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.
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