The Saddest Music in the World

'The Saddest Music in the World' is a kind of pastiche of 1920s film-making, with interspersed scenes in cod-Technicolour; but to really give a flavour of its oddness, I should say that it's the tale of an amputee brewery heiress with a pair of glass legs, filled up with beer (writer Kazuo Ishiguro borrowing from one of his own novels in the story of how she lost her originals). In truth, this is a very silly film, but it's almost a triumph, in that the silliness is controlled, with every crazy scene is consistent in tone and adding to the bizarre atmosphere. But it's hard to assert that the movie amounts to much more than a demonstration that it was technically possible to make it - it can't be taken seriously, and it's not really funny (rather, it's the sort of film that only makes you laugh because of its audaciousness in what it dares to pass off as comedy). But you certainly won't see too many other movies like it; and director Guy Maddin makes brilliant use of the heart-shaped face of Maria de Madeiros, which he makes look as if it really has just heard the saddest music ever.

Guy Maddin just gets better and better. In this, his latest film, he's outdone himself. The fusion of content and style is so brilliant, clever, and emotional, the film has to rank as one of the best of 2004 even with the year not yet being half over.

Set in 1933, "the depths of the Great Depression", the location is Winnipeg, Canada, home of Lady Port-Huntly (Isabella Rosselini), the astoundingly wealthy beer baroness of Canada, who decides to hold a contest to select the saddest music in the world--for business reasons, of course. Among the entrants are her former lover, Chester Kent (Mark McKinney), his current lover Narcissa (Maria de Medeiros), Chester's estranged brother Roderick (Ross McMillan)--separated from Narcissa, and the men's father, Duncan (Claude Dorge). Duncan represents Canada; Chester, America; and Roderick, Serbia (of all places).

The prize is $25,000, a fortune in those days, so naturally there are entrants from all over the world--among which are Mexico, Siam, and Africa. The music is inspired, but eventually converges on the lilting popular American tune The Song is You, for which there are diverse renditions in the course of the film. The show-stopper is the version by Chester near the end, a big band production that fuses influences, in typical American fashion, from all over the world.

Familial tensions converge with unrequited love, and with the most peculiar prostheses anyone has ever seen--either in real life or on film. Lady Port-Huntly is a double amputee, and he whose reckless mistake resulted in her unfortunate current condition fashions for her a pair of legs that must be seen to be believed.

The entire film is shot using a blue-haze filter, with a faux stereopticon effect that narrows the viewing screen to that resembling what one would see from the early days of film, and with the faintest, subtlest and tiniest of lags in action-speech synchronization that makes this uncannily resonate as a work fusing a 30s setting, a pre-20s style, and a contemporary sensibility that knows how to combine these elements in the first place. This is a truly brilliant--I would even call it genius--approach to filmmaking that noone else in the known world even remotely approaches. Maddin is one of the contemporary masters of cinema and this is the proof.

As soon as this is available on DVD, I will buy it immediately. I suggest you do the same.

What could only be titled as Cinema of the Ridiculous, Maddin's latest masterpiece, about a no-legged beer queen who hosts a Winnipeg-set competition to see which nation has the saddest music in the world, is filled to the gills with wacky ideas, but the reason it's a great film is because of the heartfelt feeling behind it. Maddin's genuine love for the silent cinema that he emulates (and attachment to the pathetic characters he creates) makes it possible for him to sustain a comic tone without it ever becoming mocking.

Maddin manages to balance the grotesque comic caricature of Mark McKinney as the shady mustached businessman who tries to win the competition, and Maria de Medeiros, who gets life advice from her tapeworm, with the pathetic goth character that's McKinney's brother, who's had to deal with the loss of a son, and the glamorous Isabella Rossellini, who's had to deal with the loss of her legs. (I wonder if the fact that Rossellini lost her legs in a car accident caused by her performing fellatio is a nod to the Myth of Murnau.) There's almost a subliminal melodrama taking place with the theme of loss and hilarious depression (during The Depression). It's an exciting movie visually, but unlike the best of the silents that Maddin loves, it's not poetic in that slow, beautiful way -- it's too fast-paced, kinetic, and rough to achieve any sort of traditional beauty -- but it is a feast. The few scenes of gaudy color -- reds, blues, and odd flesh tones -- are as grainy as the black and white. Maddin is truly one of the most imaginative of directors and he has a firm grasp of the medium. In fact, there is at least one scene of slow, beautiful poetry -- a purely silent moment, near the end, that comes alongside the bloody murder of Rossellini's screams. 10/10

Don't be scared away by people who warn that this movie is too difficult or bizarre. This film will appeal to more than just the usual cabal of obscurantists and nerdy cultists. The plot is quite straightforward: a depression-era beer baroness commissions a contest whose aim it is to find the saddest music in the world. As a result, scores of zany musicians from around the world descend on frost-bitten Winnipeg to win a $25000 prize. Hilarity ensues.

That's not to say the movie doesn't have its fair share of the absurd, the bizarre, and the dark (it *is* a Canadian film, after all). Lines are delivered with strange inflections, characters' motivations are screwy, filmic styles are mixed. None of these, however, comes off as pretentious or forced.

The film explores the interesting paradox that despite the reality and ubiquity of real sadness, authentic expressions of sadness are difficult and rare.

The credits rolled last night at 11:50 PM at the Sunshine on Houston Street in NYC.

Outside the theatre, I glanced up at the box office board: There was another viewing at 11:55 p.m. I impulsively bought another ticket and saw it again.

This is one of the funniest, most original and absurd movies I have ever seen. I feel like I can't believe I've actually seen it -- waking up dizzy at 2 PM today on a Saturday and pondering this movie.

All I remember is the wonderful music, the great one-liners, and those fanciful legs. Oh, for legs such as those!

Everyone must be forced to sit through this film as punishment for watching any television, ever.

Isabella Rossilini should be so proud of forging through the offers of banal roles and accepting roles such as this. It is not a surprise that the same actresss who allowed David Lynch to strip and bruise her in Blue Velvet would embrace such a role as Port-Huntley. If you're sad, and like beer, she's your woman!

The audience last night was howling with laughter and delight at the absurd and brilliant lines in this movie. There was so much to like about this spectacular musical.

But most of all, there were those intoxicating legs.