Symbiopsychotaxiplasm: Take One

It's simple.

It's a documentary (or is it?) about people trying to film a scene, and the people filming the scene are themselves being filmed, and Miles Davis is playing consistently in the background, and there's interludes where people talk behind the scenes about the nature of the film they're both in and making - including whether they're actually acting or not, and whether anyone will see the film, and how things may or may not be edited - and all the while, everyone has to deal with various interruptions as well as general existential dread and confusion, and then a very interesting homeless man (or is he?) hijacks the film and it then ends, and then there's an apparent part 2 made almost four decades later.

I might've missed something.

Like I said... simple.

This was recommended by a reader, and I'm glad to have seen it. But that's only because I'm interested in anything that contributes to the vocabulary of folding or self-reference. But I would not recommend this to you as a film experience. It is a clever idea: film acting students in Central Park doing a screen test. The lines they play with are capriciously malleable. Meanwhile a camera documents the events behind the first camera. There's sometimes a third camera as well, and from time to time that camera focuses on a discussion of the crew. They're discussing — with amazing vacuity — the advanced implications of the film.

In other words it is explicitly self-referential in the simplest of ways. There are many more clever folds in the film world, and certainly from that period, so this isn't rare or even novel. It would be something to recommend if all this relatively sophomoric enlightenment had been turned to something that had blood and muscle of some kind.

But it hasn't. Its one tool in a collection of several that have to be applied to the real building material of life. It lacks any of that and isn't a particularly sharp tool at that.

Perhaps Part 2 1/2 will be worth it.

Ted's Evaluation -- 2 of 3: Has some interesting elements.

It would be hard to put a numerical rating on this movie, as it is essentially a movie created inside out, with the `action' being performed by the `actors' as the hard nut on the inside, and the more free-flowing production process as the body of the film – this process being captured on several 35mm cameras rolling continually -- on the outside. Not to say there is nothing important about the `action,' which centers on an arguing couple in Central Park – in fact, there is a certain anarchy of purpose in the two characters' criticism of each other (using pithy, well-worn movie expressions) that mirrors a knowing anarchy in the production loosely watched over by Greaves. The film is open-ended, suggesting that the production process will continue even after the `failure' of more than one pair of actors to claim their roles for themselves. There is something about Symbiopsychotaxiplasm that suggests failure, whether it's the suspicion of the crew that Greaves lacks direction, or the sort of floundering behavior of the actors when they are not reading their lines. But that too is part of Greaves vision. Early on in the film one of the production staff laments Greaves' opacity, saying that the director tends to answer questions with very vague statements that make one wish they hadn't asked the question in the first place. It is this mysteriousness within Greaves (`what is he doing?') that gives the film its skeleton, and makes it much more than simply a Happening in the Park.

I gave this film a three only because it kept me interested enough in watching all of it. The film was an interesting experiment but brilliant? That's a stretch, at best, but for its time a big maybe, perhaps. It's a film about nothing but it is a film that is also filled with egomaniacs, misogynists, wannabes and hangers-on. I saw more talent from the candid crowd shots than I did the cast and crew combined of what the third party film crew was filming when the lens was actually focused or the view finder wasn't fixed at a treetop because someone was holding the running camera under their arm. It was a depressing journey on a continuous loop going nowhere, a carousel of blathering idiotic dialog and smug pseudo-intellectualism. It is an interesting time capsule but it's cringe inducing for any woman to watch. The interesting aspect is how many women were involved in the film crew (as well as the actresses) and not one of them flinched at the blatant and nasty undercurrent of misogyny that flowed throughout which was about the only constant this film accidentally chartered a course on and that was the subsequent impact this film left in its cinematic impact and wake.

After reading the handful of IMDb reviews, I believe the ongoing debate about how well Greaves executed his directorial vision is justified. I do like that I still wonder how much was planned and how much was impromptu. However, I'm not convinced the film makes a point.

What was so much fun for me is Patricia Gilbert's performance. In the beginning of her "screen test", I found her mesmerizing. She's angry, she's loud, she's enraged. Ironically, in a different "screen test", she downplays it, even lamenting when not filming that she thought she'd over-acted prior.

I was surprised by Susan Anspach's appearance. I recognized her from Five Easy Pieces with Nicholson, as well as other projects. It was a welcomed delight.

Although I will be watching this again when given the opportunity, I won't seek it out. I also don't recommend it for those looking for your typical, Hollywood send-up. It's for cinema addicts who enjoy experimental fare.