babypix

Flash! Click! Whoosh! A ring-a-ding-ding open worthy of a rat packer, complete with 1950s starburst and boomerang wallpaper patterns as atmosphere behind the totally nonsensical music. Already we're in trouble here.

The film opens with our hero, a very ordinary husband/actor with a successful radio career, already fully grown; habits established, traumas duly recorded in his psyche. We are then shown how he lives out his neuroses, acting and re-enacting scenarios obviously very counter to his outward demeanor and verbalized values.

OK, the guy likes to watch. Likes to take dirty pictures and was a pioneer home user of videorecording. SO WHAT??? From this a feature film does not make!!!

Unfortunately, Schrader basically eviscerated that which is probably the most crucial and critical to forming the personality who would later engage in all this prurient activity: HIS BACKGROUND.

Seeing as few of us are born with our perversions and actually acquire them, a la R. Crumb, in childhood from mixed and confused psychological messages; then how could Schrader leave out the missing link which would have given motivation to the Bob Crane character?

Don't even get me started about the "accents" of the ersatz Hogan's cohorts--it's hard to believe that in all of Hollywood, actors couldn't be found resembling Werner Klemperer or John Banner who could do a respectable German accent.

Yeesh. When the best thing about the film is the fourth or fifth lead (in this case, Ron Leibman), then something's wrong.

It's really too bad about American Roots Music. So many of us have been aching for an intelligent and comprehensive series on the subject. Sadly, this isn't it. Initially broadcast via PBS, many of the PBS stations didn't even pick it up since it was of such little substance and production values.

Those of us who know much about the subject were insulted, while those who knew little or nothing were confused and disinterested.

The main problem with the series, seems to be it's lack of cohesive focus (jumping back and forth in the first two episodes from decade to decade, from one music form to another, with no effort at providing a cohesive segue linking the information in any way. Secondarily, the series merely glosses over the already acknowledged "stars" of each genre, paying far more attention to some (Flaco Jimenez, himself gets 15 minutes, while the folk music genre gets 20 minutes)and ignoring many, many others altogether.

We feel that the producer's heart was in the right place, but the production was either rushed to take advantage of piggybacking on the success of Ken Burns' Jazz series and companion book, or not infused with enough research and energy to make it move. Weak and poorly written narration presented by Kris Kristofferson (that bastion of Roots Music, himself!?)merely bogged down the already lifeless production. Further adding insult to injury was the frequent interpolation of pastoral scenes of countrysides, static shots of rivers and ponds, fuzzy and irrelevant archival footage. Interview segments with performers like Marty Stuart, Bonnie Raitt, and others, overstayed their welcome as the same sources were shown again and again and again.

With such a rich subject, a zillion good research sources, and a budget obviously adequate to make 4 segments, it is confounding how such a mediocre piece could have made it to air at all.

If you go into this exercise in wretched excess expecting a profound viewing experience, you'll be very upset. Part "Blazing Saddles", part "Love American Style", and part "Candy", this film is a tasteless melange of all that was mediocre about late 1960s filmmaking-- cheesy Bachrach-like score, campy costumes, inept acting, and everyone in search of a plot! That having been said, like a train wreck, it's hard to look away. Although most of the production values in this sleaze-fest are abyssmal, there are occasionally clever comic bits of archival footage inserted for (unsubtle) comic affect. Instead of sitttin' wondrin' why, babe, did they cast Raquel Welch, John Carradine, Farrah Fawcett, and egad, Rex Reed; enjoy the lovely cameo appearance by a young mustache-less Tom Selleck, and annoyingly under-the-top performance by 75 y.o. Mae West. This is what to watch when you've grown tired of singing along with "The Rocky Horror Picture Show"!