Tuesday, 1 April 2014
Introducing... Mondo Fondue
Hi there,
There's this new thing called MONDO FONDUE.
First Thursday of every month at the very happening RECORD CRATE in Glebe.
Opening night is Thursday the 3rd of April, 2014 at 7pm.
It’s a bit different to the Chauvel - it’s a bit broader, less movies, more talk and music.
It's a bit more lo-fi, a bit kookier.
I’ve attached the flyer and press release for your perusal on the mondo fondue blog.
Please let me know if you have any questions. I am looking for artists and audiences.
Thanks,
Brett Garten
Monday, 23 February 2009
My curatorial swansong - this week at Cinematheque
Yes folks, you read it right, my time as curator at the Chauvel Cinematheque has come to an end. On the 5th of February I received an email from the manager of the Chauvel Cinema stating that my services programming cinematheque would no longer be required. I knew the writing was on the wall when the Saturday screenings were canned a few months back and replaced with sessions of Madagascar 2, but it was still a shock.A Cinematheque will continue at the Chauvel, but the programming will now be done in-house. You'll now have to go to the Chauvel website to find out what's on.
After more than two and a half years and close to 300 shows, I still felt I had more to give, in fact I felt I was just starting to find some real momentum, with some exciting new film suppliers in the wings, a growing active membership and growing input from the members.
The good news is that my tenure as the curator of the Cinematheque will go out with a bang. The last show is on at 6:30 March the 2nd and is the last part in a month long look at the phenomenon of multi-screen movies, or movies that use multiple projectors.
The ultimate night comprises a double feature of multi-screen works by local arts/music experimentalists The Stud and Track Recording Company. The first is a retooling of a 1999 show performed live at the Side On Cafe in Sydney called Idaho Transfer. This show uses a captioned-for-the-deaf print of Peter Fonda's bizarre 1973 science fiction film (above), projected in a twin screen format and given a new, improvised, lo-fi, psychedelic, garage-rock soundtrack by the Stud and Track House Band. The music was recorded at a rehearsal for the show in 1999 and will be remixed live on the night by Brad Maiden.The second half of the show is a new work, Journey to the Seventh Planet, devised especially for this show. It features a twin screen presentation of the Z-grade Danish science fiction film, a kind of poor man's Solaris, with a new soundtrack that combines elements of the film's original soundtrack, with ambient, electronic and experimental music.
Both shows will showcase the amazing power and fidelity of Lenard Audio's Cinesthesia sound system.
I've always dreamed of filling the main Chauvel cinema and this is my last chance, so if you've enjoyed cinematheque in the past, please come and say hello... and goodbye. Hope to see you there.
I have enjoyed my tenure as the curator of the cinematheque and thank Chauvel and Palace Cinemas for giving me the opportunity in the first place. I will take some time out to renovate the home, concentrate on my University studies, and look after my (soon-to-be) two kids. Hopefully, I can get something else together sometime later in the year. The wheels are already turning. I have a giant backlog of material that was meant for this blog, so I will be updating it regularly. Thanks to all the members past and present.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
Expanded Cinema - this week at Cinematheque
Week Three of a month long look at the phenomenon of multi-screen movies continues this week at the Chauvel Cinematheque. This special event is devoted to (mostly) Australian experimental art films that use two and three projectors.
6:30pm Monday 23/2/9 EXPANDED CINEMA
Razor Blades USA/1968/Colour/25mins/16mm/NFVLS Dir: Paul Sharits.
From the filmmaker: “A mandala opens to the other side of consciousness. Since the film ends as it begins and because its inner fabric is made up of loops, an infinite loop is suggested.” Sharits hopes this twin screen flicker film provides "occasions for meditational-visionary experience."
“A barrage of high powered and often contradictory stimuli… We feel at times hypnotised and re-educated by some potent and mysterious force.” David Beinstock, Whitney Museum.
Rotunda Australia/1980/Colour/11mins/16mm/NFVLS Dir: John Dunkley Smith.
An exercise in perception involving spatial and temporal interplay. Although shot patterns have been determined with a mathematical precision, the film is constructed by the viewer's apprehension/ordering/re-ordering of the constituent elements. There is also scope for the intrusion of chance elements not only within the images themselves but also in the slight variations of image juxtaposition which can occur as a result of the differences in running speed between projectors. This film involves a panning camera placed in the centre of a rotunda in a park. Twin screen presentation.
Experiments Australia/1982/Colour/54mins/16mm/NFVLS Dir: Dirk de Bruyn.
A series of experiments employing a range of techniques including refilmed images, solarisation, time-lapse, animation of found objects, word-puns, letrasetted and recycled soundtracks, pixillation, hand dyed film and rapid editing. The filmmaker describes it as 'a scream from suburbia' and 'a statement about filmmaking itself'. A twin screen film.
The City Australia/1970/Colour/8mins/16mm/NFVLS Producers: Arthur Cantrill, Corinne Cantrill.
A composite view of the city is created by three films screened simultaneously. The centre film has a soundtrack of mechanised noise.
Meteor Crater - Gosse Bluff Australia/1978/Colour/6mins/16mm/ NFVLS Dir: Arthur & Corinne Cantrill.
A composite view of a meteor crater is created by a central picture of superimposed images framed by two circling images of 360 degree pans of the crater.
6:30pm Monday 23/2/9 EXPANDED CINEMA
Razor Blades USA/1968/Colour/25mins/16mm/NFVLS Dir: Paul Sharits.
From the filmmaker: “A mandala opens to the other side of consciousness. Since the film ends as it begins and because its inner fabric is made up of loops, an infinite loop is suggested.” Sharits hopes this twin screen flicker film provides "occasions for meditational-visionary experience."
“A barrage of high powered and often contradictory stimuli… We feel at times hypnotised and re-educated by some potent and mysterious force.” David Beinstock, Whitney Museum.
Rotunda Australia/1980/Colour/11mins/16mm/NFVLS Dir: John Dunkley Smith.
An exercise in perception involving spatial and temporal interplay. Although shot patterns have been determined with a mathematical precision, the film is constructed by the viewer's apprehension/ordering/re-ordering of the constituent elements. There is also scope for the intrusion of chance elements not only within the images themselves but also in the slight variations of image juxtaposition which can occur as a result of the differences in running speed between projectors. This film involves a panning camera placed in the centre of a rotunda in a park. Twin screen presentation.
Experiments Australia/1982/Colour/54mins/16mm/NFVLS Dir: Dirk de Bruyn.
A series of experiments employing a range of techniques including refilmed images, solarisation, time-lapse, animation of found objects, word-puns, letrasetted and recycled soundtracks, pixillation, hand dyed film and rapid editing. The filmmaker describes it as 'a scream from suburbia' and 'a statement about filmmaking itself'. A twin screen film.
The City Australia/1970/Colour/8mins/16mm/NFVLS Producers: Arthur Cantrill, Corinne Cantrill.
A composite view of the city is created by three films screened simultaneously. The centre film has a soundtrack of mechanised noise.
Meteor Crater - Gosse Bluff Australia/1978/Colour/6mins/16mm/ NFVLS Dir: Arthur & Corinne Cantrill.
A composite view of a meteor crater is created by a central picture of superimposed images framed by two circling images of 360 degree pans of the crater.
Cheesla Grills (Prat 2) by Pia Santaklaus
CHELSEA GIRLS (part2)
Tonight (16 February 2009), we watched the second half of CHELSEA GIRLS.
This inappropriately named film (note: there are often more males than females present on the screen) is yet another indication of how ruthlessly exploitative the Warhol machine was. Perhaps ‘CHELSEA BOYS’ wouldn’t have enough pull. Advertising sorts will tell you that girls sell more product than boys and so the film title (like the movie poster) becomes another tool of deception.
I remain hesitant to write more on this film as it affords the undeserving subject further publicity, though I can use this opportunity to state that CHELSEA GIRLS remains barely worth watching. In the hands of a real craftsman or artist, the film ‘highlights’ could be distilled into a 3 minute short that could hold something valid. As it sits, CHELSEA GIRLS is a kind of dated precursor to today’s mindless BIG BROTHER ‘reality’ shows, in which fame-seeking, extrovert youth are followed by a camera and microphone picking up even the most (unedited) mundane, unscripted behaviour unfolding.
It’s amazing how little quality Warhol achieved here, even using such a large number of people at the Factory. You’ve heard ‘Many hands make light work’; in this case ‘light’ translates to ‘insubstantial’ and ‘of little importance’. CHELSEA GIRLS really does look like perhaps a few lazy, inept individuals got up one day with a surprising pinch of pseudo-motivation and decided to rally their pitiful combined lowly energies into a stumbling together of fumbled, base, crass, indulgent drivel. CHELSEA GIRLS is not Art, by non-artists.
Sequence 7 returns to the arrogant, chubby, bald fellow still in bed with the slim fellow (“Patrick”) who’s good ‘bouff’ of hair is again messed up and tussled by an envious balding fellow who can’t leave the ‘do’ alone. Various others enter the picture, including a wigged person (in drag) who loves singing cabaret-style numbers.
Already people begin to leave the cinema. I don’t blame them. These ‘leavers’ must respect their valuable time, not willing to waste it on what appears to be the hazy reality of hazy non-entities on the screen. Not everyone wants to watch the jealous ranting of an overweight “smelly” bald guy with “ugly toes”. “Ingrid” enters the picture as well; she clearly picks her nose, and offers the camera ‘the finger’ a few times.
Sequence 8 introduces colour to the screen. Gerard Malanga is on a bed with an angry old woman(?), a bull whip and a crucifix on the wall in what seems to be an exercise in uninterrupted tedium. Also appearing in this segment is the quite attractive head ‘bitch’ from last week’s sequence 5 & 6 who mostly sits there looking fatale.
At times the sequence becomes so boring and uninspired that the person behind the camera begins to add ‘something’ by providing more ‘non-action’ with irritating, harsh, fast zooming in and out. The effect is pathetic, uncontrolled and random. I wonder if it amused the cameraman. Malanga puts on perhaps a dozen long beaded necklaces… time passes slowly in what seems to be a game of ‘what can we do now to fill more time in front of the camera?’. The boredom continues uninterrupted until sound comes on and we hear some interesting, eerie psychedelic music playing in the background.
Sequence 9 is also in colour, but this time an intense, bright ‘solar’ orange filtered aura surrounds a fair youth in close shot. Though no photographs could possibly exist of the romantic poet Percy Bysshe SHELLEY (1792-1822), this young ‘actor’ with his inoffensive dimpled chin, fair skin and long hair has an uncanny resemblance to the radical poet whose image was captured in paintings and drawings of the time.
In this sequence, which seems to be in some kind of sensory deprivation space, he speaks slowly in a free-flow fashion. Awash in warm red light stating he “can’t feel a thing, eyes can’t focus” and “I wish I was a piece of sweat”, he focuses considerable attention on his own hair. He plays with his hair and asks “don’t you want to comb your hair?” before he begins combing and caring for his hair. He describes his hair as “beautiful” and also discusses how “Hair lets people down”. He adds various vacuous comments about how he likes having “fun” and “eating apples” and “meeting people”.
More audience get up and leave the cinema. It is painfully obvious that we are sitting here in the dark watching underwhelming people doing and saying nothing much.
Though this sequence experiments with light and colour it isn’t enough to warrant attention. The light in the background becomes a contrasting intense blue as the red-lit ‘actor’ becomes a little ‘blue movie’ presence; he performs fellatio on his own finger, then gets “hot” and takes off his shirt as the camera zooms in very close to his hairy chest. He coyly takes off his pants, tips his head back and rubs his long hair over his back saying he loves the “tingle” and “I’m very sensitive”. It feels like we’ve been tricked into watching soft male porn as a pulsating strobe light and changing colour effects play ‘hide n seek’ with his form. He finds a hairbrush and combs his hair down to hide his face and states “I’ll pray with my hair”. It seems more and more that the underlying running theme (if any) in CHELSEA GIRLS is hair…
Concurrently, sequence 10 is being projected. The same ‘actor’ is present in both sequence 9 & 10. At one point he turns his head and seems to be looking at himself in the other projected sequence. In sequence 9 he is alone in the coloured dark (sometimes holding a mirror) and in sequence 10 stands amongst a crowd gathered together looking down from what appears to be a kind of elevated theatre ‘box’; the crowd aglow in blue light all appear to be watching a ‘show’ that we cannot see…not available to the cinema audience, we are watching them watching something we can only hear. Sure!
More people get up and leave the cinema.
Sequence 11 sees the return of the “Pope” (the ‘therapist’ in last week’s 2nd sequence). Here the film is in black and white. This deluded figure ties a tourniquet around his arm and injects his hand. He appears alone, moody, irritable and cannot think of what to say for the camera. He needs to somehow fill 35 minutes and asks Paul Morrissey (who is behind the camera) “What should I do, comb my hair?” He sees himself as an all-important holy figure. He dubs himself “Pope” and discusses his “flock” of “homosexuals, perverts, thieves, criminals, rejects”. He wants to be idolized and even alludes to being God. He wants a confession and soon a female enters the scene to provide one. They pseudo-philosophize and at one point he tells her “Where is heaven? It’s on my shoulder”. It seems she innocently said something he didn’t agree with and in a snap he becomes horrifically angry and obnoxious and with a kind of sick religious fervour, he genuinely, slaps, beats, hurts and curses her in an act of uncontrolled violence. After the terrified girl is driven away, the worked-up ‘Pope’ rants on about various opinions including something about 1954 when “The Roman Catholic Church has disappeared and Greenwich Village took its place”. He is full of himself and is aware that “this may be a historical document”.
On another projection we see the 12th and final sequence featuring Nico (who had appeared in the opening sequence - perhaps conveying a cyclical element). This time Nico is alone and in colour. The scene opens with her looking teary, sad and contemplative. In shadows, colours and lights project onto her face. More zooming in and out to disguise the lack of action, it is perhaps the slowest-moving sequence yet. Nico does so little that she could be mistaken as an anthropomorphic representation of a projection screen. Her face provides the stage and platform to be used for a mini ‘Exploding Plastic Inevitable’ psychedelic light show. The background noise is groovy echo-chambered psychedelic.
Finally it’s all over!
I am far from impressed with this overlong film which exposes Warhol as a charlatan. Warhol was a problem unto himself. Many of his physical characteristics were not strong. He disliked much about himself including his weak eyesight, his bulbous nose and his early balding head. It drove him. For his eyes he wore glasses. For his nose he had surgery, and for his lack of hair he became obsessed with hair pieces, wigs and such. It’s quite possible the weak thread theme ‘hair’ running through this film was suggested by Warhol, relating to his own insecurity which developed when follicles thinned out quite early.
I see Warhol as a kind of pale, wig-wearing, lonely succubus who ‘rapes’ those unsuspecting inside and outside his sphere of influence. He enticed lost youth into his world and absorbed the fruit of their ideas; though he would surely know the fruit wasn’t so sweet, he also knew he could market and package even the rotting stuff in such a way as to fool enough people to provide him with credit.
Warhol had a hunger to be rich and famous; he somehow achieved this, then went on to become his own cliché, which in effect is a cliché of something wrong.
Pia Santaklaus
16 February 2009.
Tonight (16 February 2009), we watched the second half of CHELSEA GIRLS.
This inappropriately named film (note: there are often more males than females present on the screen) is yet another indication of how ruthlessly exploitative the Warhol machine was. Perhaps ‘CHELSEA BOYS’ wouldn’t have enough pull. Advertising sorts will tell you that girls sell more product than boys and so the film title (like the movie poster) becomes another tool of deception.
I remain hesitant to write more on this film as it affords the undeserving subject further publicity, though I can use this opportunity to state that CHELSEA GIRLS remains barely worth watching. In the hands of a real craftsman or artist, the film ‘highlights’ could be distilled into a 3 minute short that could hold something valid. As it sits, CHELSEA GIRLS is a kind of dated precursor to today’s mindless BIG BROTHER ‘reality’ shows, in which fame-seeking, extrovert youth are followed by a camera and microphone picking up even the most (unedited) mundane, unscripted behaviour unfolding.
It’s amazing how little quality Warhol achieved here, even using such a large number of people at the Factory. You’ve heard ‘Many hands make light work’; in this case ‘light’ translates to ‘insubstantial’ and ‘of little importance’. CHELSEA GIRLS really does look like perhaps a few lazy, inept individuals got up one day with a surprising pinch of pseudo-motivation and decided to rally their pitiful combined lowly energies into a stumbling together of fumbled, base, crass, indulgent drivel. CHELSEA GIRLS is not Art, by non-artists.
Sequence 7 returns to the arrogant, chubby, bald fellow still in bed with the slim fellow (“Patrick”) who’s good ‘bouff’ of hair is again messed up and tussled by an envious balding fellow who can’t leave the ‘do’ alone. Various others enter the picture, including a wigged person (in drag) who loves singing cabaret-style numbers.
Already people begin to leave the cinema. I don’t blame them. These ‘leavers’ must respect their valuable time, not willing to waste it on what appears to be the hazy reality of hazy non-entities on the screen. Not everyone wants to watch the jealous ranting of an overweight “smelly” bald guy with “ugly toes”. “Ingrid” enters the picture as well; she clearly picks her nose, and offers the camera ‘the finger’ a few times.Sequence 8 introduces colour to the screen. Gerard Malanga is on a bed with an angry old woman(?), a bull whip and a crucifix on the wall in what seems to be an exercise in uninterrupted tedium. Also appearing in this segment is the quite attractive head ‘bitch’ from last week’s sequence 5 & 6 who mostly sits there looking fatale.
At times the sequence becomes so boring and uninspired that the person behind the camera begins to add ‘something’ by providing more ‘non-action’ with irritating, harsh, fast zooming in and out. The effect is pathetic, uncontrolled and random. I wonder if it amused the cameraman. Malanga puts on perhaps a dozen long beaded necklaces… time passes slowly in what seems to be a game of ‘what can we do now to fill more time in front of the camera?’. The boredom continues uninterrupted until sound comes on and we hear some interesting, eerie psychedelic music playing in the background.
Sequence 9 is also in colour, but this time an intense, bright ‘solar’ orange filtered aura surrounds a fair youth in close shot. Though no photographs could possibly exist of the romantic poet Percy Bysshe SHELLEY (1792-1822), this young ‘actor’ with his inoffensive dimpled chin, fair skin and long hair has an uncanny resemblance to the radical poet whose image was captured in paintings and drawings of the time.
In this sequence, which seems to be in some kind of sensory deprivation space, he speaks slowly in a free-flow fashion. Awash in warm red light stating he “can’t feel a thing, eyes can’t focus” and “I wish I was a piece of sweat”, he focuses considerable attention on his own hair. He plays with his hair and asks “don’t you want to comb your hair?” before he begins combing and caring for his hair. He describes his hair as “beautiful” and also discusses how “Hair lets people down”. He adds various vacuous comments about how he likes having “fun” and “eating apples” and “meeting people”.
More audience get up and leave the cinema. It is painfully obvious that we are sitting here in the dark watching underwhelming people doing and saying nothing much.
Though this sequence experiments with light and colour it isn’t enough to warrant attention. The light in the background becomes a contrasting intense blue as the red-lit ‘actor’ becomes a little ‘blue movie’ presence; he performs fellatio on his own finger, then gets “hot” and takes off his shirt as the camera zooms in very close to his hairy chest. He coyly takes off his pants, tips his head back and rubs his long hair over his back saying he loves the “tingle” and “I’m very sensitive”. It feels like we’ve been tricked into watching soft male porn as a pulsating strobe light and changing colour effects play ‘hide n seek’ with his form. He finds a hairbrush and combs his hair down to hide his face and states “I’ll pray with my hair”. It seems more and more that the underlying running theme (if any) in CHELSEA GIRLS is hair…
Concurrently, sequence 10 is being projected. The same ‘actor’ is present in both sequence 9 & 10. At one point he turns his head and seems to be looking at himself in the other projected sequence. In sequence 9 he is alone in the coloured dark (sometimes holding a mirror) and in sequence 10 stands amongst a crowd gathered together looking down from what appears to be a kind of elevated theatre ‘box’; the crowd aglow in blue light all appear to be watching a ‘show’ that we cannot see…not available to the cinema audience, we are watching them watching something we can only hear. Sure!
More people get up and leave the cinema.
Sequence 11 sees the return of the “Pope” (the ‘therapist’ in last week’s 2nd sequence). Here the film is in black and white. This deluded figure ties a tourniquet around his arm and injects his hand. He appears alone, moody, irritable and cannot think of what to say for the camera. He needs to somehow fill 35 minutes and asks Paul Morrissey (who is behind the camera) “What should I do, comb my hair?” He sees himself as an all-important holy figure. He dubs himself “Pope” and discusses his “flock” of “homosexuals, perverts, thieves, criminals, rejects”. He wants to be idolized and even alludes to being God. He wants a confession and soon a female enters the scene to provide one. They pseudo-philosophize and at one point he tells her “Where is heaven? It’s on my shoulder”. It seems she innocently said something he didn’t agree with and in a snap he becomes horrifically angry and obnoxious and with a kind of sick religious fervour, he genuinely, slaps, beats, hurts and curses her in an act of uncontrolled violence. After the terrified girl is driven away, the worked-up ‘Pope’ rants on about various opinions including something about 1954 when “The Roman Catholic Church has disappeared and Greenwich Village took its place”. He is full of himself and is aware that “this may be a historical document”.
On another projection we see the 12th and final sequence featuring Nico (who had appeared in the opening sequence - perhaps conveying a cyclical element). This time Nico is alone and in colour. The scene opens with her looking teary, sad and contemplative. In shadows, colours and lights project onto her face. More zooming in and out to disguise the lack of action, it is perhaps the slowest-moving sequence yet. Nico does so little that she could be mistaken as an anthropomorphic representation of a projection screen. Her face provides the stage and platform to be used for a mini ‘Exploding Plastic Inevitable’ psychedelic light show. The background noise is groovy echo-chambered psychedelic.
Finally it’s all over!
I am far from impressed with this overlong film which exposes Warhol as a charlatan. Warhol was a problem unto himself. Many of his physical characteristics were not strong. He disliked much about himself including his weak eyesight, his bulbous nose and his early balding head. It drove him. For his eyes he wore glasses. For his nose he had surgery, and for his lack of hair he became obsessed with hair pieces, wigs and such. It’s quite possible the weak thread theme ‘hair’ running through this film was suggested by Warhol, relating to his own insecurity which developed when follicles thinned out quite early.
I see Warhol as a kind of pale, wig-wearing, lonely succubus who ‘rapes’ those unsuspecting inside and outside his sphere of influence. He enticed lost youth into his world and absorbed the fruit of their ideas; though he would surely know the fruit wasn’t so sweet, he also knew he could market and package even the rotting stuff in such a way as to fool enough people to provide him with credit.
Warhol had a hunger to be rich and famous; he somehow achieved this, then went on to become his own cliché, which in effect is a cliché of something wrong.
Pia Santaklaus
16 February 2009.
Tuesday, 17 February 2009
RAW-HOL & THE CHEESLA GRILLS by Pia Santaklaus
09 February 09:
CHELSEA GIRLS (1966)
Firstly, I must mention that I should not be writing a report on a film that has already had too much hype, exposure and free advertising, but I do it (at the risk of further promoting it) to say that this curio has almost no redeeming qualities and that perhaps if every copy of this film were destroyed, the world might still manage to keep turning.
By far and away the best thing about this film is the fabulously impressive, imaginative and sexy movie poster designed by artist Alan Aldridge (who had worked with the Beatles and the Who) which offers far greater reward than Warhol’s tedious film could ever hope to. Warhol knew the movie wasn’t as good as the poster and in a rare show of humility admitted it to Aldridge. The poster design was inspired by the surrealist work of Rene Magritte and I believe the success of CHELSEA GIRLS owes almost everything to that poster. The poster got more ‘bums on seats’ than Warhol could have hoped for, but then at such a cost; imagine the massive anticlimaxes experienced by most viewers when they suddenly realize they’ve been swindled. (You can’t judge a film by its poster!!!) This is TRULY one of the greatest examples of an exploitation movie. Cheap and nasty, often out of focus, unedited, overlong, boring, ugly, incoherent, mostly insignificant subjects, no real highlights, poor sound quality…the list goes on… Stand back for a moment and you should see that Warhol’s philosophy of filmmaking must surely translate in parallel to the philosophy of Warhol’s printmaking. If so, then the true worth of his prints comes into focus…they too begin to appear unworthy and exploitative. Warhol is the ‘King Rat’ overseeing a bunch of smaller rotten rats, and all together they leave behind great mounds of rat shit.
Shot mostly at the Chelsea Hotel and The Factory, the film is an amalgamation of around a dozen sections, each approximately 35 minutes. It is customary to show these sections on 2 projectors, not only halving the time it takes to expunge the tedium, but viewers might also imagine there is twice the possibility that something interesting might happen, although keeping the eyes busy still isn’t enough to save this film.
The opening scene presents a slow-moving Nico standing around a tired, messy, kitchenette snipping away at her hair. Her hair looks impressive, but it seems to take forever to trim a few ‘bangs’. Nico would later go on to record a solo album called CHELSEA GIRL to capitalise on the movie title. (Recorded April-May 1967, Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, John Cale and others contributed greatly to Nico’s album). Apparently the Nico scene was added later in the process to replace an earlier scene featuring the enigmatic and popular Edie Sedgewick (who later actually moved in to the Chelsea Hotel) who insisted her sequence be taken out of the movie. She requested Warhol stop showing her films. The ‘team’ of Sedgewick and Warhol (blonde on blonde?) had a falling-out by late 1965. Sedgewick, perhaps justifiably, had felt over-exploited by Warhol and was considering working with Bob Dylan and his management. It seems she may have even been under some kind of contract with them whilst CHELSEA GIRLS was being made. A film called ‘AFTERNOON’ eventually surfaced with edited footage of Edie from ‘Chelsea Girls’. Charismatic Edie’s presence may have saved this sinking vessel… the footage of her should never have been taken out of this film. While Nico preening herself is of some interest for about 3 minutes, too much footage reveals that even ‘Stars’ end up in cheap dirty kitchens and lame situations.
The next sequence, partly scripted, partly ad-libbed, is the manipulative therapist (‘the-rapist’) who verbally forces himself on a sad creature called “Ingrid”. The role is something akin to a ‘priest and confessor’ in an “ex-Catholic boudoir”. Ultimately, these characters don’t hold enough interest to warrant complete focus on them for over half an hour. The split screen running 2 images simultaneously adds significantly to the watchability of this drab segment.
Regarding the ‘psychiatric couch’, a relatively new ‘invention’, I imagine Sigmund Freud got the idea from understanding the significance, outrageousness and profit potential of millions of devout Catholics (and other religious) unloading their issues in a private box, to a faceless ‘agent’ of God. Confession is an ages-old practise that seems to help sinners get things ‘off their chest’. It supposedly provides healing for the ‘soul’ with the grace and forgiveness of God. I believe modern psychiatry is closely related to confession (‘psyche’ means ‘soul’ or ‘spirit’). Psychiatry probably took confession one step further as the troubled can unload their ‘burden’ on a ‘faceless’ ear, and all the while they can even lie back on a comfy couch… this value-added innovation (providing a comfortable couch) was enough to begin charging people money for their ‘confessions’… Today, we also have TV talk shows to provide some tarted-up healing.
At one point the 2 screen images seemed to offer an ever-so-vague synch. While Nico preens her hair on one screen, Ingrid washes the hair of the ‘priest/therapist’ with champagne (or beer?) out of a bottle.
As early as this, audience members who don’t care so much about ‘hair care’ synching began to leave the cinema. CHELSEA GIRLS is really NOT riveting stuff. I’m sure these unsuspecting cinema patrons felt their soul contaminated by this movie ‘inexperience’. I’m also already aware that this movie was hyped into significance. Mostly pretentious and pathetic, it remains a poorly executed series of home movies.
Soon we are watching another sequence. An overbearing, aggressive, chubby female with extremely thin lips and a nose that almost snouts, manipulates a syringe and injects a female (“Mary”?). She later injects herself through her jeans. Deluded, she is called “Duchess”. She calls her little syringed ‘victim’ “Tina Louise” (perhaps a reference to the attractive, soft-spoken actress in ‘Gilligan’s Island’).
The 4th sequence opens with 2 men lying side by side on a mattress. One man has a full head of slick, healthy, luxurious hair on a slim, smooth, hairless body, whereas the other man is the antithesis with a bald head on quite a hairy, plump body. At one point the bald man messes up the other man’s locks (hair care envy?). Two women enter the picture and tie up the man with the full head of hair and pull down his underwear. Narcotic paraphernalia is strewn around the messy ‘bed’. The scene becomes more disturbed as the young, handled man seems increasingly ‘out of it’ writhing around like he’s someone’s sick bondage pet. Soon lots of males (including Gerard Malanga) gather around, but we cannot hear the conversation as only one screen at a time is presented with sound.
Meanwhile on the other screen (with sound), the drug dealer-pusher ‘Duchess’ confides that she is evil and that she gave ‘Tina Louise’ “an OD” (overdose). She also gives some insight into Factory life; crediting “silver paper” as being “where it all started”. (Warhol used silver foil to cover the old walls of the Factory- never underestimate the power of a gimmick – something so superficial can hide an array of faults). A ‘hair-dresser’ enters the sequence (again, the ‘hair-care’ theme) and with his considerable skill, works on the chubby one’s hair, actually making the unattractive, loud-mouthed ‘duchess’ presentable (almost glamorous). Perhaps hair-care IS important. Like the gimmicky silver paper used to cover crumbling brick walls, a gimmicky glamorous hairstyle can hide an array of issues. Unfortunately, good hair can only go so far…it’s disturbing how ugly most of the characters seem underneath…even the talented Nico suffers here from an overdose of vanity and superficiality.
At this point another audience member gets up and walks out. As he passes by, I hear him curse “Indulgent shit!” and by golly, I believe he’s right.
The perverse stench continues with the 5th and 6th sequences. Shot on the same day with the same participants (wearing the same clothes), these are ‘bitches’ sequences. One pathetic masochistic soul is ‘imprisoned’ under a desk whilst other sadistic vamps look on arguing and swearing at her. This ‘Girl’s room’ feels like the ‘sleepover’ from Hell. The most attractive girl is also the most beastly. Misguided vanity put these attractive females before the camera and almost nothing is achieved. These crappy ‘home movies’ persist with trivial, trivial, most trivial trivialities! Sound remains weak and difficult to understand. Lighting remains dodgy. Not that it would make much difference, but often, Warhol is not even behind the camera as he delegates ‘directing’ duties to Paul Morrissey.
A veritable feast of sins… vanity, sloth, lust, gluttony etc…is well represented here… Warhol and/or Morrissey point a camera and shoot (a 5 year old really could do it as well) their conceptually daring capture of banalities like sex and drugs. This film is a product of perfect timing on Warhol’s part. In context to what was happening during this time, he picked the right moment to be brash, risky and shocking. One might applaud Warhol for that… but it is difficult when we never see Warhol himself shoot up heroin or stripped naked or humiliated. Something akin to a self-serving politician who sends OTHER people’s children to war (not his own), Warhol hides safely behind the camera, whilst using gullible, love-starved minions and dogsbodies to do his dirty work.
It must be admitted that this so called ‘art statement’, like many other questionable art statements, is really only a well-calculated, over-hyped, poorly constructed piece of talentless drivel created by charlatans for a gullible audience. If an artist can’t be technically proficient or aesthetically satisfying, then at least a good new idea would be something to cling onto. Unfortunately Warhola doesn’t achieve anything close to artistic integrity with this film. The idea may be considered daring, but cannot be considered a good one. Art should not qualify as such based on bad ideas.
That’s it for ‘Part 1’! Next week 6 more sequences (Part 2) and I don’t know if I should waste my time with it. Still, one must be fair, so I (grudgingly) give the whole film a chance. A completist, I feel compelled to finish this difficult thing, though I can safely say I will not be voluntarily watching CHELSEA GIRLS again in the near future.
As always, Brett Garten did a magnificent job screening this film, particularly with the added technical challenge of split screens. In probably the busiest Sydney Cinemateque session so far (A lot of disillusioned new members turned up for the rumoured titillation… the poster really does work!), we witnessed something that needed to be seen once in order to affirm any suspicions of Warhol’s lack of talent. It’s little wonder the coy weasel kept so quiet… too afraid his lack of credibility might unintentionally slip out of his mouth.
CHELSEA GIRLS (1966)
Firstly, I must mention that I should not be writing a report on a film that has already had too much hype, exposure and free advertising, but I do it (at the risk of further promoting it) to say that this curio has almost no redeeming qualities and that perhaps if every copy of this film were destroyed, the world might still manage to keep turning.
By far and away the best thing about this film is the fabulously impressive, imaginative and sexy movie poster designed by artist Alan Aldridge (who had worked with the Beatles and the Who) which offers far greater reward than Warhol’s tedious film could ever hope to. Warhol knew the movie wasn’t as good as the poster and in a rare show of humility admitted it to Aldridge. The poster design was inspired by the surrealist work of Rene Magritte and I believe the success of CHELSEA GIRLS owes almost everything to that poster. The poster got more ‘bums on seats’ than Warhol could have hoped for, but then at such a cost; imagine the massive anticlimaxes experienced by most viewers when they suddenly realize they’ve been swindled. (You can’t judge a film by its poster!!!) This is TRULY one of the greatest examples of an exploitation movie. Cheap and nasty, often out of focus, unedited, overlong, boring, ugly, incoherent, mostly insignificant subjects, no real highlights, poor sound quality…the list goes on… Stand back for a moment and you should see that Warhol’s philosophy of filmmaking must surely translate in parallel to the philosophy of Warhol’s printmaking. If so, then the true worth of his prints comes into focus…they too begin to appear unworthy and exploitative. Warhol is the ‘King Rat’ overseeing a bunch of smaller rotten rats, and all together they leave behind great mounds of rat shit.
Shot mostly at the Chelsea Hotel and The Factory, the film is an amalgamation of around a dozen sections, each approximately 35 minutes. It is customary to show these sections on 2 projectors, not only halving the time it takes to expunge the tedium, but viewers might also imagine there is twice the possibility that something interesting might happen, although keeping the eyes busy still isn’t enough to save this film.
The opening scene presents a slow-moving Nico standing around a tired, messy, kitchenette snipping away at her hair. Her hair looks impressive, but it seems to take forever to trim a few ‘bangs’. Nico would later go on to record a solo album called CHELSEA GIRL to capitalise on the movie title. (Recorded April-May 1967, Bob Dylan, Lou Reed, John Cale and others contributed greatly to Nico’s album). Apparently the Nico scene was added later in the process to replace an earlier scene featuring the enigmatic and popular Edie Sedgewick (who later actually moved in to the Chelsea Hotel) who insisted her sequence be taken out of the movie. She requested Warhol stop showing her films. The ‘team’ of Sedgewick and Warhol (blonde on blonde?) had a falling-out by late 1965. Sedgewick, perhaps justifiably, had felt over-exploited by Warhol and was considering working with Bob Dylan and his management. It seems she may have even been under some kind of contract with them whilst CHELSEA GIRLS was being made. A film called ‘AFTERNOON’ eventually surfaced with edited footage of Edie from ‘Chelsea Girls’. Charismatic Edie’s presence may have saved this sinking vessel… the footage of her should never have been taken out of this film. While Nico preening herself is of some interest for about 3 minutes, too much footage reveals that even ‘Stars’ end up in cheap dirty kitchens and lame situations.
The next sequence, partly scripted, partly ad-libbed, is the manipulative therapist (‘the-rapist’) who verbally forces himself on a sad creature called “Ingrid”. The role is something akin to a ‘priest and confessor’ in an “ex-Catholic boudoir”. Ultimately, these characters don’t hold enough interest to warrant complete focus on them for over half an hour. The split screen running 2 images simultaneously adds significantly to the watchability of this drab segment.
Regarding the ‘psychiatric couch’, a relatively new ‘invention’, I imagine Sigmund Freud got the idea from understanding the significance, outrageousness and profit potential of millions of devout Catholics (and other religious) unloading their issues in a private box, to a faceless ‘agent’ of God. Confession is an ages-old practise that seems to help sinners get things ‘off their chest’. It supposedly provides healing for the ‘soul’ with the grace and forgiveness of God. I believe modern psychiatry is closely related to confession (‘psyche’ means ‘soul’ or ‘spirit’). Psychiatry probably took confession one step further as the troubled can unload their ‘burden’ on a ‘faceless’ ear, and all the while they can even lie back on a comfy couch… this value-added innovation (providing a comfortable couch) was enough to begin charging people money for their ‘confessions’… Today, we also have TV talk shows to provide some tarted-up healing.
At one point the 2 screen images seemed to offer an ever-so-vague synch. While Nico preens her hair on one screen, Ingrid washes the hair of the ‘priest/therapist’ with champagne (or beer?) out of a bottle.
As early as this, audience members who don’t care so much about ‘hair care’ synching began to leave the cinema. CHELSEA GIRLS is really NOT riveting stuff. I’m sure these unsuspecting cinema patrons felt their soul contaminated by this movie ‘inexperience’. I’m also already aware that this movie was hyped into significance. Mostly pretentious and pathetic, it remains a poorly executed series of home movies.
Soon we are watching another sequence. An overbearing, aggressive, chubby female with extremely thin lips and a nose that almost snouts, manipulates a syringe and injects a female (“Mary”?). She later injects herself through her jeans. Deluded, she is called “Duchess”. She calls her little syringed ‘victim’ “Tina Louise” (perhaps a reference to the attractive, soft-spoken actress in ‘Gilligan’s Island’).
The 4th sequence opens with 2 men lying side by side on a mattress. One man has a full head of slick, healthy, luxurious hair on a slim, smooth, hairless body, whereas the other man is the antithesis with a bald head on quite a hairy, plump body. At one point the bald man messes up the other man’s locks (hair care envy?). Two women enter the picture and tie up the man with the full head of hair and pull down his underwear. Narcotic paraphernalia is strewn around the messy ‘bed’. The scene becomes more disturbed as the young, handled man seems increasingly ‘out of it’ writhing around like he’s someone’s sick bondage pet. Soon lots of males (including Gerard Malanga) gather around, but we cannot hear the conversation as only one screen at a time is presented with sound.
Meanwhile on the other screen (with sound), the drug dealer-pusher ‘Duchess’ confides that she is evil and that she gave ‘Tina Louise’ “an OD” (overdose). She also gives some insight into Factory life; crediting “silver paper” as being “where it all started”. (Warhol used silver foil to cover the old walls of the Factory- never underestimate the power of a gimmick – something so superficial can hide an array of faults). A ‘hair-dresser’ enters the sequence (again, the ‘hair-care’ theme) and with his considerable skill, works on the chubby one’s hair, actually making the unattractive, loud-mouthed ‘duchess’ presentable (almost glamorous). Perhaps hair-care IS important. Like the gimmicky silver paper used to cover crumbling brick walls, a gimmicky glamorous hairstyle can hide an array of issues. Unfortunately, good hair can only go so far…it’s disturbing how ugly most of the characters seem underneath…even the talented Nico suffers here from an overdose of vanity and superficiality.
At this point another audience member gets up and walks out. As he passes by, I hear him curse “Indulgent shit!” and by golly, I believe he’s right.
The perverse stench continues with the 5th and 6th sequences. Shot on the same day with the same participants (wearing the same clothes), these are ‘bitches’ sequences. One pathetic masochistic soul is ‘imprisoned’ under a desk whilst other sadistic vamps look on arguing and swearing at her. This ‘Girl’s room’ feels like the ‘sleepover’ from Hell. The most attractive girl is also the most beastly. Misguided vanity put these attractive females before the camera and almost nothing is achieved. These crappy ‘home movies’ persist with trivial, trivial, most trivial trivialities! Sound remains weak and difficult to understand. Lighting remains dodgy. Not that it would make much difference, but often, Warhol is not even behind the camera as he delegates ‘directing’ duties to Paul Morrissey.
A veritable feast of sins… vanity, sloth, lust, gluttony etc…is well represented here… Warhol and/or Morrissey point a camera and shoot (a 5 year old really could do it as well) their conceptually daring capture of banalities like sex and drugs. This film is a product of perfect timing on Warhol’s part. In context to what was happening during this time, he picked the right moment to be brash, risky and shocking. One might applaud Warhol for that… but it is difficult when we never see Warhol himself shoot up heroin or stripped naked or humiliated. Something akin to a self-serving politician who sends OTHER people’s children to war (not his own), Warhol hides safely behind the camera, whilst using gullible, love-starved minions and dogsbodies to do his dirty work.
It must be admitted that this so called ‘art statement’, like many other questionable art statements, is really only a well-calculated, over-hyped, poorly constructed piece of talentless drivel created by charlatans for a gullible audience. If an artist can’t be technically proficient or aesthetically satisfying, then at least a good new idea would be something to cling onto. Unfortunately Warhola doesn’t achieve anything close to artistic integrity with this film. The idea may be considered daring, but cannot be considered a good one. Art should not qualify as such based on bad ideas.
That’s it for ‘Part 1’! Next week 6 more sequences (Part 2) and I don’t know if I should waste my time with it. Still, one must be fair, so I (grudgingly) give the whole film a chance. A completist, I feel compelled to finish this difficult thing, though I can safely say I will not be voluntarily watching CHELSEA GIRLS again in the near future.
As always, Brett Garten did a magnificent job screening this film, particularly with the added technical challenge of split screens. In probably the busiest Sydney Cinemateque session so far (A lot of disillusioned new members turned up for the rumoured titillation… the poster really does work!), we witnessed something that needed to be seen once in order to affirm any suspicions of Warhol’s lack of talent. It’s little wonder the coy weasel kept so quiet… too afraid his lack of credibility might unintentionally slip out of his mouth.
Tuesday, 10 February 2009
Chelsea Girls ephemera
These two items were found in the film cans for Chelsea Girls...
Click to enlarge.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
