Lost and Found Home Video Reviews: The Aura, Fame Whore, Radio On, and More

Between 2005 and 2007, I contributed reviews, interviews, and other features to Resonance, a Seattle-based magazine dedicated to music, movies, literature, and other arts. In 2008, it ceased publication after 14 years. Here are four of my video reviews, plus a couple of movie-related reviews.

THE AURA 

(Fabián Bielinsky, Argentina, 2005, 129 minutes) 

The final feature film from Argentina's Fabián Bielinsky, who was felled by a heart attack in 2006 at the age of 46, starts out much like his 2000 debut, Nine Queens, but soon segues into something altogether stranger. 

 

It's also more of a character study, and Bielinsky has conjured up one heck of a character, an unnamed epileptic taxidermist (Nine Queens' Ricardo Darín) with a photographic memory. After his wife splits the scene, his colleague Sontag (Alejandro Awada) convinces him to go on a hunting trip. 

 

During their foray into the woods, the men argue, Sontag leaves, and the taxidermist suffers a seizure. As he convulses, he experiences "the aura," a moment of intense clarity before the plunge into darkness. 

 

When he returns to consciousness, the taxidermist is disoriented and startled by a sound. Is it Sontag, a deer...or something else? In his confused state, he pulls the trigger of his gun. Near the body of the deceased, he finds an eerie dog and plans for a robbery. He absorbs every detail. 

 

Like the hunt, the heist doesn't go as planned, but The Aura isn't a morality tale; it's thornier than that. That there will never be another keenly-observed movie from its maker is an undeniable tragedy. (IFC)

 

Click here for the longer version.   

 

FAME WHORE 

(Jon Moritsugu, USA, 1997, 73 minutes) 

Wooden acting, clunky dialogue, and gaseous humor (a crank caller and big imaginary beagle bring the noise). 

 

So it goes with this grainy 16mm film from indie auteur Jon Moritsugu (Mod Fuck Explosion, Terminal USA). The 1997 satire's titular whores include surly tennis champion Jody (the obnoxious Peter Friedrich from Moritsugu's 2002 Scumrock), trust fund dilettante Sophie (the robotic Amy Davis, Moritsugu's wife) and kindly, yet creepy canine placement officer George (Victor of Aquitaine doing his best Crispin Glover imitation). 

 

Their desperate need to succeed has all the narrative drive and technical expertise of a glorified home movie--one featuring a soundtrack by indie-rock royalty Dub Narcotic Soundsystem, Emily's Sassy Lime, and Barbara Manning--but a home movie, nonetheless. Some people find this kind of thing charming. They should get out more. (Modulus Studio Arts)

RADIO ON 

(Christopher Petit, UK, 1979, 104 minutes) 

As the Modern Lovers once exclaimed, "I'm in love with the radio on / it helps me from being alone late at night." In "Roadrunner," front man Jonathan Richman had 1950s America on his mind; in Radio On, critic-turned-filmmaker Christopher Petit transfers that phenomenon to 1980s England, exchanging exultation for something more enigmatic. 

 

The result is Get Carter gone post-punk: TV actor David Beames plays a London DJ trying to unravel the mystery of his brother's demise. 

 

Instead, he meets a succession of travelers who share his feelings of loneliness and loss. Shot by frequent Wim Wenders cinematographer Martin Schäfer (Kings of the Road), Petit's first feature is a monochromatic road movie that captures a time of Bowie in Berlin, Kraftwerk on cassette, Wreckless Eric on the jukebox, and Police-era Sting (above) as an Eddie Cochrane-obsessed gas station attendant.  

 

Radio On would make for the ideal double bill with Border Radio, the restless debut, also in black and white, from fellow Wenders acolyte Alison Anders. 

 

Like the 1987 Anders film, which was co-directed by Kurt Voss and Dean Lent, the journey trumps the destination--Bristol in the case of the former, Mexico in the case of the latter. Petit's cinematic project may be chillier, but the patina of time only makes it seem cooler than ever. (Plexifilm)

CINEMA 16: EUROPEAN SHORT FILMS
(Various directors, 10 countries, 16 films, 2007, 218 minutes)

Democracy rules in Cinema 16 as up-and-comers rub shoulders with established filmmakers. Previous UK-only installments focused on the UK and US. Now Warp Films widens their scope to encompass an entire continent. Spread over two discs, this portable festival offers 16 shorts plus commentary. 

The earliest selections include Ridley Scott's 1958 ode to truancy "Boy and Bicycle," starring his younger brother Tony Scott (right), and Jan Švankmajer's 1971 Lewis Carroll-inspired "Jabberwocky." The rest are more recent, like Andrea Arnold's 2003 Oscar-winning "Wasp," which packs all the emotional complexity of a feature film into an economical 23 minutes.  

Cinema 16's combination of big names and promising neophytes, like playwright-turned-director Martin McDonagh (2004's profane "Six Shooter”), serves as an ideal introduction to today's art house--with nary a tightly-corseted literary adaptation to spoil the fun. (Warp Films)  

CATCHING THE BIG FISH: MEDITATION, CONSCIOUSNESS, AND CREATIVITY

(David Lynch, USA, 2007, 192 pages)

 

David Lynch explains the title metaphor of his short, punchy book, Catching the Big Fish, as follows: "Ideas are like fish. If you want to catch little fish, you can stay in the shallow water. But if you want to catch the big fish, you've got to go deeper." The famed director proceeds to describe his creative process through the prism of Transcendental Meditation.

 

Catching the Big Fish consists of 83 koan-like chapters, most less than a page in length. Lynch makes a point and then moves on. 

 

Those readers looking for explanations may leave disappointed, but Lynch has always insisted that all interpretations of his work are valid, and he isn't about to start spilling their secrets now--hence no director's commentaries on any of his Criterion Collection releases.

 

Granted, the director dubs his nightmarish debut, Eraserhead, "my most spiritual movie," but doesn't say why. Mostly, he reveals how he keeps the ideas coming, while staving off the "Suffocating Rubber Clown Suit of Negativity." And really, who wants that in their life? (Tarcher/Penguin)

YOU'RE GONNA MISS ME (Original Soundtrack) 

(Roky Erickson solo, with the 13th Floor Elevators, and with the Aliens, 2007, 12 tracks, 38:05 minutes) 

 

Though he found fame 30 years ago, 2007 will go down as the year of Roky Erickson--the year of this one-of-a-kind musician's resurrection, that is. 

 

After decades lost in a schizophrenic haze (exacerbated by electroshock therapy), Roky's brother, Sumner Erickson, established a trust and secured his sibling with the help he needed. Now Roky's playing out again, there's a new book about his wild and wiggy Elevators, and Keven McCalester has unleashed the six-years-in-the-making documentary You're Gonna Miss Me. 

 

Though the soundtrack covers similar ground as essential Roky anthology I Have Always Been Here Before, collectors should note the inclusion of two previously unreleased tracks: stripped-down versions of "For You (I'd Do Anything)" and "Goodbye Sweet Dreams"--both of which provide the blueprint for Austin neighbor Daniel Johnston's entire career. (Palm Pictures)

 

Images from Mubi (Ricardo Darín in The Aura and Tony Scott in Boy and Bicycle), American Genre Film Archive (Peter Friedrich and giant beagle in Fame Whore), Cineform (David Beames in Radio On), and Kinship Goods (Catching the Big Fish: Meditation, Consciousness and Creativity cover art).