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Despite
the pleasant weather of the past week, I've spent the last several days
in solitude, choosing to remain indoors in front of my television set.
Not that I've been watching much programming, with the exception of 'Sponge
Bob' and reruns of 'Mr. Show' (on Nickelodeon and HBO, respectively).
Instead, I've been trekking to the local video stores, returning with
piles upon piles of videocassettes and DVD's (yes, I've stepped into the
future
and it doesn't look half-bad). Of the countless films I've
watched, there have been many losers, some surprises, but only a few worth
mentioning.
Anyway,
you may remember hearing a bit about Jason Rosette's documentary BOOKWARS
last year during its one week run at Film Forum. Rosette spent much of
the mid-nineties working as one of many New York City street booksellers
situated around West 4th Street near NYU. In the midst of this heyday
of plentiful, cheap literature, Mayor Guiliani began his controversial
'quality of life' plan. Eventually, his campaign to clean the streets
of undesirables made its way from drunks, crazies, and crack-whores to
booksellers as well. Sensing the end was near, Rosette began documenting
the booksellers and their final days on the streets of lower Manhattan.
What he put together is a fascinating tale of street life that will probably
make you sour even further on the Guiliani administration and long for
the days when cheap alternatives to a fifteen dollar copy of 'On the Road'
at Barnes and Noble sat only a hundred feet away on the sidewalk outside.
Much like Richard Sandler's amazing film 'The Gods of Times Square', about
the clean up and Disneyfication of Times Square (recently screened at
Anthology Film Archives), Rosette gives you an inside look at people who
choose to live their lives outside "the system" but find it
increasingly hard to do so in this era of policing, monitoring, and reporting.
But maybe you don't care for this anti-authority attitude
and really believe in "the system". Well, good for you, I guess.
Enjoy it. Maybe you can watch this film and root for Guiliani and the
cops and cheer loudly when they try and stop these people from making
an honest living. If nothing else, the passion the sellers and their customers
hold for reading might at least get you to turn off your television or
computer for a few hours and pick up a book for God's sake.
Currently, BOOKWARS is available for rent at Kim's
Video on St.Mark's Place, or you can order your very own copy from their
web site at www.cinerado.com.
Sitting
on the industry shelf since its premiere at the Cannes Film Festival in
May 1997, Johnny Depp's directorial debut, THE BRAVE has finally hit home
video. Well, sort of. A few foreign copies of the DVD have recently hit
the streets (it hasn't officially been released in the U.S. as of yet).
Anyway, in the months following the infamous Cannes premiere, I heard
the film called "a turgid and unbelievable neo-Western" and
"strikingly preposterous" by Daily Variety, and saw one critic
describe the ill-received Cannes screening as the "experiences of
which legends are made." This hostile attitude, combined with my
tendencies to disagree with any and all critics, plus a cast that includes
Depp, Marlon Brando, and a who's who of great supporting actors including
Frederic Forrest, Luis Guzman, Clarence Williams III, Marshall Bell, and
Max Perlich, made me very interested in seeing the film. For the past
few years, I have eagerly anticipated the chance, even trying to pimp
copies from people I know who may have been connected to the project.
I've had no luck. Alas, with the appearance of the DVD last month, my
wish came true.
In the film, Depp plays Raphael, a Native American
living in a one-room trailer with his wife and two kids in the middle
of a junkyard/desert-wasteland. An ex-con that drinks heavily, sleeps
all afternoon, and can't find steady legal employment, he hasn't been
able to provide for his family in some time. Following a vague lead on
a job, Raphael finds himself in a creepy basement sitting across from
a man in a wheelchair. The man offers Raphael fifty thousand dollars to
star in a snuff film, to be produced later in the week. As the man making
the offer is played by Marlon Brando, it seems that Raphael surely can
not refuse. The story then goes on to detail Raphael's week; what he plans
to do about his predicament, and whether he plans on wrapping up his life
and saying goodbye to his family or taking the money and planning his
getaway.
When I say "story" in the last paragraph,
I say it loosely. After the very intriguing set up, Deep, as director,
coasts through the final seventy five minutes on mood, ambience, and a
musical score by Iggy Pop. Be advised, this movie is slow, this movie
is a downer, and with the exception of a vicious fight scene in which
Raphael snacks on another man's ear, this movie consists mostly of people
walking and talking, or sitting and talking, or laying and talking, or
walking, sitting, or laying without talking. But maybe you, like me, can
appreciate a really good set up, then not mind so much when the rest of
the film chills the fuck out instead of continuing to build and build
and build. You know what happens when things build and build and build?
They topple over.
And speaking of movies that coast on ambience and
mood, another recent video release is Abel Ferrara's THE BLACKOUT, which
also premiered at the 1997 Cannes Film Festival to much hatred and disapproval,
then vanished without a trace for four years. Finally, here it is in all
its glory for us Ferrara fans (you know who you are - stand up and be
proud!)
The
Blackout follows budding superstar actor Matty, painfully portrayed by
Matthew Modine (painful in a good way - when he wakes up stoned out of
his head in a diner, then realizes his waitress is confessing how much
of a fan she is, I couldn't help but wince for the guy as he tries to
compose himself and take the girl's compliment). Matty spends the first
half of the film cruising the beaches and clubs of Miami with his girlfriend
Annie (Beatrice Dalle) and filmmaker/video-artist friend Mickey (Dennis
Hopper). They are kind of making a movie, but they're kind of not. And
they all kind of get along, but they kind of don't. In any case, Mickey
carries his video camera with him all the time, taping and directing the
sex and drugs - part friend, part director. Things happen, but seem to
not happen chronologically. Scenes exist as fragments and notions, occurring
with no set beginning or end. The sex, drugs, and alcohol escalate, with
Matty spending much of his time in a barely conscious state. Eventually,
the party derails and Matty crashes to a halt. Eighteen months later,
Matty is sober and living in New York. His friends are gone, his career
is on hold, and he is struggling with nightmares that tell him something
terrible happened that week in Miami.
Not quite as potent as Ferrara's two Harvey Keitel
films, 'Bad Lieutenant' and 'Dangerous Game', in which Keitel played a
cop spiraling down a drug nightmare (Bad Lieutenant) and a film director
spiraling down a drug nightmare (Dangerous Game), this one still has powerful
moments and dangerous absurd humor. As for Ferrara's style, his films
are becoming more deconstructed, abstract, and obviously more alienating
(for evidence of alienation, dig up some reviews or check out the comments
on the Internet Movie Database).
To put it bluntly, watching this movie is like watching
a train wreck. And unfortunately, the old cliché says that while
a train wreck can be fascinating to watch, for it to be interesting you
have to like or care about the passengers involved. So, for those of you
hard core logic-addicts expecting major plot points and standard character
development, this probably wouldn't be worth your missing 'Boston Public'
over. However, if you don't need such things to hold your interest, then
sit back and enjoy as Ferrara corrupts and destroys another cast of characters,
spiraling them out of control in a haze of sex and drugs. In my opinion,
a train wreck can be fascinating even if you don't like the people involved.
Hell, who cares who's even ON the train? I say, let 'em crash. All aboard!
-- Paul Kermizian
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| August 2001 | Issue 17
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