Ring that Bell, kill that Flower: Review of 'Bellflower'
Let me pre-empt my own review by saying, no matter what I write below, if you are an indie filmmaker, you will want to see "Bellflower". You will be stunned by what the filmmakers were able to accomplish with very little budget... STUNNED.
Now, to the review:
I always like to see movies and be a part of movies, films, theater, any sort of art that has a 'point'. I will admit, right off the bat, it was hard for me to see the 'point' of Bellflower-- but I kept watching to find one-- and THAT, I think, is what makes this indie film watchable... but, admittedly, for me, barely.
Bellflower opens with two friends discussing the apocalypse. They speak of it with a yearning in their voice, as if they are somehow willing it to be achieved in their own lives. There is something magical, to them, about the end of the world-- that is the place, we are quick to understand, where these characters are the most comfortable.
Then we devolve into the mastery of the despair of their lives. I would say, if I lived the life of Woodrow and Aidan, our protagonist best pals from their youth in Wisconsin, I too would prefer the world ending to anything in it. They drink copious amounts of fermented beverages: for breakfast, lunch, snack, heck, they practically brush their teeth with whiskey; they don't have jobs, or any appearance of jobs (Woodrow, on a moments notice, drives to Texas to get bad roadside food); and their circle of friends is exceedingly limited. to be short, they live in a heat box, depraved little bubble.
But where the characters are depraved and the plot somewhat useless, is where you see the glorious inventive nature of the filmmakers, most notably writer/director Evan Glodell: he modified a mercedes to have a 'whiskey dispenser' in the dash. He really did that... and he shot this film for $100,000... something I had to keep reminding myself.
The film is incredible to watch. the images are beautiful, just sublimely beautiful. If it's a motorcycle ride down the blurry highway, or a flame thrower showering fire into the night sky-- every moving still of the film is composed so richly that even when the acting and writing are stubbornly lost; the imagery and the threat of potential danger and destruction around every corner keep you tuned in.
As mentioned, the acting could use some direction. Glodell, though a clearly gifted road warrior OC chopper wanna be (with fire and whiskey), who can build his own cameras, eat crickets and somehow find a way to superimpose a mushroom cloud into the hills around LA on a shoestring budget; is no writer of dialogue and no director of actors. It was fairly obvious that every scene was ad-libed, which gave all players a calm and natural affectation, which worked in simple conversations and small flirtations-- but when the prime emotional moments or higher end melodramatic moments were to play out, it seemed like a bad acting exercise. One actor and character, in particular, Mike, was completely devoid of any personality-- and the fact that Woodrow's much adored girlfriend, Milly, cheats on Woodrow with him makes his inability to portray anything north of sullen all the more glaring. Some of those scenes are a quick way for anyone involved in performing arts to want to get punched in the nose and vomit out the day-old meatloaf of the bad acting (watch the film, you'll get the reference).
But this film isn't about the acting, or the dialogue at all-- it's about fire, and apocalypse and two guys, in fact a whole group of losers, stuck on a single idea... what is life about beyond simply ending?
And on that level it completely works. I still can't believe how it was shot and filmed and how Glodell and his counterparts built not only the cameras and the whiskey car, but a flame thrower and a flame throwing car. The film reminded me a bit of 'American History X', or 'A History of Violence' in its cringe worthy violence after almost every scene. and unlike the woeful, "Drive" and the nameless Driver, who had a rage issue over a girl he'd just met; Woodrow's rage is more believable. He giggles like a girl through the whole first half of the film; and you get the feeling that no man who builds flame throwers giggles like that unless he's trying to hide something in himself more sinister. When that sinister comes out, we're not surprised; we're just... ugh... shuttering and covering our eyes, waiting for which method of crazy he will decide to take.
As the film concludes and Woodrow has truly slipped into a dark expanse of his own world ending (I promise, I won't ruin it...), the scowl affixed to my face wasn't in total disapproval of the film (though, again, I'll admit, I'm no lover of random violence); it was in... 'how the heck did we get here?!' It's not that the story didn't lead us there, it is that the series of unhappy accidents and over-drawn reactions of people searching for something more drove us there.
Finally, what made me continue to watch the film, through the violence and the vomit; is that after living in Southern California for a decade, I can say with sure honesty that I know people like that living that life... or on the verge of that... lost in the wasteland of the valley, not sure what they're doing or why they're there. They deal drugs or had a t.v. deal at some point so they have money to sit on and they just... are... without purpose, without meaning... LOST. And at the end of the gory day; THAT is what makes this film so disturbing, sad, in it's way brilliant; and... gives it a point and a purpose beyond depraved violence where so many other films of the genre stay.
So I predict right now "Bellflower" you may forget, but we certainly have not see the last of Evan Glodell. And you can quote me on that.
Now, to the review:
I always like to see movies and be a part of movies, films, theater, any sort of art that has a 'point'. I will admit, right off the bat, it was hard for me to see the 'point' of Bellflower-- but I kept watching to find one-- and THAT, I think, is what makes this indie film watchable... but, admittedly, for me, barely.
Bellflower opens with two friends discussing the apocalypse. They speak of it with a yearning in their voice, as if they are somehow willing it to be achieved in their own lives. There is something magical, to them, about the end of the world-- that is the place, we are quick to understand, where these characters are the most comfortable.
Then we devolve into the mastery of the despair of their lives. I would say, if I lived the life of Woodrow and Aidan, our protagonist best pals from their youth in Wisconsin, I too would prefer the world ending to anything in it. They drink copious amounts of fermented beverages: for breakfast, lunch, snack, heck, they practically brush their teeth with whiskey; they don't have jobs, or any appearance of jobs (Woodrow, on a moments notice, drives to Texas to get bad roadside food); and their circle of friends is exceedingly limited. to be short, they live in a heat box, depraved little bubble.
But where the characters are depraved and the plot somewhat useless, is where you see the glorious inventive nature of the filmmakers, most notably writer/director Evan Glodell: he modified a mercedes to have a 'whiskey dispenser' in the dash. He really did that... and he shot this film for $100,000... something I had to keep reminding myself.
The film is incredible to watch. the images are beautiful, just sublimely beautiful. If it's a motorcycle ride down the blurry highway, or a flame thrower showering fire into the night sky-- every moving still of the film is composed so richly that even when the acting and writing are stubbornly lost; the imagery and the threat of potential danger and destruction around every corner keep you tuned in.
As mentioned, the acting could use some direction. Glodell, though a clearly gifted road warrior OC chopper wanna be (with fire and whiskey), who can build his own cameras, eat crickets and somehow find a way to superimpose a mushroom cloud into the hills around LA on a shoestring budget; is no writer of dialogue and no director of actors. It was fairly obvious that every scene was ad-libed, which gave all players a calm and natural affectation, which worked in simple conversations and small flirtations-- but when the prime emotional moments or higher end melodramatic moments were to play out, it seemed like a bad acting exercise. One actor and character, in particular, Mike, was completely devoid of any personality-- and the fact that Woodrow's much adored girlfriend, Milly, cheats on Woodrow with him makes his inability to portray anything north of sullen all the more glaring. Some of those scenes are a quick way for anyone involved in performing arts to want to get punched in the nose and vomit out the day-old meatloaf of the bad acting (watch the film, you'll get the reference).
But this film isn't about the acting, or the dialogue at all-- it's about fire, and apocalypse and two guys, in fact a whole group of losers, stuck on a single idea... what is life about beyond simply ending?
And on that level it completely works. I still can't believe how it was shot and filmed and how Glodell and his counterparts built not only the cameras and the whiskey car, but a flame thrower and a flame throwing car. The film reminded me a bit of 'American History X', or 'A History of Violence' in its cringe worthy violence after almost every scene. and unlike the woeful, "Drive" and the nameless Driver, who had a rage issue over a girl he'd just met; Woodrow's rage is more believable. He giggles like a girl through the whole first half of the film; and you get the feeling that no man who builds flame throwers giggles like that unless he's trying to hide something in himself more sinister. When that sinister comes out, we're not surprised; we're just... ugh... shuttering and covering our eyes, waiting for which method of crazy he will decide to take.
As the film concludes and Woodrow has truly slipped into a dark expanse of his own world ending (I promise, I won't ruin it...), the scowl affixed to my face wasn't in total disapproval of the film (though, again, I'll admit, I'm no lover of random violence); it was in... 'how the heck did we get here?!' It's not that the story didn't lead us there, it is that the series of unhappy accidents and over-drawn reactions of people searching for something more drove us there.
Finally, what made me continue to watch the film, through the violence and the vomit; is that after living in Southern California for a decade, I can say with sure honesty that I know people like that living that life... or on the verge of that... lost in the wasteland of the valley, not sure what they're doing or why they're there. They deal drugs or had a t.v. deal at some point so they have money to sit on and they just... are... without purpose, without meaning... LOST. And at the end of the gory day; THAT is what makes this film so disturbing, sad, in it's way brilliant; and... gives it a point and a purpose beyond depraved violence where so many other films of the genre stay.
So I predict right now "Bellflower" you may forget, but we certainly have not see the last of Evan Glodell. And you can quote me on that.
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