Personal Cinema
I was overwhelmed by Ross McElwee's Sherman's March: A Meditation on the Possibility of Romantic Love in the South During an Era of Nuclear Weapons Proliferation. Tarnation was an impressive example of personal cinema, sure, but it didn't have the same impact on me as this film, probably because I feel I can identify more with McElwee than Jonathan Caouette.
My main reaction is like how when you read a lot of someone's writing you feel you know them as a friend, except more powerful since this is cinema. He's not just telling you about his awkward attempts at "coupling", as one of the cast puts it so deftly, you're actually in the moment as, for example, he tries to convince one of his longtime woman friends to start dating him, and fails somewhat embarrassingly.
He gets advice and encouragement from his high school teacher, Charleen, who is adamant that he get married and reproduce at once, if not sooner. That their conversation is being videotaped is not so weird; it's the fact that since he's behind the camera, it started to feel to me like I was the one being exhorted, especially since I share a lot of McElwee's flaws, at least those that seemed to Charleen to be particularly negative.
At first I just thought it was going to be diverting, and McElwee does retain a sense of humor throughout. There are moments where you can tell he must be excited to have something so perfect fall into his lap while the camera was running. But as the film progresses, he becomes a semi-tragic figure, continually falling in love with women who either have to leave almost immediately or who are inappropriate for him one way or another. I kept waiting for him to end with some resounding success story or advice or something, since it felt more like a personal conversation than a feature-length documentary, but instead he hints that despite his disappointments he's ready to give love another try.
It's too bad none of his other films are available on Netflix at the moment. I'll be sure to see Bright Leaves as soon as it comes out on DVD. Time Indefinite sounds like it might be even better.
My main reaction is like how when you read a lot of someone's writing you feel you know them as a friend, except more powerful since this is cinema. He's not just telling you about his awkward attempts at "coupling", as one of the cast puts it so deftly, you're actually in the moment as, for example, he tries to convince one of his longtime woman friends to start dating him, and fails somewhat embarrassingly.
He gets advice and encouragement from his high school teacher, Charleen, who is adamant that he get married and reproduce at once, if not sooner. That their conversation is being videotaped is not so weird; it's the fact that since he's behind the camera, it started to feel to me like I was the one being exhorted, especially since I share a lot of McElwee's flaws, at least those that seemed to Charleen to be particularly negative.
At first I just thought it was going to be diverting, and McElwee does retain a sense of humor throughout. There are moments where you can tell he must be excited to have something so perfect fall into his lap while the camera was running. But as the film progresses, he becomes a semi-tragic figure, continually falling in love with women who either have to leave almost immediately or who are inappropriate for him one way or another. I kept waiting for him to end with some resounding success story or advice or something, since it felt more like a personal conversation than a feature-length documentary, but instead he hints that despite his disappointments he's ready to give love another try.
It's too bad none of his other films are available on Netflix at the moment. I'll be sure to see Bright Leaves as soon as it comes out on DVD. Time Indefinite sounds like it might be even better.
Labels: Film
Posted on Tuesday, May 10, 2005
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