I've been MIA for a while, taking care of the various radical changes that have happened since my brother was diagnosed with some sort of evil tumor. I'm way, way behind on disc releases as expected, and I'm attacking a couple right here, right now. First up is the bang-up job that Criterion did with 1995's Crumb, directed by Terry Zwigoff.
The movie itself, for those unfamiliar, is a fascinating portrait of underground comic artist Robert Crumb, his family, and his various obsessions. It's always touchy saying that you love a film whose subject is a major weirdo like this guy is. I've always perceived him to really relish the opportunity here to expose his particular perversions and peccadilloes, though he's denied this for years out of feigned modesty. He has a very deeply-rooted anger at the "nuclear family" version of the American dream, as well as the corporate interests he sees driving the destruction of society as we know (knew?) it. He's got some really far-out beliefs when it comes to sexuality, and they're on display in all of his work. The question that the documentary keeps begging is "what the hell does 'normal' mean, anyway?". Crumb a classic in its genre and, in my opinion, cinematic history. It has spawned countless imitators since its release and I'm sure there are a handful of docs premiering at festivals in the next year that try for the same brass ring.
The naysayers who have ranted against a Blu-ray transfer of Crumb on the grounds of "merit" are out of their minds. Especially for a movie like this one, shot on the cheap with 16mm stock, Blu-ray really delivers the "fresh print" experience in a home viewing environment. The previous Sony DVD wasn't so good in the picture department, but it did have a solid commentary with Zwigoff and Roger Ebert, preserved on Criterion's release. Even as the documentary market has exploded due to the drastic reduction in production costs, I stand by my feeling that Crumb is still one of the great American documentaries ever made.
A couple of weeks ago, I had the chance to sit and chat with John Pierson about Crumb and various other unrelated things. I dropped him a line mostly because he and his wife Janet Pierson are two of the best first-person sources of perspective on the indie film world of the mid-90's.
John is often credited as the Producer's Rep on Crumb, but his involvement essentially ended when his and Janet's dear friend Lynn O'Donnell (the producer of the film) took ill and the executive producers moved things in a direction that John didn't jive with.
John and Janet had a TV show called Split Screen, whose third episode actually features a look at Terry Zwigoff's home life in a similar way to how Zwigoff looked at his pal Crumb. I just watched a VHS tape that John loaned me the other day, and it makes me wish Split Screen were purchasable in some form of another.
Sitting at a Kerbey Lane Cafe in downtown Austin, John slid a list of the eight documentaries that were exhibited theatrically in 1995, which included Crumb. He started to say something and the waiter interrupted to take our orders. He went with the "Chipotle Grilled Cheese Sandwiches", which sounded irresistible, so I dropped my plans for "Chicken Soft Tacos with Black Beans and Avocado". The waiter took the menus and John continued without missing a beat, saying that "pre-digital", only about 80 docs would even be made in a year (let alone released), and every single one would get submitted to Sundance. With a one in ten shot, why wouldn't you?
The doc market was less lucrative, partly due to cost and partly due to less interest from distributors. On the flipside, the difficulty of getting one made limited your competition. There were probably tons of amazing ideas that were never made because they couldn't get financed, and Crumb very nearly was one of those unborn projects, just as all others were.
The $200,000 that it took to make a doc, any doc, back then, John told me, was just not easy to come by, no way no how. The deal that the Crumb folks were offered by Sony Pictures Classics back then was around the same $200k that was put into it. People would kill for an offer like that in today's doc market. In the 94/95 era, they had to radically re-adjust their expectations, because the filmmakers were stuck on their perception of the market for the film.
They knew that there were 70,000 fanatics who would buy prints of any new work from the pen of "R. Crumb". They calculated what a theatrical run could make in their heads based on that. John and I agreed that it's unquestionably a great film, but they rather unrealistically expected a great deal more than they made it for. It was a good deal then, and they almost said no. Everyone who loves good movies should be glad that they did take the deal that they perceived beneath them, because who knows what would've happened to the movie at that point, in a world before VOD or the 3000 specialty cable channels we have now.
John posited (and I agreed) that, compared to the fifteen years of theatrical and TV docs that have followed it, you still don't see something quite as pure or unique as this film nor it's spiritual sibling Grey Gardens. I told John that most of the output these days feels so selling point-driven as to feel completely inauthentic. He countered that that's been part of selling these movies all along, but conceded that things have gotten out of control with gimmickery being the only selling point of many docs. I thought to myself how the words I'd just spoken reminded me of Jean Renoir's assertion that documentary film was the falsest form of cinema, due to its pretense of being unvarnished "truth". John brought up how the cheaper production costs have brought us docs that are far longer and more indulgent than they should be. I asked "how so?"
John then jumped us back in time again to the days of the mid-90's, when most "feature documentaries" entered into Sundance were 60-70 minutes tops. None of this 2-hour stuff. They were lean, mean, and the best among them were as piercing as sharpened kitchen knives. On top of that, they were a perfect length for TV airing on HBO or PBS. He then brought up the fact that American filmmakers in particular seem to have this aversion to cutting their material to hit that "hourlong, TV length" sweet spot, which is infinitely easier to sell, repackage, and get seen. Everyone is in love with the idea that their subject is better than that, and they're so in love with their own material that they won't make the cuts that'll make it better.
I offered that the disconnect is rooted deeply in American culture. This is the exact opposite of what we see in the UK, where television content is honored by the same Academy and awards ceremony that honors theatrical films each year (BAFTA). I went further, saying that there's this perception, which is being beaten back each year, that TV is less prestigious or worthy than something that screens in a barn-like single screen to empty houses for two weekends in Los Angeles. American filmmakers can tell mom "it was seen by dozens of people in a theatre", and that bizarrely means more to them than "millions saw it on broadcast last weekend."
What followed that was an off-the-record (for both of us) discussion of docs we each felt would have worked better had the filmmakers forced the "shorter is better" restriction on themselves. We talked about docs we really enjoyed in addition to ones that we felt were so close to greatness they could taste it.
The only reason I mention that shrouded-in-mystery bit of back and forth here is that I'd challenge anyone reading this to question their feelings about docs they've really enjoyed over the last ten years.
Ask yourself, "would I be more likely to re-watch 'Film X' if it were a bit more to-the-point?", or ask "would it have been easier to convince my relatives and friends to watch this had it aired on TV?". Of course, that second point runs us into the issue of finding channels that wouldn't break up the pacing of a doc by plugging in commercials for dish soap at each 15-minute mark, but that's another ball of wax...
I would have recorded and transcribed the chat, but that wasn't the vibe of the day. I was getting to shoot the shit with a guy I've admired and respected since I was in grade school,
Back to the subject of the now week-old Criterion DVD & Blu-ray, they have added a newly-recorded commentary track done by Zwigoff. There's a fair amount of repetition of info from the Zwigoff/Ebert 2006 track, but I found it well worth the time thanks to the unique anecdotes included. On top of that, there's the theatrical trailer in HD and around half an hour of unused footage. It has widely-varying picture quality, but for fans of the film, it is worth the purchase price alone. There are select bits of Zwigoff commentary on an alternate track on the unused footage, but it is very sparse, and only found on certain clips. Amazon's got the Blu-ray for $29.49, but DeepDiscount's just-begun 45% off sale makes it a solid $21.97.