Bubbling Wells Pet Memorial Park in "Gates of Heaven" |
GATES OF HEAVEN and VERNON, FLORIDA (Morris, 1978 and 1981)
Criterion Collection, Blu-ray, Release Date March 24, 2015
Review by Christopher S. Long
I believe that “Gates of Heaven”,
Errol Morris's 1978 debut documentary about two California pet
cemeteries, is one of the most profound examinations of the human
condition the cinema has ever produced. Not coincidentally I also
believe that we are all crazy, and I mean batshit crazy in an
infinite variety of ways both small and large. I also believe that
this manifest truth is every bit as beautiful and endearing as it is
inherently tragic.
I suspect that the numerous (and
irritating) critics who charge Morris with being “mocking” or
“condescending” to his subjects just aren't in tune with the
director's simultaneously affectionate and despairing embrace of the
absurdity of human existence. We peer out at the world through tiny
slits in our flesh-covered craniums, attempting to sift a massive
information overload through our meager perceptual filters and make
meaning from meaninglessness. To do so, we need to choose what to
ignore (most things) and what to pay attention to (usually the stuff
that makes us feel best). This winnowing process generally drives us
a little loopy and certainly guarantees we'll get just about
everything wrong, but we struggle along anyway and that's what makes
us so fascinating.
And, yes, a bit ridiculous. Witness
Phil Harberts (above), eldest son of the family that runs Bubbling Wells Pet
Memorial Park in Napa, CA. Phil recently left a job as an insurance
salesman to work for the family business, but he still spouts the
boilerplate motivational dogma that suggests his heart remains with
the corporate world. His blather about the importance of positive
thinking and the clearly defined steps to business success becomes
increasingly absurd, hinting at a philosophy of “Bazooka Joe”
sophistication. Yet he goes on an on, certain he has grasped a
fundamental truth and eager to share it with the world.
But wait. “Gates of Heaven” is
supposed to be a documentary about pet cemeteries. Why, then, does
Errol Morris let Phil ramble on about his half-baked business
theories past the point of absurdity? And what about letting sweet
but slightly incoherent Florence Rasmussen rant for several minutes
about her deadbeat son before eventually getting around, ever so
briefly, to the subject of her dear departed dog Skippy?
The great, great Florence Rasmussen |
Morris is making fun of them, screech the naysayers, and perhaps the director's distinct visual style, intact seemingly from the start in this debut feature, invites such an accusation. Working with cinematographer Ned Burgess (after the tyro director fired the first few brave souls to take the job), Morris fixes the camera firmly on a tripod and frames his subjects dead center, staring almost directly into the camera as they deliver uninterrupted monologues sometimes prolonged enough to feel awkward. The interviewees seem to be mounted on a Petri dish for pitiless study through a lens that magnifies their every flaw.
But I think the naysayers reveal their
own paucity of empathy. The careful observation of human eccentricity
does not imply judgment, only genuine interest. I cannot imagine
anyone watching Florence Rasmussen complaining about her lazy son or
jumping at the sound of car tires screeching off camera and find her
anything but wonderful, wonderfully and eminently human. Phil's pat
theories about how to succeed in business without really thinking are
pretty foolish, but he is not alone in such delusions. Did you know
that there are people who genuinely believe that everything happens
for a reason? It's true, I swear to God! Phil is struggling to make
meaning of the world and doing it all with the puny intellectual
apparatus of a creature one cosmic calendar second removed from
wondering how to make fire. Of course he's going to look silly trying
to talk about the best way to convince other fire-making monkeys to
hand over their cherished green-colored pieces of paper. At least
he's trying, and with gusto. And Errol Morris wants to chronicle his
heroic journey.
Besides, “Gates of Heaven” is
nothing close to a freak show. There may be an inherent absurdity in
memorializing one's departed pet by means of a plaque emblazoned with
a Hallmark-style epitaph, but the sentiment behind it is deeply
serious. This is something would-be entreprenuer Floyd McClure
understood when he set out to create his own, ultimately doomed pet
cemetery. Sweaty, chain-smoking Floyd oozes sympathy from every pore
when talking about the loss of his own collie in an accident and the
fundamental horror he feels at the world's casual treatment of pet
remains. This sets up a truly extraordinary sequence as the film
intercuts from Floyd's gentle commentary to snippets of an interview
with the owner of a rendering plant. As Floyd fights back tears, the
plant owner, speaking of the dead animals processed at his
facilities, can barely keep himself from laughing at how worked up
some pet owners can get: “You get some real moaners on the phone.”
Floyd thinks it's so obvious that
people would want to memorialize their pets he can't imagine anyone
thinking otherwise. The owner of the rendering plant finds the notion
so ludicrous he feels the need to stop and sell his audience (Morris
on set, the rest of us by proxy) on the fact that people get all
upset about their dead pets: it's true, I swear to God!
That's where “Gates of Heaven” gets
at something deep in the human psyche, illustrating the notion that
each of us is just pacing around in his or her own perceptual cage.
We live in our interior landscapes and there's really no outside
access to them, just the traces we can see and hear, and spoken words
meant to bridge the gap, but usually so inadequate they obfuscate
instead.
It's sad, it's lonely, it's a silly bit
of unintelligent design, and it's really quite beautiful to watch
people doing their best to work through it all because, hey, we're
all forced to run the same race, the one that guarantees everyone
ends up in a tie. Morris isn't mocking, he's showing solidarity in
the struggle. From inside my own cage, I can't imagine there are
people who watch this movie and see all of these characters as being
depicted in a negative light. Floyd, Phil, Florence, the woman who
sings in harmony with her dog – I love them all. And I get the
sense that Errol Morris does too.
“Gates of Heaven” wasn't a
commercial blockbuster, but it announced Morris as an important
emerging talent. Passionate advocacy from critics Roger Ebert (who
later named it as one of his ten favorite films of all-time) and Gene
Siskel helped a great deal as did the support of Morris friend and
sort-of mentor Werner Herzog whose bet with the young but unfocused
director allegedly prompted the film to be made in the first place
(more on that in the Extras section below). His follow-up was thus
widely anticipated.
“Vernon, Florida” (1981) didn't
quite match up to the director's stellar debut but it can hardly be
deemed a sophomore slump. Morris doesn't tap as deep a vein this time
around, but he finds his share of interesting subjects. The project
initially started with Morris's investigation into insurance fraud in
a small town known only as Nub City for the high concentration of
people who “accidentally” blew off an arm and/or a leg and cashed
in with insurance claims. Morris soon learned that these highly
motivated entrepreneurs weren't keen to discuss their wily though not
particularly repeatable scheme, and after getting beaten up and
driven off, he returned to the title town to talk with some of its
four-limbed residents.
Vernon's philosopher king |
I'm not going to rehash the mockery argument again save to say that the usual accusers might have a better case with “Vernon, Florida” than they did with “Gates.” The Vernon residents are an odd lot with an awful lot of time to kill in this tiny panhandle town. There's the local philosopher king who intently studies a discount jewel he just bought before admitting he has no idea what he's supposed to be looking at. There's the ardent hunter with such an intense turkey fixation that he hears gobbles from behind every bush and remembers the story behind every tiny turkey beard he has mounted on his trophy wall. There's the preacher who delivers a sermon on the etymology of the word “therefore” that sounds even more asinine than any of Phil Harbert's business advice.
The film courts an inherent risk in its
series of portraits of rural eccentrics that will be mostly viewed by
city folk, but there's little evidence in the movie of any editorial
judgment. Perhaps we do gawk at some of their manners, but people who
devote themselves to their various obsessions are just inherently
funny while doing it. You are too, I promise. Henry Shipes, our
full-time turkey hunter, is genuinely passionate about his calling
and the excitement he expresses while recounting each and every one
of his signature kills really brings him to life even if the viewer
scoffs at the possibility of glory in the gross mismatch between
human with rifle and turkey with giblets. Once again, Morris is
interested in what makes his subjects tick and he finds that the best
way to capture it on film is simply to let them talk and talk and
talk some more. It's a technique he would continue to refine over the
course of one of the most remarkable careers in the past four decades
of American cinema.
Video:
“Gates of Heaven” is presented in
its original 1.33:1 aspect ratio, “Vernon, Florida” in its
original 1.66:1. Both new digital transfers were supervised by Errol
Morris and create din 2K resolution. They really look great. The
thick grainy look makes a few longer shots look a bit lacking in
sharpness, but that's really not a problem at all. This beats the
heck out of any previous release of either film.
Audio:
Both films get a linear PCM mono track
which is perfectly suited to the straightforward job of presenting
crisp, clear dialogue. Not much to say here. Optional English
subtitles support the English audio.
Extras:
Criterion has included both films on
the same disc, each accessible from the main menu. Under each film
title, you can also access the features relevant to each movie.
Morris originally worked as an
assistant to Werner Herzog on his 1977 masterpiece “Stroszek.” As
the story goes, Herzog tired of young Morris complaining about his
inability to secure funding for his own movie and bet him that if he
could make a film then Herzog would eat his shoe. Morris actually
denies remembering the bet or that it played any inspirational role
in his making the film. However Werner Herzog is not a man who
reneges on a bet; as publicity for the festival release of “Gates
of Heaven” Herog indeed ate his shoes (first preparing them with
garlic, Tabasco, and onions) and the historical event was recorded by
director Les Blank in the aptly titled short “Werner Herzog Eats
His Shoe” (1980, 20 min.) It's a great short that Criterion already
included on their release of Blank's “Burden of Dreams” but is
now presented here in high-def. As a companion piece, we also get a
brief excerpt of Herzog promoting “Gates” at the Telluride Film
Festival: “You can make films with your guts alone!”
We also get a new interview (2014, 19
min.) with Errol Morris. It is absolutely fantastic and he responds
to the charges of mockery with an apt summation of what I wrote above
(before watching this interview!) about embracing absurdity and the
basic desperation of life.
“Vernon, Florida” is accompanied
only by another interview (2014, 12 min.) with Morris in which he
talks about the genesis of the project.
The package includes a fold-out insert
booklet with an essay by critic Eric Hynes.
Final Thoughts:
You know what's really crazy? Morris's
first two films, a one-two punch most filmmakers would kill for, did
not launch a successful career. Unable to earn a living in film,
Morris spent several years in the '80s working as a private
investigator. Fortunately that turned out to be the perfect training
ground for the movie that truly would set him up as a full-time
filmmaker, 1988's “The Thin Blue Line” which Criterion has also
released the same week as these two movies. Along with the director's
“A Brief History of Time” this brings Morris up to an impressive
representation in the Criterion Collection. Here's hoping more are on
the way.
No comments:
Post a Comment