If I told you that a version of Anthony Burgess A Clockwork Orange was filmed six years prior to the release of the Stanley Kubrick masterpiece in 1971, would you be interested in seeing it? I’ll further whet your whistle. The project was helmed by none other than pop artist and iconoclast Andy Warhol. You might think that such a film would be well-known and much discussed by even casual movie fans, but this isn’t the case. Such a film does exist, and it is with good reason that it goes largely unheard of by even some of the most ardent movie fanatics. The picture is Vinyl (1965), and it’s one of those films that, I assume, made the 1001 cut on weird credibility and name recognition alone.
Warhol shot two, almost unedited, B&W reels in his New York “Factory” based on the premise adaptation by collaborator Ronald Tavel. The 70-minute piece includes some basic elements of the original story, but Warhol’s choice of a single location (in which all of the characters exist simultaneously) and only two angles limit this film’s potential greatly. Though it contains some interesting moments, on the whole it feels like a video shot for a 7th grade class project, plus a little homosexual torture.
Juvenile delinquent Victor (Gerard Malanga) seeks out violence. He is betrayed by an accomplice of many of his crimes and punished in kind by the police. He is “reeducated” through a process of repeated projection of disturbing images and sadomasochism so that he can become a productive member of society. Some of this synopsis I got from the 1001 text and other bits I remembered from the Kubrick telling of this story. Had I not seen that film, I firmly believe that I would have never intuited a single plot point from Vinyl.
The images are murky and the directing is intentionally flat, making this a difficult watch. For most of the picture the only thing that can be made out clearly are the more devious moments of torture, such as the pouring of hot wax onto Malanga’s bare chest. I suppose it’s also clear when, occasionally, various members of the cast stop whatever their doing to dance (badly) to “Nowhere to Run to” by Martha and the Vandellas.
I also have a little bone to pick with this film’s write-up in the 1001 book. Usually, I try to avoid addressing these short pieces, because they are to act as points of departure as opposed to direct study. However, I’ll make an exception in this case. The author, whose name I’ll leave out of this, is credited in the text as a lecturer on “queer theory and experimental film.” By that description, I’d say that the editors chose a worthy candidate to write on Vinyl (as well as Flaming Creatures; 1963, #125), but this piece is poorly researched and feels as though it pushes the sexual politics of Vinyl more than the film itself.
I hope that my comments here are not misconstrued as homophobia. I support each individual’s right to happiness in a consensual and legal-aged sexual relationship. I simply feel that descriptions of actors as “deliciously wooden” takes away from the piece’s credibility. I suppose it’s probable that any number of the write-ups contained within the text include an equally graphic description of a female cast member. If the author of this review intended to invoke irony by turning the tables and subtly repurposing elements of feminist film theory (which takes things way too far in the first place) then I can appreciate such reference and tip my cap, but I don’t get that impression. Also, what self-respecting writer on “queer theory” would mistakenly credit “Nowhere to Run to” to gay icons The Supremes?
 |
| Warhol, Sedgwick, and Chuck Wein, 1965 |
The author does however get one thing right in noting the spellbinding presence of Edie Sedgwick, silently positioned screen right for most of the film. She’s recognized as an “extra” by Warhol’s off screen shouting in the middle of the film, the closest thing this drivel has to a credit sequence. But anyone with two eyes in their head can see that she’s the star.
I suppose any one person’s enjoyment of this piece would be directly linked to their feelings about Warhol and most of his art. I can really take it or leave it to be honest, but I’d like to think that I understand what he was trying to do with his work. He wanted to take the ordinary and make it beautiful in order to alter what those conventions meant to people. He succeeded wildly in some areas, and failed in others. He “produced” the rock group The Velvet Underground’s breakthrough Album, eventually redefining what music was, but in this case he should have just stuck with the soup cans.
Language: English
Runtime: 70 Minutes
Available @ Youtube.com
Grade: .5 Hats Off
0 comments:
Post a Comment