Sometimes Things Need To Be Reset: The Comedy (2012)

When I warn people about films being abrasive and controversial to the point of having moments that are downright unwatchable, it is usually a result of some sort of graphic depiction of sexual violence, as is the case with almost all of Salo; Or the 120 Days of Sodom, or it is due to their sheer disregard for political correctness in the name of a larger statement on art and middle American values, as certainly occurs within Harmony Korine's Gummo.  Yet what one receives when viewing last years The Comedy, a film starring Tim Heidecker of Tim and Eric fame, is a film that is equally abrasive in its visual offerings, as well as main character, without the sort of artistic detachment or political statements of the aforementioned films, and before you continue reading this post, I want to make it absolutely clear that my noting of this films off-putting and disconcerting elements are not a sign of a critique in any way on my part, in fact, I absolutely become mesmerized with The Comedy.  Of course, the title is decidedly deceptive and will surely prove to be an unwanted encounter for many people on Netflix who see the title and expect an outright hilarious film.  Instead, under the brilliant directorial vision of Rick Alverson, viewers are provided with an indie work that throws caution to the wind in deconstructing exactly how disconnected a privileged white yuppie finds themselves, particularly in the face of real world oppression and suffering.  The title is more than apt for a film that is rather sparse on comedic moments, although some of Heidecker's improvisation is glorious, in that it takes comedy in much the same sense that Shakespeare did, allowing it to simply depict the absurdity of certain detached groups existences, complete with all their frivolous absurdity.  Of course, The Comedy clearly lands on the side of condemnation, but that is not to say that it is not aware of the possibility of realization, especially within regards to the main character, whose movement between a world of PBR-fueled awkward sexual encounters to a very real understanding of the facts of death, allow for a narrative of the most minor of advances towards maturity, yet in the way of this biting film, viewers are left asking the question of whether or not such an inconsequential change allows for a avenue of forgiveness for the truly degrading behavior enacted upon others by the privileged bodies that occupy the filmic space.

The Comedy focuses nearly entirely on the experiences of Swanson (Tim Heidecker) a well-to-do kid whose money seems to be very much tied to the financial success of an ailing father.  His wealth allows him to circle himself with other trust fund kids who spend their days guzzling a bizarre combination PBR and high-end bourbon, while spouting off terrible sex based jokes, or diatribe against the system that seems to support those with little.  Swanson in particular, seems set on making persons exist within an awkward state as a means to find some sort of validation for his malaise fueled existence, whether this involves invading the work of immigrant landscapers, or suggesting that Adolf Hitler might not have been a terrible guy had his ideas properly panned out.  It is clear that even through all this, Swanson possesses a crippling sense of loneliness, often exiling himself to trips on his boat, or going to an "urban" club by himself in search of sex, with persons of a particular racial background.  It never appears that Swanson has any direction to his actions, at one point taking a job as a dishwasher, simply because he happens to be in the area at the moment and applies for the position, much to the confusion of the employer.  It is not until he pays a cab driver an absurd amount of money simply to drive his cab that things become problematic, especially when he refuses to respect the drivers request of calm and normal driving when he makes cat calls at a girl he passes.  This less than close run in with trouble seems to do little to change Swanson, in fact, when he goes out with a waitress on his boat, he sits curiously indifferent when after taking a combination of drugs and alcohol she begins having convulsions.  The closing scenes of the film involve Swanson apparently going on a biking purge, only to follow this by more absurd drinking and viewing of old photographs and porn with his buddies.  Yet,  the closing moments of the film show Swanson playing at the beach, happily welcoming a young boy into a game of innocent splashing, suggesting a longing for childhood, although his simplistic movement through the world certainly implies that this desire is already a reality.

The beauty of the film The Comedy is that it manages to use the genre of pretentious hipster mumblecorp (in this case negative, although they can be good) film to completely reject the sort of disillusion relating to the struggles of rich white kids trying to justify their lives.  This can be horribly delivered and fall short as happens in The Pleasure of Being Robbed, or work when the conventions are undercut in the closing sequences of Entrance.  The Comedy is decidedly on the side of undercutting, but there is no degree of suggestion that this could be redemptive, the PBR-infused inquiries into the questions of life that do indeed exist in so many of these films come crashing down when Swanson uses such moments to push people away from one another, most notably himself, and viewing this occur within The Comedy made me realize that it often occurs in a variety of mumblecorp films through the "look how much smarter" I am moments, again Heidecker just blows it absolutely out of proportion.  Similarly these films often take for granted the characters abilities to move through their landscapes, even if completely desolate, at least this is very much the case for Swanson and his other pals, who use cabs unapologetically, and demand that the cab drivers provide them with their every request, or they will flat out refuse to tip them as a result.  It is an element of the "struggling yuppie" that they often ignore their ability to move freely away from their problems, or better yet mask them with drugs and booze, hell, Swanson's boat is the ultimate form of excessive escapism.  Another tragedy lies in the characters of such films working in dead end jobs while assumedly aspiring to do something else, with little gratitude for the value of employment, particularly in the abysmal economy wherein many of these films were produce.  Swanson, again, takes a job just for the hell of it, never really considering that the work could mean the livelihood to another individual.  Of course, the most intense and baffling scene occurs in a church and sort of proves the centrifuge for the downfall Swanson experiences in the second half of the film.

Key Scene:  The shuffle sequence in the church will have you in awe, I felt my mouth dropping in confusion and awe, both moved and disturbed simultaneously.

This is a recent addition to Netflix Watch Instant and should be viewed before it disappears for one reason or another.

I Want My First Time To Be With Someone I Don't Love: Fat Girl (2001)

I was fully aware that by focusing on women in film for the entire month of March that not every single film I encountered would exist within the realm of the uplifting narrative, in fact, I will be admittedly more surprised to find films that are outright positive when handling such subject matter, especially considering the very nature of oppression and othering that exists within cinema concerning women and/or the female body.  However, Fat Girl takes intensity to another level.  I had been warned by a friend years ago about Fat Girl being a "brutal" film, much in the same way that say, Steve McQueen's Hunger is a brutal film, or Michael Haneke's...well pretty much anything is brutal.  That is to say that these works exist not to allow a viewer any sort of relational comfort or cinematic tradition to cling onto throughout the narrative.  Fat Girl, like the other films noted, exists to provoke, enrage and question all who view it, right down to the very nature with which one expects actions to occur within cinema, but, perhaps most importantly, to relate and manage the assumptions about what bodies are appropriate for occupying the spaces of film.  Fat Girl makes no apologies about its context and commentaries, absolutely, demanding viewers to accept that nothing shown is meant to be heartfelt or endearing, but instead blatantly terrible and factually unfortunate.  Clocking in at just over 80 minutes, to call this film a slow burn would be to overlook the very precise provocative scenes within the film, each intended to deconstruct romantic traditionalism, particularly one scene which shot with a stagnant camera comprises roughly a fourth of the considerably brief film.  It is as though the moment is a purposeful homage to Godard's Breathless, in which, gender politics unfold over a similarly lengthy bedroom scene, yet, in the hands of shock director Catherine Breillat, the scene does not possess even an ounce of the possible gender subversion of the French New Wave classic, instead it affirms all the truths and tragedies that manage to prove the completely illogical ideology of some theorists that society exists in a world where feminist discourse and politics are redundant and irrelevant, as Fat Girl shows, this is decidedly and absolutely not the case.

Fat Girl, titled A ma souer!, or To My Sister! in its original French translation, focuses on the experiences of two young, relatively well-to-do children on vacation to the French seaside.  Anaïs Pingot (Anaïs Reboux) is a obese young girl of twelve who is clearly the proverbial black sheep within her family, compared to her ethereal and sprite-like sister of fifteen Elena (Roxane Mesquida).  Realizing that Anaïs rather flippant attitude and less fortunate looks will cause individuals to take pause when approaching Elena, the parents demand that they always spend time together, mostly as a ruse to assure that Elena, whose promiscuity is openly acknowledged, avoids any engagements that might tarnish their family name.  Elena, of course, takes this assumption and runs with it, simply ignoring the presence of Anaïs when possible, even going so far as to push her out of the way when she is approached by an Italian tourist named Fernando (Libero De Rienzo), instead; swooping in to become the object of his affection.  A scene the displays Anaïs moving back and forth between the swimming pool pretending two polls are different lovers that she is entangled with in a fiery affair.  This unusual scene is followed by Elena and Anaïs getting ready for bed, where Elena explains that no matter what happens that night, she must ignore it and be quiet so much so, that when Fernando shows up attempting to have intercourse with Elena, only succeeding in anal sex, Anaïs is forced to deal with the very loud aftermath of the acts, condemning them both the following morning.  Yet, given the guidelines of their parents, the two must hangout together, this time with the presence of Fernando who is still attempting to win over Elena.  While Anaïs lays on the beach defeated, Fernando proposes to Elena, which, in turn, causes her to agree to having intercourse with him, an act that is shot from an angle to display Anaïs crying the entire time. Fernando's mother then comes to the Pingot beach house demanding that Elena return a valuable ring, which leads to a revelation about what has occurred between her and Fernando.  Frustrated the girls mother demands that they return home, even if it means a non-stop drive on a deathly busy and occupied French highway.  Exhausted their mother decides to pull into a rest stop, leading to the, extremely intense, closing sequence of the film, that defies logic, but, ultimately, undermines the larger filmic metaphor.

I was surprised to find out that a heavy amount of male support has been directed towards this film, particularly from a sect of French male filmmakers known in the past for their misogyny.  A heavy amount of the disdain is a result of issues with the manner in which Anaïs affirms an event the ends the film, a rape to be specific and spoil the ending, some suggest it results in a degree of victim blaming, yet I cannot help but think that it speaks to the larger issue of character ignoring narratively.  The title Fat Girl, as Breillat suggests in an essay that came along with the Criterion release, was her original choice and only changed it, in order, to help actress Anaïs Reboux be at ease with exactly why she was cast in her role.  The fact that Anaïs speaks out at the end seems heavily a call to attention and her denial is a larger metaphor for the denial that is very much placed of non-traditional bodies within media.  It is simple to assume that nothing happened to her, because society says she does not fit the traditional norms of beauty, therefore, is not the normal victim within the context of such a rhetoric, one would be quicker to assume that such actions would happen to Elena than to Anaïs.  Of course, since the final moment is necessarily and inextricably tied to sex, viewers are left to take Anaïs word on the entire event, as the way in which acts are shot, we are only shown faces.  It is possible that given the lies she heard earlier spouted by the sex-craving Fernando that she may not have indeed believed herself to be a victim of certain sexual violence.  Since she only knows sex as defined by films and by the lies spouted by sex crazed teens she may have been raped in a non-vaginal manner, still rape, but not within the limited vocabulary of Anaïs young mind.  It is audacious to think that a misogynistic group would embrace such a film, because it is very much about the very real woes and problems of male based oppression emotionally, mentally and especially physically.  Like the small family car weaving through the unrelenting trucks on the highway, Anaïs, and to some degree Elena, find themselves navigating a treacherous, unyielding world of larger, dangerously oppressive objects.

Key Scene:  While the film is all visually intense, the car ride is so heightened in tension that when it ends you assume the worst to be over, however, it is far from the case.

This is a visually audacious film that cannot really be explained verbally, what I can say, however, is that it is deserved of a bluray purchase without hesitation.