The Seafarers: a preachy recruitment film for trade union membership with unusual historical relevance

Stanley Kubrick, “The Seafarers” (1953)

Stanley Kubrick’s first film made in colour turns out to be a 30-minute documentary promoting a trade union for crews of cargo vessels. “The Seafarers” was commissioned by Seafarers International Union (SIU), a North American union representing mariners in North and South America. As an extended infomercial, the film extols the benefits of union membership for would-be sailors, including medical benefits, scholarships and fighting for decent pay and working conditions, and stresses the union’s democratic nature. In 30 minutes the film covers everything the SIU offers to sailors who join the union in a straightforward and succinct way. Cleverly appealing to sailors’ liking for creature comforts, the narrative begins by focusing on the SIU headquarters’ cafeteria and shooting close-ups of food in bain-maries before moving to the union’s recreation room and the department that pays out member sailors’ pay cheques. The film then goes on to explain how sailors apply for jobs on cargo ships and from then on punches out a list of benefits, rights and privileges sailors enjoy through SIU membership. From that, the film waxes expansively about how the SIU provides security and stability, not just for sailors but also for their families, and in this taps deeply into treasured American values about the sanctity of the family as a bedrock for society.

The pace of the film is leisurely and the narration provided by CBS news reporter Don Hollenbeck is matter-of-fact in that dull and deadly earnest style favoured by narrators of documentaries made in the mid-20th century. There is not much room in the film for Kubrick to show individual flair apart from a scene in the cafeteria where the camera pans leisurely from left to right over the food warming in the bain-maries.

As a promotional film, “The Seafarers” is quite persuasive but its historical relevance may be limited: oddly, no historical background is given and viewers will be left wondering how and when the SIU was formed, and what historical circumstances led to its birth. What actually does the SIU’s constitution promote, what are the values of the SIU, and how well does it uphold its principles and maintain its democratic spirit – these are things viewers might want to know. How has it grown over the years, what vision does it hold for the future – the film does not address these issues.

Viewers are very likely to find this documentary quite preachy and repetitive to some extent. Does it fit into Kubrick’s overall oeuvre of work? It may well do; the bulk of Kubrick’s films deal with crises of Western masculinity and how individual men coped and dealt with attacks on their masculinity from an America that more often than not repressed individual expression, enforced conformity and sent men to fight in wars around the planet to maintain control over other countries and their wealth. “The Seafarers” suggests that men will find their full expression of manhood in being both individuals capable of responsibility and self-control, and participants and team-players exercising their democratic rights and privileges in an organisation that serves their individual and collective interests. Of course, there’s nothing about what men should do if their individual rights and responsibilities clash with their collective rights and responsibilities, and it’s in that clash that the crisis erupts … so in a sense, “The Seafarers” does have a place in Kubrick’s work.

Yuck! A 4th Grader’s Short Documentary about School Lunch: young investigator’s sleuthing into public school lunch program is queasy to stomach

Zachary Maxwell, “Yuck! A 4th Grader’s Short Documentary about School Lunch” (2012)

Here comes wisdom from the mouths of babes … in this case, 9-year-old Zachary Maxwell who at the time of filming was attending a public elementary school in New York City. Every day, he’d look forward to school lunch based on the day’s menu which read like a menu that might be offered by one of NY’s finest 3-starred restaurants … only to be disappointed by the over-wrapped, bland and tasteless factory offerings dumped onto his tray. Irritated by the huge gap between what was advertised and what was the reality, Maxwell began a guerrilla film project in which he surreptitiously filmed or photographed about 75 school lunches served to him over several months, at least until he became careless and the Lunch Monitor caught him waving his phone camera in the air. Out of these pictures and videos, Maxwell created a well-structured investigative documentary project which highlights the hypocrisy behind the school lunch programs being run in New York City.

The documentary is very slick and Maxwell received a lot of adult help in editing the film and creating special effects and animation for the project. He ropes in his young brother Lucas for several scenes including a number of scenes in which they conduct an experiment (not very scientific) to see whether the school cafeteria’s fried potato chips last as long as a sponge cake or fresh vegetables. Maxwell appears in nearly every shot where he plays both investigative sleuth and narrator.

Maxwell concludes from the results of his project that the school lunch program’s hype about its lunches being varied, delicious and nutritious is just hot air and the actual lunches themselves – and viewers can see for themselves – are monotonous and consist of highly processed foods with dubious levels of nutrients (to say nothing of what they contain in additives and preservatives) and little if any of the fresh fruits and vegetables they are advertised as having. Along the way he and his fellow students get an early lesson in the power of propaganda to lead impressionable minds astray. He and Lucas decide that the best school lunches are ones they make themselves and carry to school in brown bags.

The film is at once funny and very entertaining, and very revealing about what children at Maxwell’s school have to put up with when private corporations and governments collude to pursue maximum profits by dumping junk … er, in serving school lunch meals to primary schoolchildren. Maxwell’s school may or may not be typical of schools in New York state in supplying such bland and useless lunches. One would hope such films like Maxwell’s should serve as a wake-up call to education department bureaucrats in that state and across the rest of the United States to start supplying more nutritious school meals to primary and secondary school students … but as long as the country hews to an ideology that privileges self-interest, greed and competition over co-operation, and believes that pursuing profit at the expense of the health of young Americans trumps everything else, Maxwell and his friends will have to be satisfied with eating more plastic processed pulp.

The documentary can be seen at this link.

Paris, Texas: a film of isolation and rootlessness that cannot find purchase in a ruthless machine society

Wim Wenders, “Paris, Texas” (1984)

One of American cinema’s finest yet under-appreciated treasures must surely be the unassuming actor Harry Dean Stanton whose acting career reached its diamond anniversary in 2014. Usually cast in supporting roles, here he is employed in the lead role as the amnesiac Travis in Wim Wenders’ road flick “Paris, Texas”, a meditation on isolation, rootlessness, self-discovery and redemption. The thin plot strains credibility and the small cast is sometimes rather workman-like but what it says about the human condition and the particular social environment that has made Travis and his fellow characters what they are is more important.

After four years wandering lost in the desert somewhere in Arizona or New Mexico, Travis stumbles into a petrol station and a doctor there calls for help. The authorities call on Travis’ closest of kin, brother Walt (Dean Stockwell) and Walt’s wife Anne (Aurore Clément), to collect him. Walt brings Travis back in a somewhat roundabout way (involving a detour to a place called Paris, in Texas, consisting of little more than a collection of derelict trucks in the middle of the desert) to his own home in Los Angeles where Travis is reacquainted with his son Hunter (Hunter Carson). Travis and Hunter gradually warm to each other to the point where Travis, determining to find out what happened to his estranged wife Jane (Nastassja Kinski), is able to take the boy with him on a long driving trip from Los Angeles to Houston in Texas. There, Travis makes an unpleasant discovery about Jane and has to decide whether to reconcile with her or not.

The film is long and meandering, and at times it appears not quite focused, as if to mirror its central character’s struggle to understand himself and the most important people in his life, and how his life came off the rails originally. Stanton underplays his part well: his character veers from child-like to adult, gradually opening up and maturing as he re-establishes a relationship with Hunter and then searches for Jane. Stockwell and Clément play their parts well: in their own way, Walt and Anne are as lost in the urban jungle of Los Angeles which in some respects is as much a vast desert as the one where Travis was lost. Carson is appealing as the son caught up in the trappings of modern Western culture, disdaining walking and close physical and emotional contact for the attractions of cars and video-games. But the best (if understated) acting comes in the film’s climax when Travis talks to his wife on the phone at her place of work where she provides phone sex talk to lonely customers: Travis admits to Jane that his love for her became an unhealthy obsession and led to a strong controlling streak on his part that eventually broke up their relationship and which literally sent him into the desert wilderness.

Supported by fine cinematography that emphasises the flat and open expanses of the desert landscapes, the restless society that has put down shallow roots in this environment, and the drawling slide-guitar soundtrack by Ry Cooder that evokes the stark loneliness of the Texan urban and rural worlds, the film follows Travis’ attempts at rediscovering himself, reuniting his family and finding in the reunion of Jane and Hunter the atonement for his earlier misdeeds that will allow him to move forward without guilt.

Admittedly the film can be hokey in parts and the disruption that Travis could have brought to his brother’s family and Jane is reduced to some misgivings on sister-in-law Anne’s part about the possibility of Travis taking Hunter away from her and Walt. The film could have been edited here and there for length without affecting its distinctive atmosphere and low-key style. Stockwell and Clément are not given much to do and their reaction to Travis disappearing from their home, taking Hunter with him, is inexplicably passive. Having reunited Jane and Hunter, Travis purposely leaves them, perhaps forever, to return where he came from or to pursue his dream of finding Paris, Texas.

The lonely life in the dreary Houston suburb where Jane plies her trade is taken for granted; no-one bothers to ask Jane why she had to take up such seedy work, nor why she couldn’t get a better job in LA with the help of her in-laws. The isolation and rootlessness of people; and the culture and its values that encourage people to continually move around, whether to better themselves, earn more money, pursue fame and riches, and which tout individual freedoms in narrow ways that privilege greed and competition, with the resultant loss of connection and intimacy: all are accepted by director Wenders as they are and are never questioned here. Travis might mature enormously during his quest for identity and need for emotional connection but at the end of the film, he is still at a loss of how to cope and deal with a mostly indifferent, ruthless society. He cannot survive in such a world where work and efficiency for their own sake, where people like his ex-wife and his brother’s family are forced to exist as isolated units, and so he voluntarily chooses to return to the desert. How this voluntary return to isolation is going to aid Travis in further self-discovery and maturation – it could also put him in danger of regression into amnesia – Wenders is unable to say and the conclusion seems half-hearted to the point of defeatism.

Shorn of its excess baggage, “Paris, Texas” would still pack considerable emotional punch, though I suppose it would lose its meandering, lackadaiscal pace .

A riveting morality tale of corporate greed, sociopathy and Social Darwinism in “Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room”

Alex Gibney, “Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room” (2005)

A bit gimmicky in parts, especially in its transitions, but overall this documentary on the biggest corporate bankruptcy in pre-2008 US financial history is a riveting morality tale on the astonishing rise of energy corporation Enron and its equally astounding fall. Even with its chronological structure, the film exudes drama and an unreal and rather inhuman energy behind the company’s rollercoaster rise to fame and infamy. I can’t help but think that the company’s founders, executives and traders not only couldn’t believe their luck but also kept on pushing it to see how far they could go without being caught, knowing all the while that the more they pushed, the more likely they would be arrested, the more likely the company would fall – and fall hard. I also wonder if, had I been in their situation, whether I also would have pushed my luck and gambled hard, just as they did, if the money was continually flooding in my direction as a result of my misdeeds.

Enron begins drily enough with its founder Kenneth Lay, the Missouri-bred son of a Baptist preacher man, imbibing the ideology of free markets and deregulation, establishing Enron as an energy company in the early heady days of US President Ronald Reagan’s first term during which he set the ball rolling by sacking striking air traffic controllers campaigning for better wages and working conditions. Lay soon finds willing people to work for him and with him – firstly, two crooked traders engaged in risky trading and profit skimming who brought millions to the company, then later Jeff Skilling, Andy Fastow, Lou Pai among others – and with insider trading, the creation of dummy companies to hide debts, the declaration of profits that haven’t yet been earned and various creative accounting schemes, Enron grows very quickly indeed. Such quick growth though comes with expectations both within and without to do better and bigger, and the corruption begins to infiltrate right through the company culture. Skilling himself institutes a cut-throat culture in which employees are forced to compete among themselves in ever more predatory and pitiless behaviours if only to save their own hides from the sack.

Narrator Peter Coyote provides enough background and framework for the interviewees to tell their sides of the tale. Included among the interviewees is Fortune reporter Bethany McLean, co-author of the book “The Smartest Guys in the Room” on which the film is partly based; she and Enron whistle-blower Sherron Watkins emerge as the heroes of the film. A trader appears repentant as he recounts his involvement in the energy market manipulations that took advantage of California’s deregulation of its electricity and led to the rolling electricity blackouts that resulted in billions of dollars’ worth of real damage to that state’s economy and in various wildfires in parts.

One would think that the rollercoaster ride that was Enron’s history would be enough for this documentary but Gibney resorts to some cheap tricks to pad it out – fortunately the tale itself is compulsive enough that such glitches can be forgiven. The main deficiency of the film is to concentrate mostly on the central figures of Lay, Skilling, Fastow and their fellow rogues; while there is mention of other firms that helped Enron in its criminality (auditor Arthur Andersen being one guilty party that ended up being destroyed by Enron’s downfall), the film fails to address the central problem behind all the corporate shenanigans, this being the corporate capitalist system, the assumptions and values it relies on, the thinking, the behaviours and the particular cultures it generates as a result, and – most of all – the overall political culture, represented by the Bush family (members of which were close buddies of Kenneth lay) and itself shot through with layers of corporate corruption, that encouraged it. Instead there is a bizarre detour into a shallow investigation of Stanley Milgram’s famous Yale University experiments on authority and compliance, with the insinuation that ordinary people – the traders, the middle-level management – in the company are as much to blame as the Enron executives. There is nothing about how the Social Darwinist culture deliberately imported into Enron by Skilling might have created fear among most employees and stoked psychopathic behaviour in others.

What’s even more breath-taking than the corporate crimes is the actions of Lay, Skilling and some other senior Enron executives as they see their version of the Titanic sailing into the iceberg of ruin: they quickly decamp as fast as they can, taking millions in profits and golden handshakes, while investors and employees alike see their money disappear faster than you can say abracadabra.

Before the tying of loose ends and the rolling end credits, the film concludes with a warning from Watkins that what happened at Enron will happen again. It is a timely warning but unfortunately a warning that those who most need to hear it have ignored (as the Bernie Madoff pyramid scheme debacle and the 2008 collapse of Lehmann Brothers demonstrated) and will ignore again.

Hollywood and The Pentagon: A Dangerous Liaison – where entertainment recruits cannon fodder for the military

Maria Pia Mascaro, “Hollywood and The Pentagon: A Dangerous Liaison / Marschbefehl für Hollywood” (2003)

People may be surprised that the United States Department of Defense takes a keen interest in much of Hollywood’s movie output, in particular the industry’s production of war movies, to the extent that the Pentagon has an office in Los Angeles that gives advice to film-makers, vets scripts and makes changes to scripts to portray the military in a favourable light. The military also supplies equipment and provides technical advice to enable film-makers to be as accurate as possible in their portrayal of soldiers in action. But there is a price to be paid in accepting the military’s advice and using its equipment (including hardware): the Pentagon demands that films must show American soldiers as heroic and moral, to the extent that truth and narrative accuracy end up being sacrificed and the results turn into pro-military / pro-war propaganda. This made-for-TV documentary demonstrates that the close relationship between Hollywood and the Pentagon goes as far back as the 1940s at least and that this relationship has a heavy and deleterious influence on public support for the military, reflected in military recruitment of people. The romanticisation of US soldiers in popular cinema conceals real crimes they commit in other countries during war and peace-time: mass murders, rapes, torture and other atrocities inflicted on enemy combatants and civilians, and even incidents like traffic accidents resulting in the deaths or crippling of civilians, with perpetrators more often than not being exonerated by US military courts.

The documentary relies heavily on interviews with military officials who present their side of the issue in a matter-of-fact way, focusing on details of their engagement with aspects of the film industry, that sidesteps the ethics of their involvement. The interviewer does not probe very deeply into what individuals do – perhaps because these people from choice or compulsion would not co-operate otherwise. The film skips around different aspects of the Pentagon’s complicated relationship with Hollywood, ranging from film directors having to agree to Pentagon interference in writing and rewriting scripts and the military’s refusal to provide hardware and equipment if film-makers do not agree to its demands; to Pentagon interest in developing computer and video games that draw on real wars and incidents and reshape them to the Pentagon’s liking; and to the Pentagon’s practice of embedding journalists with troops so that reporters are exposed only to the military point of view. Some famous Hollywood films like Ridley Scott’s “Black Hawk Down” and his brother Tony’s “Top Gun” are discussed as examples where the Pentagon exercised a great deal of influence in changing the script so as to whitewash American actions or suggest that atrocities or incidents of torture are the work of a lone “bad apple” rather than the foreseeable results of a culture of bullying, misogyny, intimidation, the exaltation of violence and an apocalyptic mind-set within the military.

The film is not very structured and viewers have to follow the voice-over narration and the interviews closely to make sense of what they see and hear. There can be a lot of information to absorb and viewers might need a second viewing to digest it all. Probably the creepiest part of the documentary is where a lawyer explains that Hollywood (in particular, Hollywood actors) seems obsessed with its self-importance and the industry imagines it can have more influence in US culture and society by contacting Washington and offering its services. By doing so, Hollywood and Hollywood actors end up prostituting themselves by virtually agreeing to propagandise for Washington’s interests. The otherwise laudable efforts of actors like Angelina Jolie and George Clooney in supporting human rights and advocating for particular issues now take on a sinister sheen.

This film best serves as an introduction to a deep and worrying issue of how closely inter-twined the US government and US military are with the nation’s entertainment industries, and how popular entertainment now serves not only as the dominant propaganda tool but also in shaping culture and society to serve a dysfunctional and psychopathic leadership and its ideology.

Invocation of My Demon Brother: not an essential film to see for Kenneth Anger fans

Kenneth Anger, “Invocation of My Demon Brother” (1969)

If like me, you’ve already seen a considerable number of films by Kenneth Anger, this one won’t add much that’s new to your knowledge: Anger creates what’s basically an extended rock music video with scraps from another film “Lucifer Rising”, shots of bikers, a group of people smoking from a skull and a Satanic funeral ceremony for a cat. Filming techniques such as the layering of images (a constant Anger motif), film speed distortion, placing the camera at odd angles and juxtaposing shots drawn from different sources to suggest a narrative and create unusual connections are combined so as to extract maximum shock and horror, and disturb viewers with intimations of occult evil. Bold red shades are emphasised to invoke Western stereotypes about devil worship. A multi-lens filming approach so as to suggest an insect’s point of view adds an extra sinister impression.

Some viewers will obviously find this film very dark and frightening, especially in scenes where a Satanic high priest flourishes a flag with the swastika symbol: this could very well be Anger in a cheeky mood, knowing that (in 1969) Western audiences were sensitive to the horrors of Nazism and Nazi flirtation with pagan religion and the occult, and so he uses a Nazi symbol in the context of an occult ritual to shock people. The joke is that the ritual is in honour of a dead cat! – in this way, Anger plays with images and their sequencing, and the cultural associations they have for Western viewers, to create a spectacle that makes fun of people’s fears and the things they avoid without understanding why they do so.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the film is the soundtrack, composed on Moog synthesiser by famous Rolling Stones singer Mick Jagger: it ain’t much to hear, to be honest, but it’s probably the most significant work of solo music he’s done in nearly 50 years.

The film is not essential viewing: you’re best directed to Anger’s other works “Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome”, “Lucifer Rising” and “Scorpio Rising” if you want a psychedelic experimental film experience with occult themes.

Citizenfour: a riveting fly-on-the-wall documentary thriller about media, government surveillance and pressures on whistle-blowers

Laura Poitras, “Citizenfour” (2014)

As both fly-on-the-wall real-time documentary and historical thriller, “Citizenfour” is a riveting snapshot of the period in mid-2013 when US whistle-blower Edward Snowden contacted film-maker Laura Poitras and journalist Glenn Greenwald to reveal to them documents he had collected while employed as an IT contractor by the United States National Security Agency (NSA) that demonstrated that the NSA had been conducting a secret illegal surveillance program on millions of US citizens by collecting their telephone data and metadata from various telecommunications and telecom software companies such as Verizon and Skype.

As a more or less active participant in the events of the film, Poitras lets the central characters of Snowden and Greenwald and their actions take centre stage. There is no voiceover narrative but Poitras provides sufficient background information, including a video of US Director of National Intelligence James Clapper lying under oath at a US Senate Committee on Intelligence hearing on information gathering: the video apparently galvanised Snowden onto his personal crusade to expose the fact that the US government was indeed illegally wiretapping its citizens’ phone and online conversations. The  narrative backbone starts from Snowden’s initial contacts with Poitras and Greenwald and escalates quickly into their meeting in a ritzy hotel in Hong Kong in June. There, Snowden introduces himself to Poitras, Greenwald and British newspaper reporter Ewen MacAskill, and show the trio the thousands of NSA documents he had collected while employed at the agency. He arranges with Greenwald to reveal his identity as the whistle-blower through Greenwald and MacAskill’s employer The Guardian in mid-June. From then on, Snowden and the others go their separate ways: Snowden to escape the reach of the US government and find shelter in Russia, and Greenwald, MacAskill and Poitras to spoon-feed information about the reach and depth of NSA spying on Americans and non-Americans alike through The Guardian, The Washington Post, Brazil’s O Globo, Germany’s Der Spiegel and other Western news media outlets. Not only does Snowden fear for his life and those of his family and girlfriend but Greenwald and Poitras also feel the heat from the US and UK governments: Greenwald’s partner David Miranda is held for questioning by police who also seize his luggage at Heathrow Airport in London in August; and Poitras herself has been harassed by US border agents whenever she travels in and out of her home country.

Certainly prior knowledge of the events filmed in the documentary does help to understand the issues at stake but even viewers not familiar with Ed Snowden and what he did that aroused the ire of the US and UK governments against him, Poitras and Greenwald will be concerned at the threats against citizens’ freedoms and rights to free speech and privacy. Other issues that arise in the course of the documentary are dealt with fleetingly: the Western mainstream media concern with celebrities and personalities rather than with ongoing issues of freedom and democracy and how fragile these are (it’s ironic that Snowden and Greenwald discuss this some time before Snowden reveals himself as the mole and becomes both a media celebrity and target for US government ire); Snowden’s own anguish that what he himself is doing is illegal and how his actions might affect his family’s safety; and the law under which Snowden is being charged with espionage is an old law going back to the early 20th century that does not distinguish between selling secrets to a foreign enemy and divulging secret information in the public interest. The film also exposes the extent to which the UK government co-operates closely with the US in gathering information from its own citizens via the same methods as the NSA does from US citizens, and sharing that information with Washington.

There was not much new revealed in the documentary that I didn’t already know about Snowden and his flight to Moscow, aided by Wikileaks, or about Greenwald and his household of 99+ dogs in Rio de Janeiro. Brief entertainment is provided by vanity shots of Snowden preening himself while looking at the bathroom mirror.

On the whole Snowden and Greenwald are presented in a positive way; even Greenwald’s then employer The Guardian itself is shown as a passive but neutral participant in the film. After the events documented in the film, Greenwald left The Guardian to join US billionaire entrepreneur Pierre Omidyar’s news venture The Intercept, along with Poitras and investigative journalist Jeremy Scahill, and The Guardian itself has become a propaganda shill for US and UK government policies and agendas. I think Poitras is rather remiss in not showing that she and Greenwald had started working for a new employer during the making of the documentary as the film’s chronological coverage extends to mid-2014.

From a purely technical viewpoint, the film is well made with a definite narrative that provides the drama and tension that anchor the work and keep audiences’ attention steady until the end.

The Man We Want to Hang: a subjective if not very experimental homage to Aleister Crowley

Kenneth Anger, “The Man We Want to Hang” (2002)

After over 20 years in which he made no films, the American cult underground film director Kenneth Anger released a visual homage to British occultist Aleister Crowley. The homage consists of a tour of drawings and paintings made by Crowley plus other artwork featuring Crowley, all of which were exhibited in The October Gallery in London in April 1998. Several if not most of these works came from British rock musician Jimmy Page’s private collection of art. In common with Anger’s other films, there is no spoken word soundtrack, only more or less continuous orchestral music by Anatol Liadov, and the film is short at just under 14 minutes.

Anger’s camera pans steadily over the paintings and for most of them he zooms in on a particular feature, such as a face, a group of figures, an erupting volcano or a scene within the painting that means something to him and which he wishes to share with the audience. The erupting volcano in one painting ties the whole film to earlier Anger works like “Fireworks” and calls attention to homoerotic themes that often flavour Anger’s films. Of course with the film being soundless, viewers might feel rather put upon having to view the paintings and drawings the way Anger does. There is not much scope for viewers wishing to see and interpret Crowley’s work for themselves. Crowley admittedly was untutored and his style of art is naif; he was rather better at landscape painting with lots of yellow shades than portraiture.

Seeing the paintings in close-up is intended to immerse the viewer in Crowley’s world, to see things the way he might have done (as interpreted by Anger). Though there are objects or figures in the paintings intended to reveal aspects of the Thelema religion that Crowley conceived and elaborated on, there are very few such things (like a group of devils) that appear sinister or malevolent to the adult viewers who see them.

It would have been good if Anger had given viewers some information about the paintings and why he chose to film some works and not others. What was the significance of the paintings for him, did they relate to something that occurred in his life, did they inspire him to do something special … these are questions some viewers may want to know. But it’s not Anger’s style to explain himself or the films he makes: whatever value the audience derives from his films depends very much on what viewers themselves bring to the film-watching experience. That the film is a very subjective one though comes across in one scene in which Crowley’s Law of Thelema, reduced to its first four words, suggests that Thelema is no more than a philosophy of self-interest and self-aggrandisement: the actual Law is “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law. Love is the law, love under will” and is intended to encourage people to discover their true purpose and will in life, free of manipulation and oppression by external actors such as conventional organised religion, governments and institutions working to maintain conformist societies in thrall to unseen and opaque agendas.

As an experimental film in Anger’s oeuvre, this visual montage makes no major demands on viewers and is the quietest and most accessible of the works of his that I’ve seen. The layering of images associated with Anger is reduced to an absolute minimum. He really does love the colour yellow too.

Puce Moment: a nostalgia piece that foresees the arrival of pop music videos

Kenneth Anger, “Puce Moment” (1949)

In the space of just 6 minutes, this short acts as a homage to Kenneth Anger’s grandmother, a dressmaker and designer who owned the flapper-style gowns displayed in the film, and as a nostalgic and whimsical celebration of Hollywood’s silent-film period of the 1920s and the glamour and mystique associated with the major celebrities of the time. In that celebration is a sharp and witty criticism of how far Hollywood had slumped by the late 1940s. This criticism would continue in Anger’s documentation in book form in his “Hollywood Babylon” series that began in 1977. In its idolisation of the silent film era, using no other audio soundtrack other than music (originally music from an opera was used, to be replaced by two pop songs in the 1960s), “Puce Moment” becomes a precursor of the pop music video: music and visual montages are juxtaposed in such a way that the music seems to comment on what the audience sees. The film sequences are arranged so as to suggest a narrative that wouldn’t otherwise exist.

What would merely have been a film of a young woman (Yvonne Marquis) choosing and putting on an evening gown, reclining on a chaise longue that moves of its own volition and later taking four borzoi hounds for a walk acquires a decadent and opulent lushness under the gaze of Anger’s camera. The film focuses hungrily and wistfully on the beautiful dresses and closely follows the woman’s hand fondling various coloured ornaments and glasses, and selecting her jewels. An air of languor and luxury surrounds the lady and the various objects. There is something quite jaded and even ritualistic as if this activity is all the lady lives for.

Originally intended as part of a longer film, “Puce Moment” is at once a fond romantic idealisation of a past era of popular culture and a portent of what was to come in the second half of the 20th century.

Scorpio Rising: an amazing concoction of film collages, music and themes

Kenneth Anger, “Scorpio Rising” (1964)

One of the most amazing concoctions of film collages and music soundtracks, “Scorpio Rising” is perhaps Kenneth Anger’s most famous and influential film. It’s a showcase of Anger’s interest in outsider and gay sub-cultures, homoeroticism, and ritual behaviour and activity that result in transformation usually through the medium of sexual violence and death. The juxtaposition of various visual sequences in parallel can have read into it a connection between and among Roman Catholic belief, the attraction of cults (religious and political) and Anger’s ambivalent opinion about them, the role of ritual in sustaining such cults, and the place of violence and sacrifice in ritual practice that helps to sustain belief and restrain and keep people in their place.

On a basic level, the film follows a young biker, Scorpio, as he customises his bike and lavishes love and care upon it. He later dresses, slowly and carefully, in full biker gear before going to the bar where he and his friends usually hang out. They subject one of their own to a hazing that involves stripping and humiliating him and then possibly raping him. They then engage in a mock celebration of Mass culminating in one of the guys pissing into his helmet and offering it around to his flock. The fun climaxes in a furious bike race in which someone falls and breaks his neck. The police are soon at the scene to cart everyone off to jail.

In amongst all that activity, Anger includes footage from an old Cecil B de Mille film (“King of Kings”) of Jesus restoring sight to a blind man and later mounting a donkey to enter Jerusalem, from which city we know he’ll never leave alive. Photographs and propaganda material showing Adolf Hitler as a saviour figure and Nazi swastikas also appear. It’s as if Anger wants his audience to infer that religious fervour for Christianity and its major figures is no different from Nazi fanaticism and that religion, political cults and youth sub-cultures are as one in celebrating their distinctive rituals, fetishising objects of worship, incorporating violence and death with sexual undertones in their most important celebrations, and using that violence and the transformation of sacrificial victims as a focus for releasing social tension and unease in a world that pays lip service to freedom and individuality but fiercely suppresses both.

About 13 deliberately chosen pop and rock songs of the mid-1960s, all used without permission, make up the soundtrack in a way such that they heighten the audience’s sense that a ritual is underway, that a sacrifice is being prepared and death (and the transformation that it represents) will be the crowning result of both the ritual and the film. The audience plays an active part in interpreting the music and the visuals to draw out meaning that would not exist with the music and the film apart and in isolation from one another. We are very much participants in the ritual when we watch this film.

The beauty (if such a thing can be said) about Kenneth Anger’s films is that they are precise enough and vague enough that audiences can read a myriad of messages that all overlap. One can read nostalgia, a love of dressing, fun and teenage rebellion into the film; darker themes such as uncritical hero worship and the close relation of sexual violence, death and repression also appear.