mumblecore Movement" I saw. Both of these artist are naturalistic actors, but most importantly they are filmmakers who have disarming ways of presenting intimate and relatable characters that often feel so real that you find yourself squirming in your seat. Early on the co-wrote and co-directed Night and Weekends. With no budget and a non-apologetic manner of presenting themselves as actors, their movie challenges the audience in determining which of the two characters are more vested in this relationship. When the two lovers eagerly disrobe and have sex, the absence of any pretense of eroticism and the immediacy of the two characters' mutual desire makes the audience feel like ashamed. It is as if we are voyeuristically looking at something private. At some point, it is impossible to discern these two filmmakers from the characters that they are playing. Insightful, sad and real — The movie refuses to be dismissed. The same goes with Joe Swanberg's previous film staring Gerwig, Hannah Takes The Stairs.
A young couple struggle with the challenges of a long distance relationship in Nights and Weekends,
Greta Gerwig & Joe Swanberg, 2008.
Cinematography | Matthias Grunsky & Benjamin Kasulke
Both Greta Gerwig and Joe Swanberg have pursued their artistic goals with a vengeance. Not to be conceived as a criticism, but Gerwig seems more comfortable in moving in the higher powered/monied productions of Whit Stillman, Noah Baumbach and Woody Allen. Whether that is luck or successful networking, Greta Gerwig has firmly established herself as a unique actor and filmmaker. It would be impossible not to mention the work of Mark and Jay Duplass who have both managed to move comfortably into mainstream without selling out. The same is true for Lynn Shelton who has achieved a great deal of success. Ti West has also found a great deal of success in the horror genre. Michael Tully is another to emerge as a truly riveting filmmaker. Also of note are the works of Lawrence Michael Levine, Sophia Takal and Onur Tukel within the realms of comedy. Amy Seimetz is another incredibly amazing actor who has thus far made one film, Sun Don't Shine, which was one of the best films of 2013. Aside from Seimetz's skill as an actor, Kate Lyn Sheil is probably the second most valuable player as an actress.
Joe Swanberg's interests in film seem to be more committed to remaining the chief architect of his work. His talent and skill are unquestionable, but it wasn't until he was able to collaborate with Kent Osborne and make Uncle Kent that his strength was crystal clear. Osborne is well established in the world of animated film art. In Swanberg's Uncle Kent, Kent Osborne is playing a version of himself which leaves a great deal of mystery for the audience. We have no way of knowing when we are seeing "truth" in fuzzy sort of staged way or in a sort of re-enactment. Osborne is so believable in this film that it is more than a little difficult to know if this is made up or a very slanted manipulation of reality. Either way, the film works incredibly well. Swanberg does not deviate from his deceptively loose and slow pacing. In Uncle Kent we see a successful LA Film Artist who, through a series of increasingly uncomfortable moments of self-awareness, must come to grips with the fact that not only is he getting older — he is now finding it difficult to fit in and relate to the friends who populate his world. And his world appears to be made up of working on adult-oriented but infantile comedic cartoons, doodling, surfing the Internet, participating in Online Roulette, getting stoned, petting his cat and hanging out with friends ten years his junior.
Kent Osborne, Jennifer Prediger explore sexuality with Josephine Decker in Uncle Kent, Joe Swanberg, 2011.
It is an entertaining but precisely executed examination of the formation of what will likely be a tough mid-life crisis. Another aspect of Uncle Kent that adds a great deal is the contributions of both fellow filmmakers and actors, Jennifer Prediger and Josephine Decker. Prediger plays Kate with a mix of humor and sadness. It is a surprisingly complex performance that catches the audience off-guard. She must be acting, but it never feels like acting. When Josephine Decker enters the film she brings a level of energy that Swanberg is able to use as a major catalyst for Kent. As most of us know, the erotic idea of a three-way usually quickly dissolves into awkwardness in which usually only two of three finds any real erotic pleasure. A three way is exciting in concept, but when placed into theory it is most often an unenjoyable realization of interpersonal dynamics that are better off unexplored. This is certainly the case in Swanberg's three-way scene. It is a powerful moment in a surprisingly potent movie.
It is important to note that Jennifer Prediger has gone to make her own mark as a filmmaker collaborating with Jess Weixler to create the quirky, funny and unique look at friendship, Apartment Problems (or known to some as Trouble Dolls) Actually, The Duplass Brothers, Lena Dunham and Alex Karpovsky are not the only artists to find success. Meanwhile Josephine Decker continues to act, perform and create in various challenging and interesting projects. But most importantly Decker has recently made two vitally important films as both director and writer. Both of her directorial feature length films, Butter on the Latch and Thou Wast Mild and Lovely are truly essential films Decker's path as Film Artist seems to be headed toward a more experimental direction. Josephine Decker is an important Film Artist that I suspect will be leading us in some very interesting directions. With her second film, she actually surpassed Shane Carruth's Upstream Color, which was my favorite film of 2013. Another independent filmmaker to note is Patrick Brice whose recent collaboration with Mark Duplass, Creep, re-examines the ideas of "found footage" and "documentary" to amazing effect.
It's creepier than you expect. Mark Duplass in Creep, Patrick Brice, 2015
In 80 minutes Brice/Duplass manage to deliver a movie that elevates the horror genre both intellectually and emotionally. On the surface, Creep is fun adult horror movie. It is long after the credits roll that the underlying power really "creeps" up. Sure, it's only a horror movie. Now, keep telling yourself that as you realize that what you've just seen could not only happen — it most likely does.
I was a little late in learning about Kentucker Audley. A friend in NYC sent me a DVD of his first feature length film, Team Picture. Perhaps more than any of the other filmmakers to emerge under the term "Mumblecore", Audley shines out as the boldest Film Artist. Much like Herzog, Audley is very open about his motivation regarding filmmaking. He has described his approach as being almost autobiographical documentary. It is and it most likely isn't. The vital importance of Team Picture is the almost lazy feeling Audley applies as the minimal story unfolds. After only about five minutes into this movie, you can sense that Audley is far more schooled in the art of film than his film wants to show. A quiet film, Kentucker Audley plays David. David should be in college or seriously pursuing a career. Instead he is happy just to hang out with friends, strum his guitar and sit outside be the kiddie pool he uses to cool off in the summer sun. Despite the slow pace and drifting conversations, there is an odd pulse at play with Team Picture.
"I guess you don't need any help with anything. That's cool." The line between reality and fiction feels partially erased in the passively crucial art of Team Picture,
Kentucker Audley, 2007
Cinematography | Timothy Morton
When Audley's David decides to move on to another town it seems without any clear direction or purpose. However, we gain a gradual perspective into David's life that reveals a childhood that offered him no clear paths to bonding with a male figure as well as a distinct level of confusion regarding his identity. A creeping sense that David's environment and childhood have almost set him up. His expectations in life are muted. He is not a team player, but he has a confused need to somehow fit into the team if only for the purpose of momentary capture of belonging to something. Of the recent films to achieve a realism that feels more "true" than "fiction" — this might be the most powerful film.
In addition to being an important voice in modern film, Audley is an exceptional effective actor. I suspect his acting roles are how he funds his filmmaking work. But he will soon be seen in two important independent films: Jason Banker's Felt and Alison Bagnall's Funny Bunny. Audley has also positioned himself as vital member of the American Independent Film Artist World with his passionate approach to protecting the rights of individuality in Film Art with the creation of the user-friendly web site, NoBudge. He accepts submissions from indie-filmmakers and curates them on the site for free viewing and feedback. These are both feature-length and short films that might not hold the "commercial" accessibility required for film festivals and the increasingly powerful role of Aggregators to negotiate for independent films to be available for purchase/rental on digital media sites such as iTunes or AmazonPrime. But that certainly does not mean that they have a great deal to offer.
Check out NoBudge: http://nobudge.com
It was on Audley's NoBudge site that I "discovered" Brandon Colvin. Colvin's Sabbatical is a beautifully-rendered exploration of a man in crisis that adheres rigidly to Formalist Style. Colvin not only succeeds, he exceeds what one expects to find in a low budget film. Nothing about Sabbatical looks low budget. Sadly, Brandon Colvin's masterful film is failing to secure distribution and an aggregator because Sabbatical does not "fit" or "conform" to the current ideas around what is commercial and what isn't.
You can find out more about Sabbatical which also stars Robert Longstreet. An actor who so many of us admire. People are missing an amazing experience.
sabbatical-mossgarden.com
Eleonore Hendricks and Kentucker Audley try to fit into some part their culture's frame in
Bad Fever, Dustin Guy Defa, 2012.
Cinematography | Mike Gioulakis
Dustin Guy Defa's Bad Fever is another crucial film within the context of modern American Film Art. Kentucker Audley's turn as a misfit and wanna-be comedian is more than just awkward and anxiety-inducing — it is tragic. Eleonore Hendricks plays Irene who quickly becomes Edie's obsession. His desperation for her love is not only misplaced, it is inappropriate. Even within the context of Irene's world, Edie's presence is too worrying. Dustin Guy Defa's experimental film delivers a constant stream of frustrated uncomfortable confusion hinged with potential violence. Nothing about this ver low budget film "feels" like acting.
Walter Bakes creates a beautiful music with only a rubberband as he wanders through the ever-changing landscape of Brooklyn and the calm-wild of Texas. An artists' existential search and crisis that seems to require he pull his wife and child with him along the way. An uncertain future in A Rubberband Is An Unlikely Instrument, Matt Boyd.
Cinematography | 2011
Matt Boyd seems to be approaching documentary film with a style that is somewhere between the accepted notion of what documenting reality and The Maysles Brother's type of Direct Cinema that leave the audience wondering when what we are seeing is real or possibly staged. His study of marginalized musician, Walter Bakes, and his family in A Rubberband Is An Unlikely Instrument is a challenging but rewarding examination of decay and self-absorbtion. It does not hedge from showing the warts and all of its subject but it never feels judgmental or exploitive. Matt Boyd is heading to an interesting career.
And as I come to the end of this rambling post, Rick Alverson must be mentioned. Along with Kentucker Audley, Alverson may be the most interesting Film Artist who is unrelenting in his pursuit of cinematic truth. Rick Alverson is far more concerned with style than Audley. This may end up being Alverson's greatest challenge as filmmaker. His stylistic impulses sometimes appear to be at odds with the more immediate concerns just below the sensitive skin of his films. All the same, Alverson is building an amazing body of work. Best know for his 2012 film, The Comedy, which received a great deal of attention at the time of its release. It was praised and dismissed in equal measure. One of the dismissals came from my personal favorite Film Critic, A.O. Scott who caught me off guard when he was so frustrated by Alverson's movie that he felt the need to attack those of us who saw the merit in it. According to A.O. Scott if I find any "critical distance" or "interesting perspective" in Alverson's The Comedy — then I am the butt of Alverson's joke. I do not know Rick Alverson and I have not ever read an interview with him. I only am aware of him by his work. Alverson was not joking with The Comedy. Alverson presents a level of white male entitlement and human cruelty without offering any evaluation or background. Thanks to an amazing cast of effective actors, all we really need to know is passively communicated in the sad eyes and pointless actions. We might not like the main character or any of his friends, but viewers would need to be equally emotionally-stunted, damaged and as casually cruel as these characters to not see the tragic darkness which Alverson masterfully examines.
Doing his very best to push past what appears to be depression or something worse, Colm O'Leary slowly begins to construct his perception of an American home in The Builder, Rick Alverson, 2010
In The Builder, Alverson's first feature which was made in 2009 and very limited released 201o — he collaborates with Colm O'Leary to create a very realistic study of an immigrant who attempts to pursue construction of his American dream house. O'Leary has a strong presence, but is allowed very little to say. The film is a bleak depiction of a man fighting through a depression in pursuit of something that seems to be failed abstraction of something deeper he can't obtain. While the film offers viewers too little information to fully encage, it carries a power that is hard to forget. It feels like a film from an alternate universe of 1970's American Filmmaking. We don't understand this builder, but he feels far too real and familiar to forget.
Colm O'Leary and Will Oldham attempt to form a friendship for what appears to be two very different reasons.
New Jerusalem, Rick Alverson, 2011
In Rick Alverson's New Jerusalem we are given more insight into the two men we follow. New Jerusalem touches on everything from faith to immigration to PTSD but it only barely touches this topics and themes. Alverson's motivation is to explore an uneasy connection that begins to form between two men. This uncomfortable look at male bonding provides challenging ideas regarding the needs of male bonding. Ultimately, the viewer is never clear on why these two characters put up with each other. Aversion is not interested in resolving the tension and conflict. His goal is bring the reality of it to the audience.
Rick Alverson, 2011
The conclusion is left to us. The merging of "truth" and "fiction" will not always result in something simply entertaining and satisfying. Most often true art forces us to look at our own reflection and projections. Being able to fully understand the difference between real and fake is not always an asset. Most of human life is spent putting on one mask and quickly replacing it with another as we navigate our way through life. Not all of us want to escape from reality. Some of us want more from art than escape. I want to gain perspectives regarding the complexities and challenges of life. Like everyone, I want to know I'm not alone.
Little Edie notes the confusion of time, so do The Maysles Brothers artfully allow the confusion of truth. As the groundbreaking documentary was released over 40 years ago, it remains valid Film Art. Grey Gardens,
Albert Maysles & David Maysles, 1975.
"It's very difficult to keep the line between the past and the present. You know what I mean? It's awfully difficult." – Edith 'Little Edie' Bouvier Beale
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