Hot Docs 2008

Winter is the coldest, darkest, sleepiest and fattest of seasons. It's the season of sweat pants and forgotten resolutions. The thrill in your day consists of rolling up a paper coffee cup rim, but never, ever, to win. You try to consume the easiest, most comforting stuff until, like some subterranean rodent, you feel it is time to poke your head up into the sky and squint into the warm sun again.

If winter had a badly written haiku it would read as follows:

Cold dark winter day
Runny nose but no tissue
I hate everything

All this is a round about way of saying that like any tired, cranky Canadian, I decided to kick my own butt (and brain) with a Werner Herzog movie night. I had a DVD (bought new and cheap!) of Fitzcarraldo. The cult classic seemed like the ticket to help me forget all the sick and miserable people shuffling around Toronto. At the end of the evening my little troubles seemed like small beans compared to madness, obsession, and toil in the jungles of the Amazon. Here's the review:

Fitzcarraldo
(Peru / West Germany, directed by Werner Herzog)

I really like Werner Herzog. His films can be somewhat insane, darkly hilarious, and sometimes brilliant. Not all his films are classic, or even very good, but some of them are so bloody great you forgive him his shortcomings. Fitzcarraldo was written and directed by Herzog. It was filmed in the Peruvian jungles and captures the sublime beauty and horrible reality of an ancient society colliding with turn of the century industry. It is the story of obsession and folly on a grand scale. It stars frequent Herzog collaborator Klaus Kinski. It has everything I love about Herzog's best films and IT WAS FANTASTIC.

Okay, so now you know where I stand. Fitzcarraldo is certainly not a light or fluffy movie, and at two and a half hours it can sometimes feel like a long slog. But the labour is so well rewarded. The immersion into the jungle, into that space and the madness that dwells there, is so complete. The unique jungle environments are a common setting for Herzog that he repeats in other films like Aguirre, the Wrath of God, and Rescue Dawn. Even compared to all his other work, Herzog rarely reaches as far, or gains as much, as he does with Fitzcarraldo.

The story of Fitzcarraldo was inspired by true events. During the turn of the 20th century, "rubber barons" in South America made huge amounts of money tapping and exporting the sap of the rubber trees. As their wealth grew, they feigned to live like European aristocracy in towns along the Amazon river. Fitzcarraldo (actually an Irish descendant named Brian Sweeney Fitzgerald), is a bankrupt railroad owner obsessed with bringing the beauty of opera to the wilds of his frontier town. With the love (and money) of his town's madame, Fitzcarraldo buys a steamboat to claim his own piece of the rubber wealth. With a largely suspect crew, Fitzcarraldo sails his boat into unfriendly territory and finally actualizes his plan to drag the steamboat out of the water and over a small mountain in order to circumvent impassable rapids.

Fitzcarraldo attempts to get a small business loan to buy a steamboat so he can drag it up a mountain and bring opera to the jungle. It's a tough sell.
The operative plot to Fitzcarraldo is so great I'm going to repeat it. With the help of a vast group of indigenous people, Fitzcarraldo builds a huge, multi leveled pulley system and drags a steamboat over a mountain. The indigenous people Fitzcarraldo finds to help him initially think he's a God. His passion is inspiring, but his methods are obviously flawed. Fitzcarraldo pays for his obsession when his allies reveal their own plans to appease the river Gods. Fitzcarraldo ends in tragic yet triumphant resolution with the hero both destroyed and redeemed by his passions.

This sort of tension cannot be good for digestion
Even with the intensity, humour and raw emotion Kinski brings to the title role, I think the real power of Fitzcarraldo is in the visuals. The central theme of man struggling with his passions in a hostile world (so important in many of Herzog's films) has never been as boldly realized as in the sight of a giant, creaking boat being hauled up over the jungle floor. The fact that this was a real boat, being pulled up a real hill, is the entire point. No CGI, no models, and no rational advice to stop trying to pull a God damned boat up a mountain could stop Herzog from filming his vision. It is there and it is real. I love that. I also love how Herzog holds a shot just long enough to become almost uncomfortable. The visuals overwhelm our normally short attention spans, just as the silence, and sounds of the jungle overwhelm any of the dialogue.

Fitzcarraldo is not the type of movie you pop into the DVD player when you want silly entertainment (although I must admit I find aspects of it pretty funny). Fitzcarraldo is the kind of movie that requires some effort to watch, but it is an engrossing story. The image of Fitzcarraldo on top of his boat, playing an opera record and being enraptured by the music while the natives follow him silently in their canoes stays in my mind. There are all sorts of messages in the movie, and all sorts of ways it may make an impression on you. I'll be happy to see Fitzcarraldo many more times in the years to come, and glean new images and impressions from this amazing film.

You should really watch Fitzcarraldo. You can find a cheap copy on DVD from the "Cult Classic Film Series" here in Canada. The packaging is red and yellow, with a distinct Grindhouse feel. I was afraid that the print might not be very good, but it was actually very clear and had quite a few bonus features.


Here's the dramatic (and German!) trailer for Fitzcarraldo.

Yma Sumac: September 13, 1922 – November 1, 2008
On November 1st, Yma Sumac passed away peacefully at the age of 86. Yma Sumac was a soprano with an amazing five octave vocal range. She embodied "exotica" in the 1950s lounge music scene with her mambo beats, big band accompaniments, and Peruvian princess persona. Yma was confident, beautiful and mysterious. Most amazingly of all, she had a voice to back up her eccentric facade. In her popular albums she would sing with operatic timbre, imitate the melody of a songbird, or offer deep throaty growls and rise to impossibly high trills all in the same song! Many people found her weird, or didn't care for her music, but everyone had to admit the woman could sing.

This song called "Bo Mambo" and it's fantastic.
In the 50s when all the cool suburbanites had tiki bars, you could bet to find an Yma Sumac album on the wifi. She was an icon of exotic tiki culture. When people started tearing out the bamboo and laying shag rugs, Yma's career faded into nostalgic camp. She was a woman of a certain time; a genuine Inca Goddess for the basement rec room. Although her music transcended pure kitch appeal, it was, at its heart, most at home during cocktail hour while you sipped something accompanied by a small, paper umbrella.

These days hipsters my own age usually no nothing of Yma Sumac, although I bet they would recognize some of her arrangements from hip hop music or movie soundtracks. If you're one of those people nuts about The Big Lebowski, you really need to look into Yma Sumac. The Coen Brothers have long used her to underscore their bizarre and trippy scenes.

Even the young Yma had a lot of sultry attitude
Like all great eccentrics, Yma was subject to gossip and popular rumours. One of the best is that she was not in fact Yma Sumac, but Amy Camus (see what they did there?), a housewife from Brooklyn New York. My own dad told me that she sang in a made up language that "sounded like Spanish". Turns out she was singing in Jivaro, an obscure native Peruvian language. I think, amazing as it sounds, that Yma Sumac actually was a descendant of ancient Peruvian Emperors. Even if she wasn't, she had the fortitude and attitude to pull it off. How often do you come across a talent or a life such as hers?

Last year in an inspired bout of procrastination I found Yma Sumac's official website, and from there found the address where I could write to her and (with a $25 money order) receive my own autographed photo. I used a card with a photo of a dog on it for my letter, because Yma liked animals. I wrote that I was a big fan, and that I have always loved her music. I thanked her for being so unique and wonderful. It was a strange thing to do, I admit. I had never written a "fan letter" before, and I'm not sure I ever will again. I just was so amazed that she was still alive, still available to read my letter and send me her photo. The beautiful photograph I received is still carefully tacked up to my bulletin board, awaiting an exotic vintage frame worthy of her image. I'm so glad I wrote to her when I had the chance. Rest in peace, Yma.

Dreams with Sharp Teeth
(USA, Directed by Erik Nelson)

Harlan Ellison is one of the touchstones that helped form my adolescent self. Growing up in the country without cable TV or computers, I somehow stumbled into an appreciation for science fiction from the 1960s, 70s and 80s. Now that I think about it, it may have been the groundbreaking TVO program "Prisioners of Gravity" that started the trend. For half an hour once a week (and this had to be watched on schedule as we were still in the days of renting the VCR), interviews with science fiction, fantasy and comic book writers were edited together to create topical discussions. There, somewhere, was Harlan Ellison. He was hilarious and cantankerous and seemed perpetually on the cusp of a massive coronary attack. He seemed to hate a lot of things, but I felt he had good reason. Eventually I found his collection "Angry Candy" and from there moved into "Again Dangerous Visions" and "The Glass Teat". His writing was really strange and foreign, but he embodied for me the perfect image of the writer - someone alive with wit and opinion. I wanted to be a writer so, I guess, in a weird way I wanted to be Harlan Ellison. Strange goal for a country girl.

Anyway, now I live in the big city and I'm very educated and sophisticated and even appreciate the complexities of wine, but part of me is always going to want to be Harlan Ellison. I still read (and reread) his work. The documentary "Dreams with Sharp Teeth" was a must see for me at this year's Hot Docs festival. There was no question. I didn't even care if the movie was bad. I just wanted to spend some time with an old hero.

Harlan in his younger days
Luckily, Dreams with Sharp Teeth was a good solid movie, even without the rambling personal history. Harlan, now 74, shares his opinions, memories, and observations in energetic staccato bursts. There are references to his past including his many romantic liaisons, a childhood as the sarcastic runt who learned how to fight, and that one time he may or may not have shoved a guy down an elevator shaft. Additional interviews with acquaintances like Robin Willaims and Neil Gaiman offer their own fascinating insights into the author's world and the tempestuous reality of being his friend. The whole film is also greatly assisted by a tour through Harlan's LA Xanadu (aptly named the Lost Aztec Temple of Mars); a home that boasts secret passageways, wall to wall bookshelves, and a room dedicated to the preservation and storage of old typewriters.

Harlan today. I'm going to guess he's mad about something.
All this is sounding a little like the gushing of a fan girl, but even if you've never heard of Harlan Ellison, I think you will enjoy this film. It is about the creative process of a very prolific writer, and it offers insight into the dedication and determination necessary to accomplish any creative goal. It is often hilarious. Even if you never read one of his books, or totally disagree with his opinions, you will appreciate that Harlan Ellison is a pretty entertaining eccentric. He's also very intelligent, and his angry cries for us to rise above mediocrity are more appropriate than ever. Segments of the film are simply Harlan reading from one of his books, and in these segments I could have done with a little less of the undulating green screen background. It makes sense, however, to couple trippy visuals with the man who created "speculative fiction" in the 1960s. And even the parts that got a little too psychedelic were then followed by verite segments like Harlan driving in congested LA traffic and calling for the deaths of all his fellow motorists.

So in the end the film made me laugh, think, and even dust off some books I hadn't picked up in a while. I was not disappointed by "Dreams with Sharp Teeth" and I felt the film did justice to one of my literary heroes. I am such a geek I will try to buy this one on DVD.

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Here's the trailer for the film. In case you're at work or something I guess I should mention that the trailer contains swearing. I know. It's hard to imagine Harlan Ellison ever uttering a disagreeable word but there it is.