Post by The Narrator Returns on Jun 16, 2013 18:32:39 GMT -6
Spalding Gray might be one of the very best storytellers of our time. He had a knack for making every word he said larger-than-life, and endlessly fascinating. To say that we lost a great storyteller when he committed suicide in 2004 (supposedly after a viewing of Tim Burton’s Big Fish) is an understatement. Thankfully, to remember him, we have three film documents (plus a special on HBO, a retrospective on his life entitled And Everything is Going Fine and a few videotaped monologues, two of which appeared on Criterion’s releases of Going Fine and Anatomy) to capture his genius. The first, Swimming to Cambodia, directed by Jonathan Demme, deals with Gray’s adventures while acting The Killing Fields. Demme’s camera mostly stays put, allowing for Gray to do what he does best; tell stories to an audience. The second, Monster in a Box, directed by Nick Broomfield, tells the story of Gray working on (but mostly procrastinating in finishing) his book Impossible Vacation. Broomfield adds more showy angles and weird colors than Cambodia, but mostly, it’s Gray telling his stories to an audience. The third and final film, Gray’s Anatomy, directed by Soderbergh, takes Broomfield’s approach much further, and removes the audience completely, instead opting for more special effects and sets relating to the monologue. Does this approach work? Well, I loved this movie, so I’d say yes.
The film opens with an excerpt from an educational film (which looks straight out of Young American Films) about eyesight, and how you use it all the time. Then, we get a series of interviews with people who suffered eye trauma, and how they reacted to it. For those who are squeamish about eye injury might want to have a vomit bag handy, because these stories get pretty graphic (one guy got a wire brush jammed in his eye, another used Super Glue instead of eye drops, and one woman sleeps with her eyes open, and has to tape her eyes shut so they don’t dry out). Then, we meet the man himself, as he discusses a workshop he did when he turned 50, and the various hints that he needed to get his eyes checked out. Turns out, he has a macular pucker in his left eye, which causes blurry vision and needs an operation called a macular scraping. Gray is terrified of what this entails, so he searches for alternative methods. Some are a bit out there (a doctor in New Jersey tells him to go on an all-raw vegetable diet). Others are downright insane (a sweat lodge ceremony, which provides the film with its very-best scene), and others still go beyond even that (a “psychic surgeon” from the Philippines, who sounds like the real-life version of Dr. Nick Riviera). And they all come to life wonderfully thanks to Gray’s words and his mannerisms, not to mention Soderbergh’s direction. The effects and sets in the film all complement Gray’s words beautifully, and despite their seemingly showy nature, they don’t distract. Instead, they only draw your attention closer to Gray and what he’s saying. It’s a far different style than the other two filmed monologues, but it’s no less rewarding.
Sure, Soderbergh does go all out with his use of colors (note the vivid and rich hues which appear when Gray talks about the office of the New Jersey doctor, which he describes as “Hansel and Gretel’s house on acid”), but the real star of the film is always Gray. And he does what he always does best; bring life into everything he says.
Grade: A-
Lester Scale: Classic
The Soderbergh Players: Given the film’s rather limited cast (Gray and some interviewees), the only Soderbergh regular to appear here is Gray himself, who played the role of a depressed resident of Aaron Kurlander’s hotel in King of the Hill.
John Hardy produced the film, which was made during a break in Schizopolis’s shooting, as evidenced by the Schizopolis actors working as a technical crew, like Mike Malone (T. Azimuth Schwitters) and David Jensen (Elmo Oxygen).
The film opens with an excerpt from an educational film (which looks straight out of Young American Films) about eyesight, and how you use it all the time. Then, we get a series of interviews with people who suffered eye trauma, and how they reacted to it. For those who are squeamish about eye injury might want to have a vomit bag handy, because these stories get pretty graphic (one guy got a wire brush jammed in his eye, another used Super Glue instead of eye drops, and one woman sleeps with her eyes open, and has to tape her eyes shut so they don’t dry out). Then, we meet the man himself, as he discusses a workshop he did when he turned 50, and the various hints that he needed to get his eyes checked out. Turns out, he has a macular pucker in his left eye, which causes blurry vision and needs an operation called a macular scraping. Gray is terrified of what this entails, so he searches for alternative methods. Some are a bit out there (a doctor in New Jersey tells him to go on an all-raw vegetable diet). Others are downright insane (a sweat lodge ceremony, which provides the film with its very-best scene), and others still go beyond even that (a “psychic surgeon” from the Philippines, who sounds like the real-life version of Dr. Nick Riviera). And they all come to life wonderfully thanks to Gray’s words and his mannerisms, not to mention Soderbergh’s direction. The effects and sets in the film all complement Gray’s words beautifully, and despite their seemingly showy nature, they don’t distract. Instead, they only draw your attention closer to Gray and what he’s saying. It’s a far different style than the other two filmed monologues, but it’s no less rewarding.
Sure, Soderbergh does go all out with his use of colors (note the vivid and rich hues which appear when Gray talks about the office of the New Jersey doctor, which he describes as “Hansel and Gretel’s house on acid”), but the real star of the film is always Gray. And he does what he always does best; bring life into everything he says.
Grade: A-
Lester Scale: Classic
The Soderbergh Players: Given the film’s rather limited cast (Gray and some interviewees), the only Soderbergh regular to appear here is Gray himself, who played the role of a depressed resident of Aaron Kurlander’s hotel in King of the Hill.
John Hardy produced the film, which was made during a break in Schizopolis’s shooting, as evidenced by the Schizopolis actors working as a technical crew, like Mike Malone (T. Azimuth Schwitters) and David Jensen (Elmo Oxygen).