OPEN CITY
Every so often, (but not that often) a cultural
breakthrough occurs with such impact so as to shatter our previous conceptions
towards art, life, the intersection of the two, and -
finally - how we see everything . Such a breakthrough
is Scopdom Scop's "Fears
Of Flood".
What we have in FEARS, of course, are all the staples
of a typical Scop production: the cripples , street urchins, and other victims
of an oppressive capitalistic-authoritarian society. We have the various
surgical instruments, children in cowboy suits, incredibly bad interpretive
dancing and hand-washing. We have your basic Eisenhower worship and nostalgia
for a time when you could laugh at those with considerably less fortune than
yourself.
But what is extra, what is above the norm in this film
is what makes it, in my opinion, not only one of the best films ever produced -
but also one of the groundbreaking cultural and social artifacts of our century:
akin to Joyce's Finnigan's Wake, Rosselini's Open City, and the Fugs'
Live at the
Fillmore. (What that something extra is, I don't know. And I've seen the damn
thing twice now.)
Imagine Picasso's Guernica as a film. (Imagine I've
just found the italics button on the word program, and I can't stop using it.)
The story opens in a small town somewhere in Middle America. My guess would be
Highland Park, since that's what it says on the police cars. A typical family
involved in the day - to- day business of life, oblivious to all that surround
them except for their own private world of complacency . The family (Jim, the
stoic patriarch; Cindy, the neurotic mother, Johnny...
I don't know what the hell Johnny is, but suffice it
to say he's in bad shape. Of course, there is also the strange case of Martha,
the wacky next - door neighbor. These people form a nuclear family much the same
as yours or mine. (Okay, maybe just mine.) Their lives begin to unravel when the
ominous news bulletins are broadcast foretelling a dangerous storm with
apocalyptic flooding. Thus begins the torturous soul-searching of all the
characters, major and minor, in a gut-wrenching holocaust of guilt, terror,
dread.
Cindy is desperate, concerned about the FLOOD
approaching Highland Park. This starts her psychological snowball rolling, and
Martha drops in with an encouraging thought: " there's a dam between us and
Morganville." The cycle of denial is ever-turning. Cindy worries about her
relief contribution to the church: how much did they give, we have no records,
it was paid in cash. Jim assures her they gave enough ( they will be spared). It
is my observation, however, that Cindy is lost the moment she offers her
neighbor instant coffee...what the hell is that? Jim, in the meantime, ponders
the crisis only superficially, as if it were a mere nuisance- as if to say
"why can't we all die so my wife will quit hassling me about this?"
Johnny's character, however, is the linchpin of the
film. He indeed knows the flood is coming, and his soul is tortured with visions
of needles, vermin, and trouble putting on his pants. (These are, I believe,
three of the seven plagues foretold in the book of the Apocalypse - the other
four being surgical instruments, excessive hand-washing, bad dancing, and cowboy
suits.)
Throughout the film, we are witness to glimpses of an
overseer, a supreme controller in the figure of Officer Barnes. Notice the deity
figure wears a uniform and carries a gun.
"Officer Barnes", the narrator tells us,
"Has never had to use his gun, but always keeps it at the ready." This
is much like the President with his finger on the nuclear button, or the guy who
raises his hand at the end of a three hour meeting when the speaker asks if
there are any questions. It is a volatile, potentially explosive
situation. (Compare this to the eyeglasses symbolism, The Great Gatsby).
Officer Barnes is met at one point by young Gordon,
who informs the patrolman that there is an abandoned bike that's been sitting
unclaimed for days in the vacant lot. He investigates, and indeed pulls the bike
out of the shrubbery in a last ditch attempt to save our innocence. No such
luck. (See Wells' Rosebud.) It is obvious that mankind will now fall, and the
dizzying finale begins to form. I won't spoil the ending for you, but I will say
that it is one of the most satisfying montages since the final confrontation
involving George C. Scott and the porn guy in Paul Schrader's Hardcore.
A final note. Throughout the film we are given a
constant warning, a signal if you will, to wake up and take notice. Much like
Dos Passos' Manhattan Transfer, the blare of emergency vehicle sirens are
pervasive. But we did not heed your urgency. We do not rectify the situation. We
gloss over the problems of this society as if they don't amount to a hill of
beans. We try to buy our way out of feeling, of seeing. Johnny tells his father:
"Next year, we'll send a check."
To quote a prominent religious figure of the late
sixties: You cannot petition the Lord with prayer. Scopdom Scop has presented a
thoughtful, thought-provoking film that peeks into the soft underbelly of the
human condition. The story is not told with pretense, self-righteousness, or
smug superiority......it is just told. We may judge for ourselves. In the end,
to paraphrase another prominent religious figure of the late sixties:
Gentlemen, lets get one thing straight......Scopdom
Scop is not here to create disorder, they're here to preserve disorder. (Italics
mine.)
Alex Rafferty
For more information, send E-mail to:
scopdomscop@aol.com
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