There are only a few functioning repertory theaters in NYC,
but each one serves a specific purpose in terms of its programming and the
audience it attracts. The forte of the programmers at the Anthology Film Archives is presenting retrospectives of filmmakers who have “fallen through
the cracks” of film history and whose work won’t likely be slated for DVD
release any time soon.
Some of these retrospectives receive press attention, others do not — for example, the Marcel Hanoun festival is now a distant memory. A recent five-program festival of the work of filmmaker Curt McDowell (18 out of his 27 films) did receive press coverage. It was linked to a gallery exhibit at Participant Inc on Houston Street called “THINGS: a queer legacy of graphic art and play” (which included several paintings by McDowell) and was co-presented by MIX NYC and the Academy Film Archive.
A blogger at Strublog has already done a great job of placing McDowell’s films in their context in the gay press, but I wanted to directly discuss the films themselves — McDowell’s style, his experiments in genre, the best (and not-so-best) films, and his particular niche in the underground film world. Two of the special subgenres he pioneered are incredibly absorbing and transformative — the first is his “diary” films about his sex life; the other is his brilliantly funny "mini-musicals," which were, for this reviewer, the best part of the AFA retrospective.
Some of these retrospectives receive press attention, others do not — for example, the Marcel Hanoun festival is now a distant memory. A recent five-program festival of the work of filmmaker Curt McDowell (18 out of his 27 films) did receive press coverage. It was linked to a gallery exhibit at Participant Inc on Houston Street called “THINGS: a queer legacy of graphic art and play” (which included several paintings by McDowell) and was co-presented by MIX NYC and the Academy Film Archive.
A blogger at Strublog has already done a great job of placing McDowell’s films in their context in the gay press, but I wanted to directly discuss the films themselves — McDowell’s style, his experiments in genre, the best (and not-so-best) films, and his particular niche in the underground film world. Two of the special subgenres he pioneered are incredibly absorbing and transformative — the first is his “diary” films about his sex life; the other is his brilliantly funny "mini-musicals," which were, for this reviewer, the best part of the AFA retrospective.
"Beaver Fever" (1974) |
The reason the Anthology series was so invaluable to those of us who love Thundercrack! is that McDowell’s films have been so difficult to see for so long. Curiously, the institution we can thank for nearly all of the restorations in the festival is the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences — the Oscars may consistently reward the work of tediously conventional moviemakers, but the Academy’s restoration efforts are clearly a lot more open-minded.
"Loads" (1980) |
The film is definitely art, but it also contains hardcore porn imagery. McDowell gives blow jobs to his subjects and is left at points with jizz in his mustache (this is not a filmmaker who chose to hide behind his camera). In “Loads” and “Ronnie” (1972), a short that seems to be an outtake from the former film, it is spelled out that he paid the men for their time and is quite unabashed about wanting to keep the memories of their encounters fresh by chronicling the sex they had.
"Ronnie" (1972) |
While some of the lengthier films have shifts in tone that are jarring, McDowell’s shorts (30 minutes and under) are mostly sublime. One particularly odd format he forged with a friend is represented by two shorts ("A Visit to Indiana," 1970; "Truth for Ruth," 1972) that present 8mm footage with an “audio commentary” of a sort. This commentary consists of Curt discussing what is in the footage (his relatives in Indiana, a woman walking on a beach), while Ted Davis, an eager fellow with a deeper voice and a cavalier, all-American, attitude keeps commenting on what Curt has just said. The juxtaposition is smart and very funny, since it was seemingly meant to put the filmmaker on the defensive and make the interrogator the "auteur" of the project.
"Confessions" (1971) |
Poster for "Peed Into the Wind" (1972) |
Mick regrets his decision to “play” queer when he finds out
that the girl he loved (sorta) has died. She in fact left him one of her legs
as a memento (McDowell’s sense of humor is very much in line with the Kuchars
and John Waters).
His last few films, all of them longer, are his most ambitious (for one he even got a grant from the NEA). Thundercrack! is by all measures the best and most audience-pleasing (again, if the audience has a very open mind), but the other two films are equally “epic” for an undergrounder. Chronologically, Sparkle’s Tavern comes after Thundercrack! because it was shot in 1976; McDowell ran out of money to complete it, so it remained unedited and unreleased until the mid-Eighties. The rarest of the films in the Anthology festival (since it exists in only one circulating 16mm print), it is also the biggest mixed bag — comedy and drama, good performances and terrible ones, fantasy scenes taking place in dreamlike spaces and location-shot sequences that are time capsules.
His last few films, all of them longer, are his most ambitious (for one he even got a grant from the NEA). Thundercrack! is by all measures the best and most audience-pleasing (again, if the audience has a very open mind), but the other two films are equally “epic” for an undergrounder. Chronologically, Sparkle’s Tavern comes after Thundercrack! because it was shot in 1976; McDowell ran out of money to complete it, so it remained unedited and unreleased until the mid-Eighties. The rarest of the films in the Anthology festival (since it exists in only one circulating 16mm print), it is also the biggest mixed bag — comedy and drama, good performances and terrible ones, fantasy scenes taking place in dreamlike spaces and location-shot sequences that are time capsules.
Poster for Sparkle's Tavern |
Sparkle’s Tavern is incredibly ambitious for a micro-budgeted feature. The character of Beth Sue/Sparkle has two suitors (one of whom has his own plot strand, while another is a nerdy Greek chorus who serves very little purpose in the film but takes up a lot of screen time). There is also a “mystery” cowboy figure who delivers a dramatic monologue near the center of the film — it’s a jarring inclusion, since McDowell’s most effective moments of drama in his other films are his own “confessions.”
Also jarring is the fact that the film starts out on a very funny lurid level and then its sexual content tapers off, in favor of metaphorically sexual moments. For example, one of the best “inventions” in the early nightclub/brothel sequences are sleazy little cubicles called “suck stalls” in which the hostesses give blow jobs to men they never see through glory holes — allowing Buster to substitute for one of them on occasion.
Maron Eaton, Sparkle's Tavern |
George Kuchar in Sparkle's Tavern |
George played romantic leads in his own films and in those of his brother Mike, but McDowell gave him the “hero” roles he always wanted. He was always a compulsively watchable performer (the reason his meandering “weather diaries” are so entertaining). Camp is balanced with sincerity every time George is onscreen, and he truly was the standout performer in all of the McDowell films shown in the retro (Eaton and the very attractive and intense Ainslie Pryor were close seconds).
Melinda McDowell Milks spoke after the screening of Sparkle, discussing the ways in which the plot points that involved parental acceptance of sexual behavior were indeed a sort of wish fulfillment on Curt’s part — his parents knew he was gay and accepted his lifestyle, but did not want to talk to people in their Indiana hometown about Curt's sexuality.
She also discussed the making of the film, revealing that
all the sets — which included the nightclub, some very detailed and realistic
bedrooms, and a kitchen — were constructed by Curt and friends in the nine
months in which Curt and Melinda lived in the bathroom/kitchen-less space in
which the film was shot (the same space in which “Loads” was filmed).
The other longer work, Taboo (the Single and the LP) (1981), is the most feverish of McDowell’s films. He juggles several “strands,” all of them centered around sentences of graffiti on a wall. The film is rife with flashcuts and quick swerves, between characters, situations, and a real-life portrait of one of Curt’s friends (who recounts his sex life with his girlfriend, at the filmmaker’s request).
*****
The other longer work, Taboo (the Single and the LP) (1981), is the most feverish of McDowell’s films. He juggles several “strands,” all of them centered around sentences of graffiti on a wall. The film is rife with flashcuts and quick swerves, between characters, situations, and a real-life portrait of one of Curt’s friends (who recounts his sex life with his girlfriend, at the filmmaker’s request).
*****
It’s no surprise then that the most entertaining films included in the retro were his “mini-musical” shorts. The films are actually operettas, with the characters singing their dialogue or speaking rhyming text. The “handmade” aspect of these films comes across in the fact that Curt’s friends couldn’t really carry a tune (except for Ainslie Pryor, who is seen here singing on TV several years later). The singing was also done live on-set, accompanied by what sounds like a piano being played out of frame.
Ainslie Pryor in "Boggy Depot" (1973) |
"A Night with Gilda Peck” (also ’73) is a deranged meller in which a criminal (George Kuchar) breaks into the house of a haughty (and extremely tacky) woman (the actress billed as “Mrs. Kathleen Hohalek”) in an attempt to rape and rob her, with musical merriment ensuing when all the characters enter her bedroom and feud among themselves while singing.
The poster for "Weiners and Buns Musical" |
“Weiners and Buns Musical” (1972) was the piece de resistance of the musicals in the retrospective (which will, according to the Anthology programmers, conclude later in the year). Absolute camp perfection, the film finds a housewife (a very prim Ainslie Pryor) and her businessman husband (a quite debonair, made-up George Kuchar), singing about the death of their young son and cheating on each other with the same man, a sailor (Curt, in his swabby finest).
Over a dinner of the titular comestibles the three leads decide to continue their affairs as a threesome — while Curt apologizes for having murdered their little boy (who no one cared about, anyway). Sheer bliss, and another reason one hopes that more of McDowell’s work — and some of George Kuchar’s (237 films and videos, and not a one available legally!) — is released on DVD soon.
Note: Some of the images above are from online postings by Melinda McDowell Milks; their copyright is owned by the Curt McDowell estate.