Guy Maddin’s film My Winnipeg is the last movie I watched on my TV before it left for its new home. It is such a personal movie about home that it is a fitting start to my imagination recovery project. Besides the personal, there is a whole heaping dose of the creative as well. Usually Maddin is too esoteric for me. He’s one of those filmmakers whose wavelength you have to catch, and if you don’t, you are looking slack-jawed and glassy eyed wondering what the F* is this guy going on about?

I caught the rhythm of the stanzas that make up this visual poem. A young man trapped in the cold north, townsfolks who possess “just the right amount of wrong,” as a friend would say, and a city with some stunning moments in its history. But the glue that holds together the personal with the history of the city is Maddin’s own dysfunctional childhood. Hiring actors to recreate scenes from his childhood, he hopes that seeing them again will allow him adult insight into childhood hurts. Black and white, fantastic, and certainly pushing the boundaries of documentary, I’m actually surprised there wasn’t more of a discussion last year when the film was out about how it fits into the documentary canon. But, it’s also nice that people overwhelming appreciated the film and didn’t care to argue the labeling.

I’m happy this was the last movie I watched on my television set because last night, I was thinking about it and getting ideas for all of the possible projects I could start, or pick up where I left off with. My Winnipeg is such a beautiful collage of the personal combined with the historical, it almost sets a bar (for me, at least) for self-expression. Yes, it’s great to exorcise demons but great art is rarely personal only.

Along Came Kinky… Texas Jewboy for Governor by David Hartstein premiered on Thursday, March 19th at SXSW after much of the film industry had headed out of town. That slot implies that the film would have local appeal but maybe shouldn’t take up a slot during the official Film festival. I might take some heat for saying that, but the reason I’m saying it is because I think the film deserved more. In talking to the filmmakers after the screening, I was dismayed to hear that the film hasn’t been offered other fest slots. Really?

Politics in America is fucked. I don’t usually say stuff that that, but come on… Obama was a welcome glimmer of hope that perhaps, just maybe, we might start making a few good decisions to get ourselves out of the total mess we are in, but if anyone is thinking we are out of the woods, all I can say to that is No Way! Not even close. Budget crisis, healthcare crisis, employment crisis, foreign relations crisis and rampant greed and corruption. We are just at the tip of the iceberg. The Great Depression was worsened by The Dust Bowl, and we’ve gone ahead and nurtured the possibility of environmental disasters to rival anything that has happened in the past, just to define what a fine precipice we stand on right now.

I’m sitting here watching Lou Reed’s Berlin by Julian Schnabel and wrestling with it a bit. My own reaction is that I’m loving what Schnabel is doing cinematically. He draws us into a story via a concert enactment of a concept album by Lou Reed, of The Velvet Underground fame, called Berlin. Berlin, the album on which this performance is based, was panned critically when it came out in 1973 (according to the film’s opening titles). As I attempted to delve into the emotional landscape of the music, I understand why the critics panned the album. It’s tough. I’m not connecting. There is very little that is traditionally pleasing to the music; the “junkie lover” scenario is a bit of a stretch for us Y2K suburban honkies; and even with the “explanation” of Schnabel’s visuals, the whole of it isn’t very likable.

But I’m ahead of myself. The film chronicles a performance by Lou Reed of an album he released in 1973. It is what you might call a rock opera, and what Schnabel’s film attempts to do, is to fill in any holes left within musical and lyrical journey. This addition of a visual journey should help us to better appreciate the music via what is a largely performance-based film, but I’m sorry to say it isn’t working for me.

I had to stop by Warren’s review to see what he thought before writing my own post, and I see he had the exact opposite experience. The film gave him a new and profound appreciation for the music. I wish that were the case for me, as I love finding new ways to appreciate music, but it’s just not working for me here, though it is because of the music, not the film. Maybe the middle position is this… if you are drawn into the film right away, you will be able to follow the journey and perhaps have new appreciation for an artist with a mutifaceted musical persona. If you aren’t feelin’ it in the first 10 minutes, it ain’t gonna get any better.

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