Gummo Review
by Alex Fung (aw220 AT FreeNet DOT Carleton DOT CA)October 14th, 1997
GUMMO (Fine Line - 1997)
Starring Jacob Reynolds, Nick Sutton, Jacob Sewell, Darby Doughtery, Chloe Sevigny, Carisa Bara, Linda Manz, Max Perlich
Screenplay by Harmony Korine
Produced by Cary Woods
Directed by Harmony Korine
Running time: 88 minutes
** (out of four stars)
Alternate Rating: C
Note: Some may consider portions of the following text to be spoilers. Be forewarned.
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Along with Antonia Bird's PRIEST, the film which stirred up the most controversy in 1995 was undoubtedly Larry Clark's KIDS, an
unflinching portrayal of youth alienation which rocked the
establishment and provoked much heated debate on whether the film was an important social commentary on the state of youth in America (publications no less than the New York Times screamed "A wake-up call to the world!"), or merely an exploitative, sensationalistic piece of work. KIDS, originally a Miramax release (which by that time had been acquired by the Walt Disney Corporation), stirred up so much trouble for its parent company that upon receiving the dreaded NC-17 rating from the MPAA, a one-shot spinoff distribution arm, Excalibur Films, was created by Disney solely for the unrated domestic release of the film.
While the film was helmed by photographer Larry Clark, the vision for KIDS was that of Harmony Korine, who wrote the screenplay for the film while still in his teens. Mr. Korine, now 23, makes his return with his feature film directorial debut of GUMMO, an indulgent, highly experimental piece of work once again centered around
disaffected, lower-class youth in America.
Mr. Korine has proclaimed that film is the ultimate collage artform, and his adherence to this sensibility is in clear evidence in GUMMO; the film lacks any sort of conventional narrative structure, and is instead a virtual kaleidoscope of varying images and sequences. Without a central viewpoint, GUMMO is essentially a mishmash of outrageous material which is clearly intended to shock and provoke its audience.
As far as one can piece together, GUMMO is set in Xenia, Ohio, a conservative town devastated by a 1974 tornado -- this is alluded to in the film by some grainy handheld, presumably amateur footage of the storm in action which bookends GUMMO -- which is depicted as an amoral, impoverished, low-class neighbourhood perhaps only a tiny step or two above trailer park territory. Parental guidance and authority figures are ineffectual, misguided, or altogether absent, and the youth of the town are essentially given free rein to do as they please. The film introduces the audience to the repellent yet oddly compelling daily activities of various adolescents one would typically make conscious efforts to avoid in reality, and while GUMMO plays out as a series of generally unconnected vignettes, three groups of recurring characters come to the forefront of the film: three bleached blond sisters Dot (Chloe Sevigny, who also acts as the film's costume designer), Helen (Carisa Bara), and Darby (non-actor Darby Dougherty), who aimlessly kill time with such bizarre exercises (which presumably aspire to be titilative) as attempting to enhance their areolae through repeated applications of electrical tape onto their breasts; a strange, aphonic skateboarder called Bunny Boy (non-actor Jacob Sewell) who suitably sports a headpiece sprouting rabbit ears and lingers on the outskirts of the action; and Solomon (Jacob Reynolds, genuinely frightening-looking) and Tummler
(non-actor and reforming paint sniffer Nick Sutton), two nightmarish boys who prowl around on their bicycles like latter-day dementedly twisted versions of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, in search of stray cats to kill and sell to the local butcher in exchange for solvents to inhale or money to give to Cole (Max Perlich), a local who pimps his retarded sister out of his suburban home.
An early scene in GUMMO perfectly encapsulates the film's aesthetic. The vignette introduces Bunny Boy lingering at a fenced highway overpass: with his giant set of pink bunny ears and his blank, youthful appearance, he seems very much like an innocent cypher, an anomalous presence amongst the bleak, drab concrete backdrop. Suddenly, in an unprovoked paroxysm which is in part startling and admittedly bemusing in its audacity, we see him in turn spitting onto passing automobiles, violently kicking at the protective fencing in a bout of primal destructiveness, urinating from the overpass onto the highway below, and dangling precociously from the overhead fencing.
Mr. Korine's GUMMO is evidently a reactionary piece against the conforms of traditional filmmaking technique. While the film defies a conventional narrative and generally lacks a central frame of reference, it also dares to combine 35mm, video, and Super 8 footage and Polaroid photographs in its visuals, and its sound mix is pushed up to a point where the film occasionally becomes physically painful to listen to: a prolonged sequence where two preteen boys are screaming a bevy of astonishing worldly profanities at a prone, "dead" Bunny Boy is almost unbearably uncomfortable to endure.
In attendance with his film at the 1997 Venice International Film Festival, Mr. Korine caused a stir when he proclaimed that he hated actors only to reverse himself minutes later: "Never mind, I like actors." A few days later, at the 1997 Toronto International Film Festival, he apparently changed his mind again, asserting "I hate actors." Whatever his sentiment towards professional actors may be, Mr. Korine's use of amateur actors and his childhood friends in GUMMO is occasionally effective in capturing the aura of authenticity the film generally strives for, but all too often his performers appear exceedingly conscious of the camera during inopportune naturalistic moments, and tend to focus their performances towards showmanship. The ability to improvise can be a difficult task even for seasoned actors, and for the most part the non-professionals are woefully inept when called upon for spontaneity; Mr. Korine himself is a chief offender in a terribly awkward scene which arbitrarily results in him pouring a bottle of beer upon himself.
While there can be no doubting that GUMMO profiles a stunning collection of deviant characters -- indeed, there are no customary 'normal' characters to be found -- and features outrageous acts of casual violence and depravity which are sure to offend some (cat lovers beware), the film is sporadically raucously funny and never becomes dull. The sheer temerity in the behaviour of those depicted in GUMMO is often hysterical -- a particularly memorable moment is when a group of men take leisure in beating the hell out of a metal chair -- but it is all too clear that we are meant to gawk at, not empathise with, the characters in the film.
Given GUMMO's distinct lack of commercial elements and its inherently controversial, vaguely disturbing nature, some may end up wondering why Cary Woods and Fine Line commissioned the film, even at its reportedly modest budget of $1 million. The answer would seem to be: Harmony Korine, who remains a much-coveted property as a
screenwriter, with two projects already on tap. While $1 million may eventually prove to be a small price to pay to establish a long-term relationship with a talent like Mr. Korine, one would have to conclude that it's unlikely that another similarly indulgent film would be condoned in the future.
- Alex Fung
email: [email protected]
web : http://www.ncf.carleton.ca/~aw220/
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Alex Fung ([email protected]) | http://www.ncf.carleton.ca/~aw220/ "The separate forms of social behaviour that we associate with film and television are also starting to break down..." - Jonathan Rosenbaum, 1979
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