Here is a wonderful little niche genre.
Movies are essentially striving to art. Few qualify. Almost no one can manage the complex juggling act that it takes. It just involves too many people, too many risks, too many dependencies on happy accidents. But the fact that film CAN BE art is what underlies all film.
What if you cannot make a film that has artistic merit?
One solution is that you make a film about artists. The problem is that even if you branch away from film in search of a broader field, you run into the market effect. Art may exist all over, but unless if finds a hook that allows it to catch some market force to sweep it to you, you will never see it.
That means that market forces co- create art, and more particularly the many souls making decisions that are abstracted into this “force.” That is a nuanced way of saying that in some respect we are at the mercy of some group we may not like.
Here we are introduced to one of those groups. They believe themselves to be artists. Some critical mass of consumers buy the argument. One of them did the requisite dying for her art. All have suffered and sacrificed, as we see documented. I saw this intermingled with documentaries that exposed the corruption in how food is produced, how the food is literally killing us and what we made as this society. This fits, I believe. The tinkering at the edge that these small souls do could never matter to me. But being exposed does. Because it is not about what you accept, but what you choose not that matters.
So the film works on that level. And on another. Harmony Korine is one of this group, one who speaks engagingly. This is an unexpected and effective bridge between film and the sausage machine that makes film. It was welcome. I like this kid and his work. He wonders about geekiness, loneliness and technology the same way I did and possibly would even now. So there is a predetermined familiarity, an acceptance of soul when seeing him.
Didn’t like his friends though.
Posted in 2010
Ted’s Evaluation — 3 of 3: Worth watching.