Showing posts with label Lou Reed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lou Reed. Show all posts

Monday, July 6, 2026

The Velvet Underground


 



























Director Todd Haynes
















THE VELVET UNDERGROUND               A                                                                       USA  (121 mi)  2021  d: Todd Haynes

Music fathoms the sky.                                                                                                                  —Baudelaire

Not sure there’s ever been a movie that exposes the deep rift between the East coast and West coast better than this, as The Velvet Underground are essentially a New York City band, rising out of that distinct cultural vibe that simply wasn’t happening anywhere else, as it was an eclectic mix of early 60’s avant-garde/experimental music, Andy Warhol’s Factory, the East Village bohemian literary scene, and underground cinema subcultures that spawned The Velvet Underground, a subversive rock group that was way ahead of its time, where even today they are largely misunderstood, one of the most mythologized bands of their generation, or maybe ever, as their roots are so unique.  Todd Haynes understands this and what’s shown onscreen captures the birth of the band, the unique personalities and artistic attributes they each bring, where they are simply not like anything else, which is exactly what was said about them in the beginning, with Haynes telling the story of this band through the experimental cinema of the 60’s from which they emerged.  What also makes this film so unique is just how hard it is to see it, as it doesn’t play in any ordinary venues, and you have to have very specific streaming platforms to watch it.   It’s literally been five years since it was initially released, but that day has finally come, and this film is nothing less than extraordinary, the only documentary Haynes has ever made, and it may be the best thing he has ever created, perhaps the film he was always destined to make, infused with his own formative aesthetic, hypnotic, reverently artistic, exquisitely detailed, and informative, filling in all the unknowns about a completely unorthodox music group, yet not in any conventional sense, as there’s nothing remotely mainstream about it, taking you down obscure and untold paths through sensory overload, highlighting the source of why this music, and the artists who create it, are so ingeniously creative, producing a richly layered love letter to the band.  We may have seen or experienced many of the songs or these personalities before, but not from this documentary perspective, from the people who were there and knew them, and were blown away by them, literally taking us back to that specific time and place, with Haynes choosing rare versions that didn’t get a lot of airplay, much like the previously unreleased versions chosen for Bob Dylan’s Biograph compilation, as this gets to the heart of who they really were, taking their name from a 1963 paperback book on aberrant sexual behavior by journalist Michael Leigh, The Velvet Underground (book).  The superstar artistic range of Warhol the artist and filmmaker, and such diverse musicians as Lou Reed, a quintessentially New York artist, and John Cale, who connected the realms of cutting-edge experimentalism and pop immediacy, each bringing their own unique style and vision, which is what separates this group from everyone else, as they are simply a cultural phenomenon.  According to avant-garde poet and underground filmmaker Jonas Mekas, to whom the film is dedicated, “We are not part of the subculture or counterculture.  We are the culture.”

With their connection to the epicenter of New York’s avant-garde art and cinema scene, specifically Andy Warhol’s Factory and minimalist composer La Monte Young’s Dream Syndicate, it would be impossible to examine this film without an eye to the visual, as Haynes creates visual collages featuring the works of Maya Deren, Stan Brakhage, Kenneth Anger, and Jack Smith, using a split screen throughout much of the film, juxtaposing new and archival interviews with film excerpts and examples of visual art.  The extensive credits at the end of the film reveal just how much archival material was drawn from to make this film, including a treasure trove from the Andy Warhol Museum, recognized as the most prominent artist of the entire Pop art era, exploring a mix of mediums, including film, audio and video.  The only other film that comes close to this is the Laura Poitras film 2023 Top Ten List #2 All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (2022), revealing a similar East coast bohemian vibe in the 60’s and 70’s, while it’s extremely important to acknowledge the significance of Warhol’s own influential films, invoking the split screen image from Chelsea Girls (1966), which was made at the same time, a period when he stopped painting and began collaborating with this new musical group.  While they are icons of the music world today, The Velvet Underground were extremely “unpopular” at the time, where their constant repetition and abrasive, industrial-like atonal sounds left audiences in visible discomfort and confusion, with a droning electric viola and lyrics that focused on drugs, prostitution, S & M, and other gritty topics that were cutting edge controversial at the time, which would inevitably get them banned from the airwaves, making them the exact opposite of the peace and love hippie flower power movement that was all the rage on the West coast, as rudeness, not sanguine smiles, was simply a way of life on the mean streets of New York City.  Defined by avant-garde or experimental rock, Warhol did several screen tests of German model and actress Nico (Christa Pӓffgen), who became a mysteriously beguiling feminine counterbalance as their singer, while clips from EMPIRE (1964) and VINYL (1965) would be blown up to play as a backdrop behind the performers, featuring various dancers from the Factory (like Mary Woronov and Gerard Malanga) along with a multi-screen film projection and elaborate light shows known as the Exploding Plastic Inevitable, which eventually became associated with live rock shows of the era, used regularly by Bay area rock promoter Bill Graham, who actually despised the group for bringing their obnoxious East coast pretensions to his sacred grounds, telling the band before they walked onstage, “I hope you fuckers bomb.”  The funniest moment comes when the group heads to play in Los Angeles in 1966, where they are greeted by the sounds of The Mama’s and Papa’s singing Monday, Monday (Single Version) YouTube (3:28), where their dark transgressive selves couldn’t have been more out of step with all that bright Southern California sunshine.    

Haynes has long been interested in music, both on its own terms and in its connection to popular culture, as his first film, SUPERSTAR: THE KAREN CARPENTER STORY (1987), tells the saga of Carpenter’s life using her music as a soundtrack and Barbie dolls as actors.  A similar focus shaped VELVET GOLDMINE (1998) and I’M NOT THERE (2007), which centers around glam rock and Bob Dylan, respectively, as Haynes brings this same understanding of music as a cultural prototype to this film, discovering there was almost no live concert footage, so instead the focus is on the extraordinarily creative minds behind this ultimate collision of rock ‘n’ roll and the art world.  Haynes highlights the band’s ability to seamlessly blend literary ambition, classical-experimental elements (thanks to John Cale), and street-level rock ‘n’ roll (led by Lou Reed).  Speaking from his own sensibility as a queer artist, Haynes explores how the band’s embrace of alienation, discomfort, and queer themes offered strength to those who felt marginalized, perfectly capturing the ultimate in outsiderism, revealing that Reed was administered shock therapy by his parents as a teenager to drive his gay and/or anti-social inclinations out of him.  Their original lineup consisted of singer, songwriter, and guitarist Lou Reed, who had a fascinating way of improvising lyrics onstage, Welsh multi-instrumentalist John Cale on bass, viola, and keyboards, guitarist Sterling Morrison, the only one who never made solo recordings, and female drummer Maureen “Moe” Tucker, who started playing drums after hearing The Rolling Stones Not Fade Away (Mono Version) YouTube (1:47) on the radio, each introduced by their Factory Screen Tests, with Cale describing the band's creative ethos: “how to be elegant and how to be brutal.”  In 1966, Pop artist Andy Warhol became their official manager, adding Nico as a singer, who added a softer, more feminine touch, a stark contrast to their black-dressed, leather-clad entourage, with the group serving as the house band at Warhol’s Factory, becoming a traveling multimedia show in 1966 and 1967.  Their first album opened to poor sales and relative indifference, where the Warhol banana cover art was what was talked about (a decal that could be peeled back), not the music, though it has since been regarded as one of the greatest albums in music history.  As fate would have it, four of the five principles have died before the making of this film, leaving only John Cale as the band’s spokesperson, which he does eloquently, offering needed objectivity and insider knowledge, where the film opens to the screeching electric sounds of his isolated viola from a song about heroin, The Velvet Underground-Heroin YouTube (7:02), where nothing before that had ever sounded so raw and crude, so alien and abrasive.  According to an IndieWire Review, “Warhol said that he liked the Velvets because they sounded the way his movies looked, and now Haynes has made a documentary that looks the way the Velvets sounded.”

The definitive film about The Velvet Underground, a band that never particularly cared about their fans or their legacy, who blazed a brief trail in the Zeitgeist before flaming out, burning with an intensity that could simply not be sustained, filmed on 16mm, 8mm, and digital by Edward Lachman, while edited by Affonso Gonçalves and Adam Kurnitz, with a major assist from archival consultant Steven Bozga, unparalleled artists in their own right, this sensory kaleidoscope is just experimental enough to capture the raw artistic energy that defined the era and their music, as represented by one of their more radically subversive songs, "Venus in Furs" - The Velvet Underground (Live Exploding ... YouTube (5:11), with audiences subjected to guerrilla-type assaults from an explosive light show.  Presenting new or difficult to access materials, one of the most incisive voices heard is that of film critic Amy Taubin, who was there at Warhol’s Factory and witnessed the effect he and his films had on the Velvets, expressing her view, “Warhol, avant-garde film, and avant-garde music—it was all about extended time.”  We hear from a teenage obsessed superfan, Jonathan Richman, singer/songwriter and frontman for the Modern Lovers, a devoted fixture of their shows who reportedly saw something like 70 performances, recalling the impact of witnessing Sister Ray (Live In New York City/1967) YouTube (19:02) as if it just happened yesterday, poet and mentor Delmore Schwartz, Lou Reed’s sister, his high school and college friends, even a college girlfriend (indicating they would frequent gay bars), whose observations are essential in the evolution of the band, which began with Reed and Cale fronting The Primitives, with his sister showing how to dance to their hit The Primitives - "The Ostrich" YouTube (2:38), which is pure silliness.  A few other unusual voices chime in, with just a single photograph of Reed and Laurie Anderson that speaks for itself, offering a constantly shifting pattern of viewpoints, which only adds to the viewing pleasure, as Haynes really captures the essence of the band and why they still matter today.  Quite in contrast to the infamous documentaries on Woodstock and Monterey Pop, Andy Warhol’s Factory scene felt nothing but sneering contempt for the utopian hippie crazes that were sweeping the nation by way of Northern California at the time.  John Cale, who co-founded the Velvet Underground with Lou Reed, referred to the free love camp as “scruffy, dirty people.”  It is important to note that in performance with the Exploding Plastic Inevitable, much of the Velvet Underground’s set consisted of long, dissonant, feedback-heavy improvisations (often erroneously described in reviews as tuning up) much different from the songs heard on the released albums, where these improvisations often took up more than half of an evening's performance.  For what it’s worth, very few, if any films capture the spirit of the 60’s better than this film, leaving us with The Velvet Underground & Nico - All Tomorrow's Parties YouTube (5:52), which was Andy Warhol's favorite by The Velvets, perhaps best described as "avant-garde in the extreme."

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Heart of a Dog














HEART OF A DOG                A-            
USA  (75 mi)  2015 d:  Laurie Anderson  

I walk accompanied by ghosts.
I walk accompanied by ghosts.

My father with his diamond eyes
His voice life size.
He says follow me. Follow me.

And I come sliding where I've been hiding
Out of the heart of a child.

Meet me by the lake. Meet me by the lake.
I'll be there. I'll be there.

If only I had the time. To tell you how I climbed
Out of the darkness. Out of my mind.
And I come sliding where I've been hiding

Out of the heart of a child.

Sunrise comes across the mountains.
Sunrise comes across the day.
Sunsets sit across the lakeside.
Sunsets across the Pyrenees.

Out of the heart of a child.
Out of the heart of a child.
Out of the heart of a child.

Meet me by the lake. Meet me by the lake.
I walk accompanied by ghosts.

The Lake, by Laurie Anderson, The Lake - YouTube (5:39), 2010

Laurie Anderson covers a lot of territory in this personal meditation on life and death, initially commissioned by Swiss Arte TV as a “philosophy of life” project, beautifully exploring the process of grief through intimate experiences that she shares.  And while initially conceived as a short film eulogy in memory of her beloved rat terrier dog Lolabelle, who died in 2011, this is essentially a poetic visual essay expanded to include the death of her mother, fellow artist Gordon Matta-Clark, and husband Lou Reed who also died while she was making the film, who is never mentioned, and only seen in a fleeting shot near the end, where their constant presence has a way of turning this into a story inhabited by ghosts that provides continuous illumination into our existing world, citing David Foster Wallace’s The Pale King that suggests “Every love story is a ghost story,” becoming a feature-length film delivered several years late and at four times the length that it was originally supposed to be.  What’s distinctive about this effort is the often inventive and amusing way Anderson chooses to do this, where it is as much about the art of storytelling and the joy of living.  Unlike other attempts on similar themes, like Gaspar Noé’s ENTER THE VOID (2009), this material isn’t bogged down by conventions or form, but remains elevated throughout by an artist’s often euphoric sensibility, where the director conjures up the spirit of film essayist Chris Marker or Agnès Varda with her own Midwestern sounding narration that quite honestly recalls the voice of Gena Rowlands, who was born in Madison, Wisconsin.  (Interestingly, Rowlands is her mother’s maiden name.)  An honest, autobiographical appraisal of her own life, one of the guiding inspirations of the film is attributed to a quote from Søren Kierkegaard, “Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” 

While only 75-minutes long, it’s an extremely dense and impactive experience filled with childhood memories, video diaries, reflections on the post 9/11 surveillance culture, and reincarnation, sprinkled throughout by quotes from Anderson’s personal Zen Buddhist teacher Mingyur Rinpoche and The Tibetan Book of the Dead, along with tributes to various artists who have inspired her.  Anderson grew up in Glen Ellyn, Illinois, attending Glenbard West High School, majoring in art history at Barnard College while earning her master’s in sculpture from Columbia University, becoming a composer and musician, mostly playing violin and keyboards, and once worked as an art critic for Artforum magazine (also McDonald’s and on an Amish farm) before embarking on a career in the 60’s as an avant-garde performance artist, quickly finding her place in the experimental art scene of SoHo in the 1970’s, becoming a pioneer in electronic music.  Composing the musical soundtracks to Jonathan Demme’s SOMETHING WILD (1986) and Spalding Gray films SWIMMING TO CAMBODIA (1987) and MONSTER IN A BOX (1992), while also adding additional music to BEFORE NIGHT FALLS (2000), Anderson has only directed one other feature-length movie, HOME OF THE BRAVE (1986), a filmed performance of one of her musical tours.  While her audio/visual work has appeared in major museums in America and Europe, where she is considered a groundbreaking leader in the use of technology in the arts, she has released a half dozen albums and also written six books.  In 2002, in something of an oddity, she was announced as NASA’s first artist in residence, out of which developed a solo performance entitled “The End of the Moon,” Laurie Anderson - The end of the moon ... - YouTube (8:31), that toured internationally through 2006, which suggests Anderson’s art reaches for the mysteries of the cosmos.     

Except for a trip to California, all of this film was shot within a few blocks of Anderson’s artist and musician’s studio in southern SoHo on the far western reaches of Canal Street overlooking the Hudson River in Lower Manhattan, bleak building facades and empty streets as seen through surveillance footage after the 9/11 attack, while today there are Trump Tower skyscrapers on each side of her low-lying building with plenty of trees nearby.  The film opens with a dream about giving birth to a dog, where the bond between them is profoundly intimate, displaying an almost maternalistic attachment, beautifully expressed by Anderson’s own monochrome ink drawings, followed shortly thereafter by the death of her mother, where she remembers in great detail her last words, as she was literally saying goodbye to animals that she imagined seeing on the ceiling, which may as well have been her eight children huddled by the side of her hospital bed.  According to Anderson, her mother, on some level, was trying to give a speech, like going up to a microphone and saying “Thank you, all of you, thanks for coming.”  One of the most extraordinary revelations is the acknowledgment how difficult this was for Anderson, as she never loved her mother, so she wasn’t sure what to say in the final moments.  But she didn’t have to worry about it, as her mother spoke for everyone in the room, literally creating a new language to fit the occasion.  Similarly, in order to prepare her for this moment, her Buddhist teacher Rinpoche suggested she try to think of a moment when she was truly loved by her mother, and isolate that moment, becoming a memory frozen in time that will live forever. 

Lolabelle is the featured character, returned to throughout the film, as Anderson took her everywhere, and can be seen in a 2003 Charlie Rose interview with the artist and her husband, Laurie Anderson & Lou Reed Interviewed by Charlie Rose ... Pt. 1 YouTube (13:40).  Leading a remarkable life, recounting how her pet mastered the ability to feel empathy, a unique quality that many humans lack, unfortunately, while Anderson has also taught her various skills, like how to finger-paint with her paws, make sculptures with the help of a trainer, or play the electric piano.  Not only could she play piano on cue in front of a camera, but Anderson brought her to various public fundraisers where she amazingly performed in front of large audiences, developing a kind of free-form, Thelonious Monk style of percussive riffs.  When her pet started going blind not long before her death, she decided to move her to a more comfortable environment,  Green Gulch | San Francisco Zen Center, a Buddhist retreat located near Muir Beach hugging the shoreline 16 miles north of San Francisco, where it was Anderson’s idea to test Lolabelle’s ability to comprehend as many as 50 vocabulary words.  While walking her along the beach every day, often extended to all day events, Anderson describes herself as a “sky-worshipper,” where looking to the vastness of the sky tends to have a calming influence, but on this occasion she discovered a circling hawk that dive-bombed her dog, turning away at the last minute when it apparently realized Lolabelle was not a rabbit.  This brought to mind the similar idea of airborne predators that struck on 9/11, a thought that is never far from the mind of such a quintessentially New York artist, recalling the presence of so many armed troops suddenly stationed just outside her home throughout Lower Manhattan, where Lolabelle comes from the same breed of dogs that Homeland Security trains. 

One of the more unique sections is Anderson’s rendering of the Bardo, a transitionary state between death and rebirth, according to The Tibetan Book of the Dead, shown in expressionist paintings, near abstract imagery, and Anderson’s own remarkable score.  This epitomizes what Anderson is trying to do, expressing her own ruminations on the afterlife, describing the fragility of every moment, inviting the viewers into an imaginative use of variously textured visual effects, employing animation, 8mm home movie clips, distorted or altered imagery, text on the screen, newly shot footage, and such an inventive use of music, like the Kronos Quartet, Kronos Quartet — Flow (Laurie Anderson) [LIVE] - YouTube (3:18), all given shape by the weight of her own personal narration, developing such a stimulating and fluid work, as if conjured up from the depths of her own consciousness.  “You should try to practice how to feel sad without actually being sad,” suggests her teacher Rinpoche as we see snow fall gently in the woods and ice-skaters moving in slow motion on a frozen lake, as Anderson remembers her days skating on that lake in Glen Ellyn, recalling a haunting childhood memory, shown in faded and cracked photographs, when she was pushing two younger identical twin brothers in a stroller across the ice when suddenly the weight of the stroller fell through a cracked opening, where both children were instantly underwater.  All she could think about was the trouble she’d be in with her mother if she lost her brothers, so she dove into the frozen water, searching through the muck to retrieve one, placing him safely on the ice before diving after the other brother as well, running home with both of them tucked under each arm, where her mother’s response was “I didn’t know you were such an exceptional diver.”  The death of her mother awoke these strange and conflicted feelings of fear, a sense of urgency, and regret, but also that one moment when she was truly loved by her mother.  It’s an amazing incident, remarkably portrayed, and beautifully incorporated into an impressionistic film collage that delves into the depths of the human spirit.  With a flicker of his lost soul, Lou Reed’s “Turning Time Around” Lou Reed - Turning time around (2000) - YouTube (5:48) plays fittingly over the end credits.