Down and Out With the Dolls

 

Director Kurt Voss

Voss with Lemmy Kilmister

Lemmy Kilmister

DOWN AND OUT WITH THE DOLLS                  B                                                             USA  (87 mi)  2001  d: Kurt Voss

The Paper Dolls are the band I’d hope would rise above the bullshit and make it...Guess not.  —opening narration from Lavendar (Melody Moore)

Having worked with Allison Anders on Border Radio (1987), the two UCLA grads also collaborated on SUGAR TOWN (1999), a look at the lives of struggling LA scene rock stars, as aging rock musicians who were big in the 70’s and 80’s face midlife crises, career slumps, financial woes, and God knows what else, while this film is loosely based on Portland visual artist, production designer, producer, and co-writer Nalini “Deedee” Cheriel's life as a musician and the stories she would tell her friends Kurt Voss and Zoë Poledouris, who wrote the music for the film, about this time in her life playing in The Hindi Gods (with Voss) in Los Angeles, and several all-girl bands, including Seattle-based Teen Angels, Juned, and Eugene-based Adickdid.  Voss embodies the independent spirit and do-it-yourself filmmaking ethic who specializes in depicting the interpersonal relations of rock personalities, making shoestring-budget movies, with a flair for behind the scenes portraits of ignored or forgotten artists.  A raunchy, wry, and in-your-face tale of the fast rise and fall of a fictional all-girl, indie Portland rock band, the Paper Dolls, modeled after Pacific Northwest grunge and riot grrrl bands like Sleater-Kinney and Bikini Kill, the subject of Sini Anderson’s The Punk Singer (2013), punk-inspired indie and alternative rock bands that emerged in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s.  Demonstrating the continuing influence of punk, both in terms of sounds and anti-authoritarian attitudes, representing defiantly anti-mainstream values in a market that was seeking to co-opt alternative culture, riot grrrl bands stressed gender issues and sexism within indie music scenes, often featuring feminist lyrics and fiery performances, and were much more opposed to engagement with mainstream media than many grunge acts were, and therefore at the time of its emergence in the early 1990’s was far less popular than grunge, yet its influence has continued to grow over the years and has inspired a number of films like this one.  A depiction of the struggles musicians face while dealing with the music industry, this exposes issues that were frequently addressed following commercial breakthroughs within indie cultures, leading to well-worn debates on the effects of selling out and mass media’s detrimental effects upon the integrity of these underground subcultures.  The film had little to no distribution, no name stars, and was barely seen in theaters, but it does an excellent job revealing why rock bands break up so easily, as members are such divas, and behind the scenes all hell is breaking loose.  The film is populated by fanzine writers, music label owners, producers and other people who work in the independent music scene, while bassist Janis Tanaka of L7  and former Nymphs frontwoman Inger Lorre are among the Dolls hangers-on, along with a character named Alcoholly (Jennifer Shepard), emphasizing musical performances such as rehearsals, live performances, and a studio recording, where despite the film’s comic moxie and sardonic tone, the musical performances are authenticated by the input of musicians who actually play their own instruments, making music the driving force of the film.   

A compelling, satirical, and occasionally campy look at women in the underground music scene, and while the production values are a little rough around the edges, the core of the film is the authenticity of the music and the characters, featuring an independent record store, where one of the women works a day job, Lavendar (bassist Melody Moore), and a local bar where two of the other women work, Kali (Nicole Barrett, songwriter, guitarist, and lead vocal) and Reggie (drummer Kinnie Starr).  With a rather spare narration from Lavendar’s point of view, the entire story plays out in flashback mode, as what starts the wheels in motion is an argument in the local bar with Fauna (Zoë Poledouris), lead singer of a Goth band The Snogs, and her partner and bandmate Paulo (Mikael Jehanno), leading to the break-up of their band.  In the immediate aftermath, Kali asks Fauna if she wants to front their all-girl band, but receives only a dismissive look.  But when she’s thrown out of her home with Paulo and kicked out into the street with all her earthly possessions, she has an entirely different perspective.  Kali is a worshipping fan with a teenage crush on Levi (Coyote Shivers), lead guitarist of a New York-based band, The Suicide Bombers, seen performing a solo set in the record store, a guy she knew when they were much younger, having grown up in the same town.  Meeting the next day in a bar, their conversation is interrupted by Fauna, who literally throws herself back into the mix by agreeing to join their band, not only because she is desperate, but she sees this as an opportunity to get closer to Levi, who has status within the indie music world, as The Suicide Bombers have already signed with local indie label Pop Up Records, on the verge of going nationwide and becoming breakout stars, and she sees this as an opportunity.  Fauna may be opportunistic and mostly unpleasant, but she is also a commanding performer who acts as an inspiration for Kali and helps to improve the band, deciding to move into “The Dollhouse” together, a home allowing them space to rehearse while honing their songwriting skills, but their closeness may also drive them crazy.  While the band is comprised of archetypical figures, a self-obsessed, ambitiously-driven diva lead singer, naïvely idealistic yet comically sincere guitarist, pragmatically down to earth bass player, and go with the flow stoner drummer (apparently bringing her own bong to the set), their first informal performance, playing to a small audience in a make-shift backyard, is dynamic, where Fauna is a compelling, confident performer who grabs all the attention as she strides around the small, impromptu stage in a commanding fashion.  The dynamism of the performance is heightened by the way it is filmed, with quick edits, shot in weird angles, facilitated by digital cameras, which accentuate the film’s raw and hyperreal aesthetic, offering a more kinetic feel.  Even Kali has to admit, “Chalk it up to the benefits of creative conflict, but with that show The Paper Dolls sounded better than we ever had before.”

Kali writes the band’s songs with a sensitive, wide-eyed innocence, driven to write by an autobiographical need for self-expression, in stark contrast with Fauna who is star-driven for success, loosely based on Courtney Love, lead singer of the alternative rock band Hole, who herself was involved in the Portland rock scene when she was younger, a controversial figure who was ambitious and highly motivated, which put her at odds with the riot grrrl movement at times, and reportedly punched Bikini Kill lead singer Kathleen Hannah at the 1994 Lollapalooza festival.  One of the more memorable sequences in the film is the arrival of the Suicide Bombers in a small club, shown in a slo-mo sequence, envisioned like a girlish teenage fantasy.  At one point during a rehearsal, Fauna cynically attacks one of Kali’s songs in a nasty, patronizing manner, driving a schism between the honesty and raw authenticity of Kali and the ambitious commercialism of Fauna, which eats away at their friendship.  Making matters worse, Fauna has made a beeline towards Levi, driving a wedge between them, knowing how he could jumpstart her career, where her character represents naked ambition in the film, where her cravings for fame and money also lead her to sexually seduce men in positions of power, such as Levi and the record label owner, Bill Black (Alan Charing).  While she proves almost impossible to work with because of her conniving and manipulative selfishness, Fauna acts as a catalyst in bringing about the group’s demise.  Lavender is also frustrated, as she has put her relationship with longtime boyfriend Clark (Shawn Robinson) on hold to fully commit to the band.  Now, with Clark growing increasingly distant and jealous (he’s a frustrated musician himself), Lavender is beginning to weigh the cost of success.  She also senses the battle brewing between Fauna and Kali for the affections of Levi, and is concerned that her friend Kali, so youthfully innocent, will be the big loser.  Motörhead's Lemmy Kilmister (former roadie for Jimi Hendrix), in a rather bizarre cameo as an aging roadie speaking with a Cockney accent, happily moves into Fauna’s bedroom walk-in closet because the rent is so cheap.  Drummer Reggie doesn’t know it, but she has a looming problem of her own, as her proclivity for casually seducing and then discarding female fans has seriously angered one of her groupie conquests, Heather (Sierra Feldner-Shaw).  Mistaking Reggie’s casual hedonism for treatment one would receive at the hands of a male rock star, Heather feels used and jilted.  Seeking revenge, she has enlisted the help of Mulder (Brendan O'Hara, who is himself a DIY musician), Reggie’s long-suffering roadie boyfriend, a rather pathetic figure that she keeps around to help haul around the heavy equipment.  The good-natured Mulder has no vindictive feelings toward Reggie, but as she rarely sleeps with him, the sex-starved Mulder is quickly, if reluctantly, seduced by Heather into aiding her in a scheme to humiliate the sexually amoral drummer.  All comes to a head during a two-day rave at the Dollhouse, where the party, intended as the band’s glorious coming-out, degenerates into debauchery marred by drunken recrimination and mudslinging.  Where it all leads is to death and destruction, followed by a rebirth into new and completely unexpected directions.  So You Want to Be a Rock 'N' Roll Star YouTube (2:07), you might ask?  This plays out as an easy to like cautionary tale. 

Note

Nicole Barrett who plays Kali, was killed after being hit by a car while trying to cross a highway on foot in Thailand on July 17, 2014 where she was attending a Buddhist education course, Portland musician killed in Thailand car collision.  

Down & Out With the Dolls  entire film may be seen on YouTube (1:25:21)

Border Radio

 

Director Allison Anders

Anders with the ensemble cast

BORDER RADIO             B                                                                                                        USA  (87 mi)  1987  directors:  Allison Anders with Dean Lent and Kurt Voss

Many curses on those who tried to thwart us.                                                                                —end credit message

While Monte Hellman’s existential American road movie Two-Lane Blacktop (1971) was about an underground 60’s car culture that was dying, soon replaced by Jiffy Lubes, car sensors, cruise control, and all the modern conveniences, this film is about an underground LA music scene in the post-punk era of the 80’s before production values cleaned up the music industry with a studio sound that was equally cleansed of all rawness and spontaneous energy, erasing the very heart and soul of a live performance, reminding us of what was happening at the time, accentuating a sound that is now extinct.  But this film is a quietly potent example of a rugged improvisational style from first-time director Allison Anders and her fellow UCLA film school students Dean Lent and Kurt Voss, who made the Portland indie rock, all-girl band movie DOWN AND OUT WITH THE DOLLS (2001), turning into something of a family affair, as it stars the director’s sister Luanna Anders as Lu, a no-nonsense rock journalist, while her own daughter Devon appears as Lu’s 5-year old child.  Taking four years to complete the film, by some strange act of fate the depicted music scene disappeared altogether, swallowed up by the mainstream, finding themselves working after hours in the UCLA editing room, arriving via a side entrance after 11 pm and working through the night to be out by morning, with kids sleeping on the floor in sleeping bags under the editing table (security was much more lax before 9/11).  A high school dropout, a former welfare mother, and a rape survivor (including a brief stay in a mental hospital after a breakdown) who briefly dated Quentin Tarantino before becoming a MacArthur Foundation winner in 1995, Anders went on to make the feminist films GAS FOOD LODGING (1992) and MI VIDA LOCA (1993), both low-budget examples of highly observant, realist inspired, independent filmmaking.  While the principal photography took seven weeks, initially made for just $2000 dollars, eventually soaring to $82,000, the filmmakers only had six hours of film stock, so they didn’t have the luxury for multiple takes, yet in this experimental project DIY filmmaking merges with the music business, as DIY music had its origins in the late 70’s punk rock subculture, developed as a way to bring artists and fans closer together by circumnavigating the corporate mainstream.  Lacking film permits, much of this was shot-on-the-fly, guerilla style in West Hollywood, Baja California in Mexico, and Twentynine Palms, while the musical venue is the Hong Kong Café in Chinatown, a haven for punk musicians in the early 80’s, yet also a home to outcasts and artists who were not welcome anywhere else, giving the film a disjointed narrative and primitive look, where there’s nothing cleaned up about this picture, still very rough around the edges, not like anything we’re used to seeing today, as there’s simply no production embellishments to make this look like anything other than a chaotic memory fragment, as these are recollections of something time has passed by, providing a glimpse into a bygone era.  With only sparing use of punk music, the film instead evokes the disordered “feel” of the punk era, containing that same anarchic spirit.  The UCLA student trio all worked as production assistants on Wim Wenders’ American road odyssey Paris, Texas (1984), with Anders running lines with Harry Dean Stanton, where much of this feels like a bleak sojourn into the same kind of sprawling Southern California landscape, where there’s not much of a story, yet this roundabout road movie captures the uncertainty and insecurity of a ragtag group of musicians living on the fringe of society who pretty much make things up as they go along, refusing to be part of the commodification of the music industry. 

Chris Desjardins (aka Chris D.) is the legendary singer/songwriter from the Flesh Eaters, a staple of the LA punk scene of the 80’s, appearing as Jeff Bailey, named after the doomed Robert Mitchum character from Jacques Tourneur’s Out of the Past (1947), a down and out musician on the verge of achieving success, but it comes at the risk of selling out, with production values added to his latest album to make him sound more radio accessible.  When he quickly disappears to a trailer park in Ensenada, Mexico, word has it he’s pissed at the changes made to his record without his consent, yet a violent incident that opens the film tells a different story, as he’s escaping from some thugs in what looks like a drug deal gone wrong, Border Radio (1987) -- (Movie Clip) Bring A Lot Of Beer YouTube (3:26).  Iris Berry is a real-life punk rock groupie interviewed early on as an example of the pseudo documentary style, as she rapturously describes how much better the music scene was in the late 70’s, describing how the good bands got record deals, but the bad bands broke up, the clubs closed, and the fans got left behind, Border Radio (1987) -- (Movie Clip) They'll Boo You Off Stage YouTube (3:17).  Her authentic insight, however, whatever we may think of her, is right on the money, serving as the film’s de facto narrator and cultural ambassador, as she was a you-are-there eye witness to one of the most rebellious movements in rock history.  One curious aspect of this film is by the time it was released, a decade after the Ramones released their first album, punk had already become part of the accepted American consciousness, so the film has a way of looking back, like a faded memory.  Shot entirely on location on 16mm by Dean Lent, the gritty black and white photography gives the film a distinctive look, Little Honey YouTube (1:37), along with random pieces of music scattered throughout which were mostly compiled by David Alvin, founding member of the Blasters, while music posters are seen everywhere lining the walls, yet there’s a story within a story.  One centers upon Chris hanging out on the beach drinking beer, chatting with the locals, playing songs to an Elvis China doll and a clay devil on top of an abandoned car, burning his guitar on the beach, and just biding his time, where he’s in no particular hurry to go anywhere, where his long exile out of the country is wreaking havoc with the record company’s attempts to promote the album without his input.  Another follows his on-again off-again wife Lu and their precocious child Devon, who are left to sort things out and fend for themselves, not exactly sure what happened, left in the same kind of limbo as Chris on the beach, yet she’s forced to contend with the mess he left behind, consumed by the constant frustration from the lies of self-indulgent men in her life.  John Doe, of the band X, plays Dean, the bass player of the group, Border Radio (1987) -- (Movie Clip) I'll Still Be Drunk  YouTube (4:06), who openly acknowledges that his music is the “only thing that sets me apart from other drunks,” while Chris (UCLA theater student Chris Shearer) is Jeff’s roadie and longtime best friend, emblematic of the Southern California mindset with that everpresent wry smile, as if high on weed, where he’s a little goofy, scatterbrained, never seeming to have a care in the world, and completely enamored with Jeff, who he idolizes, yet he holds himself in such high regard with delusions of grandeur, believing he’s the essential component to the band’s success.  He’s interviewed before the camera at one point:

Chris: Well, yeah. I’m the roadie, but I. . .I do a lot more than that. I, uh. . .I mean, I. . .I do a lot more than just set up equipment and stuff. I’m like a. . .Well, I’m more what you call a hands-on roadie. I’m basically Jeff’s right-hand man. And when he needs advice or somethin’, he comes to me. And. . .You know, like when he has trouble with Dean or something like that. Yeah, when Jeff’s up there onstage, it’s like a. . .It’s like a part of me is up there with him.
Man: Do you get paid?
Chris: Nah, I do it for rock. Rock’s much more important than money. It’s like a statement.
Man: A statement of what?
Chris: Well, it’s. . .Uh. . .I don’t know. It’s. . .It’s, uh. . .Well, it’s like when guys are rockin’ out onstage, you know. . .and they’re. . .they’re doin’ what they want and bein’ cool. That’s a statement.
Man: Well, how do you support yourself?
Chris: Well, that’s extraneous information.

Initially there’s a humorous narrative device, with each morsel of information followed by a chapter heading “one week later,” which repeats itself three or four times, later changing to a completely undetermined time frame “2 or 6 months later,” where time seemingly stops, often feeling meandering and sluggish, as we’re stuck in a disorienting state of inertia filled with existential characters whose free-wheeling lives show aimless direction, Border Radio (1987) -- (Movie Clip) Followed By A Jeep YouTube (3:35).  That empty space may drive some viewers batty, as nothing really happens for most of this uncompromising film, with no actual script, feeling more like a road map that uncovers a distant archaeological relic from the past with deep cultural significance, reminiscent of the trippy mindset of Dennis Hopper’s nearly indecipherable The Last Movie (1971).  After several attempts to get the straight dope out of both Dean and Chris, they remain tight-lipped about Jeff, claiming no knowledge of what happened, while also remaining constantly at odds with each other, so Lu starts to get desperate, as she expected her husband would return but still hasn’t heard from him.  All the other guys in the band hit on her at some point in Jeff’s absence, with Chris actually moving in temporarily, taking full advantage of the situation, yet he’s completely unreliable and undependable, like a grown-up child who can’t take care of himself, but he helps pass the time.  At some point Lu gets more forceful, with Dean finally confessing a weird plan concocted by Chris after the band was stiffed out of their cut one night by a crooked club owner, so in retaliation they returned to bust open the safe, making off with a thousand bucks and a handful of Quaaludes, with the owner sending his thugs after Jeff to rough him up (“F*ck The Clash, man...all those bands just ripped off everything from Iggy and the Stooges”), but he escaped, leaving them to pulverize Dean instead.  Irritated that so much time was wasted, she tries to make amends by selling her car and offering the owner compensation for what was taken, but she’s surprised to hear Jeff has already squared things away just days after he disappeared.  So she heads down to Mexico at the same time Jeff decides to return home, discovering, of all people, Texacala Jones of Tex and the Horseheads acting as the inattentive babysitter in Lu’s absence.  It’s a hilarious take on what is arguably the most spaced-out babysitting job in cinema history, as Jones has a completely self-absorbed mindset, yet she’s filled with unguarded moments, contributing an outrageous artistic sensibility that reads true, as most of these unrecognized musicians are just struggling to survive.  While ambiguity is at the heart of the film, we discover Lu working on a book near the end, as we hear Berry’s summation, “You can’t expect other people to create drama for your life—they’re too busy creating it for themselves.”  All about personality and atmosphere, beautifully reflected in the film trailer, Border Radio trailer [dir. Allison Anders, 1987] YouTube (2:33), carving out previously unexplored territory that many might have missed, while also offering a very strong, authentic, female point of view, this is a film that lingers in the subconscious long afterwards with a naturalistic, yet rambling life of its own, filled with wall-to-wall music from tinny Norteño (music) radio, including Los Lobos from their first album, María Chuchena (Son Jarocho) YouTube (3:57), with fleeting, impressionable images of wild horses running free along the beach, paddle boats in Echo Park, an isolated desert motel, and electric radio towers looming on the horizon, as it captures all the restlessness, anger, self-deception, and regret of the 1980’s LA punk subculture in decline.

Allison Anders's Top 10 | Current  Criterion

Allison Anders  2022 BFI Sight and Sound ballot for greatest films of all time