"For about 10 to 15 seconds man, I just stared at somebody's shit, man. To be totally honest with you, man, it was a really, really profound moment. 'Cuz I was thinkin', 'I'm 30 years old, and in about 10 seconds I gotta start cleaning up somebody's shit, man'."
-Uh...
Mark: "This thing is turning into a theatrical mockery. Do you know what that means?"
Mike (either stoned, or just camera shy, it's hard to tell): "No." (trademark nervous laugh)
Mark: "Well, you will."
"I don't know what other people are thinking and I don't care. I'm after my American Dream and I'm starting to live it."
-Mark, in an interview with The Independent
"Not only does it offer a worthwhile portrait of an individual who embodies aspirations and desires that we can all identify with, but it shows him doing something about them. American Movie may seem to be about filmmaking (and, to a degree, it is), but it's actually much more about the man behind the camera, and all that he represents."
-James Berardinell, ReelViews
"His honorable intentions notwithstanding, Smith has preempted Borchardt's cherished Northwestern by packaging it as American Movie. With a passive-aggressiveness worthy of Warhol, he has used the camera to exacerbate a relationship of unequal power. [...] Although I don't begrudge Borchardt his year of fame, what he doesn't seem to understand about his exploitation creeps me out."
-Amy Taubin, VillageVoice.com
"American Movie," a documentary made by independent filmmaker Chris Smith, is not something for the faint of heart. It is an unrelenting look at what has been touted for generations as the American Dream, and what one man will do to achieve it. A chronicle of one "burnout" filmmaker Mark Borchardt and his three-year quest to get his horror film "Coven" off the ground, it has become a cult favorite since its debut in 1999.
At first, it sounds like a "making of the movie" movie. And, from my experience, there's never anything more clinical, detached, and outright boring than a show--much less a movie--about the "making of" anything. You can show us a segment or documentary on the making of light bulbs, or the making of cupcakes, or even the making of the video, but there's a reason why people still watch the Jersey Shore (warped as it may be) instead of that. If there's one thing you need in a movie, it's character. If there's another thing you need in a movie, it's also character. And if there's another thing on top of that...
Unfortunately, the first thing I thought while watching "American Movie" was that Mark, his brain-dead buddy Mike, his uncle/producer/rich relative, and everyone else in the movie were just that, characters in a movie. There's something unintentionally "off" with the people we spend two and a half hours with (was it that long? I can't even remember). It felt like there was a sense of mean-spiritedness, the sense that Mark and his efforts were all supposed to be some kind of joke, which is a wide discrepancy from the rave, heartfelt reviews I've read from others. (Though I remember one of my peers on IMDb acknowledging a sense of "voyeurism" in watching Mark's hijinks, God forbid.)
We get a first look at our star, with his long, gangly hair and glasses that wouldn't look out of place on a paedophile (in other words, your typical guy from the 90's), with his fellow co-stars (and partners in crime) on the set of "Coven" constantly noting his "feral," "elemental" take on filmmaking. Then, we cut to his brother, sitting on a porch and living in a world comfortably far away from Mark, as he remarks, "I thought he would become a serial killer."
So, yeah, our focal character is a budding serial killer.
Mark's best friend is the perpetually-stoned Mike Schank, who seems to be the heart of the movie. Where Mark is apparently an elemental and unchecked cinematographer to be reckoned with, Mike is one of the few guys I've seen in my lifetime who could play a convincing teddy bear, with his harmless, down-to-earth demeanor and his falsetto, almost uncertain tone. His mind apparently ravaged by one too many acid trips and drunk nights out, and possibly unsure of where he even is at the moment, one can still sense the rapport between Mark and his old buddy Mike, who supports him in whatever he does.
Financing "Coven" is Mark's uncle Bill (who, as of today, is still probably wanting his fifty thousand dollars back). Many scenes focus on Mark's interactions with his weathered old relative, who rarely leaves his trailer and whose contributions to the conversation often consist of...well, it's either vague yet insightful pieces of wisdom from an admittedly feeble man whose strength only allows him to speak when necessary, thus making him a man of few yet powerful words which become clear only upon further contemplation...or he has no clue what he's doing, who this "nephew" of his is, or why he keeps calling him the "producer" and promising to get his money back. (I should just keep a notebook of whatever he says the next time I see it.)
I would agree with criticisms that the film went on for a bit too long. Granted, even a twenty-minute independent movie such as "Coven" could warrant a wellspring of "extra features" such as the three-hour documentary we end up with. However, there are several scenes that simply drag on and on, and oddly enough, I remember at least two or three of those scenes focusing on his home life. As always, it's nice to get a look at the life of a filmmaker outside of his filmmaking, but after a while, one starts feeling like a guest who can't seem to find a polite way to leave, almost as if we're intruding on someone's home life and spending a weekend with "relatives" we've never met before. (Perhaps "voyeurism" is the right word...)
So, as much as it might go against my religion or beliefs in character, character, character, the strongest scenes seem to tie in to the "on-the-scenes" work with "Coven," as well as his constant editing, the sound work, splicing in scenes. However, even these scenes seem to just drag on after a while. Granted, it's a documentary, so one can't exactly expect the climax to just hit you and leave you on the edge of your seat, but there is still a lot of the after-shooting moments which could have been left out altogether without ruining the film.
Highlights include the constant reshoots of one of the actors getting rammed into a kitchen cabinet, as well as Mike's "say no to drugs" speech, and some relatively heartfelt scenes with Mark and his daughters. One special mention must go to a moment near(-ish) the end where Mark spends the night going over the strips of film. While the movie in general has a lot of ending fatigue and just seems to drag on after about the five-hour mark, this scene in question was a relatively subdued reminder that, yes, filmmaking can be dull, time-consuming, and just plain difficult at times.
With documentaries such as this one, you can't really just say what kind of movie it's supposed to be. Ultimately, it's a movie about some guys making a movie. But is it also a tale of a man overcoming all odds, including his sheer lack of financing, crew, talent, and vision as a moviemaker, and a commentary on the social strata separating the "haves" from the "have-nots" such as Mark and his family? Or is it just an exercise in passive-aggressive voyeurism, and a look into the world of a man clearly out of his depth?
I can't tell you that. But if you do plan on seeing this movie, you should be prepared to answer such questions.
Note: The Brewsky is an enthusiastic contributor and movie reviewer. And it's that last one.
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