Dignity is Not For Sale: In Praise of BASTARD ART

I'm not entirely sure when Sex Gang Children and their charismatic leader, Andi Sex Gang, first came into my life but ever since, the magic and texture behind this man has entranced me. Often sounding like the exotic love child of Bowie and Brecht, but firmly remaining to this day his own man and artist, Andi Sex Gang is undoubtedly one of the most underrated figures in music. All of that despite his band charting repeatedly on the UK indie lists in the 80's and then going on to work with the legendary Mick Ronson. (The latter must have felt invigorated to work with someone truly unique,vital and not expecting him to rehash the Diamond Dogs blues.) 

The journey of any artist with bone-bred integrity and an unwillingness to whore is going to be a rocky one and Andi is no exception. Luckily for us all, his life and musical journey has been covered in one hale and hearty documentary, BASTARD ART. Before getting to watch this film, I was just excited to know that someone took the time and energy to cover the man. After watching this film, I was excited to know that a guy like Andi Sex Gang is featured in a well made, lovingly researched and incredibly accessible documentary. It's the perfect mix of being thorough and surprising enough to woo the hardcore fans but pieced together in such a way that it will lure anyone unfamiliar with Sex Gang Children.

In BASTARD ART, we get to see Andi go from a little boy with a natural instinct for song writing and singing to a squatter in the punk scene. In fact, it was his friend from that same scene, George O'Dowd aka Boy George, that gifted the band name, Sex Gang Children, to him. (A name undoubtedly with origins from music savant Malcolm McClaren, who had worked with a pre-Culture Club George.) From there, we get interviews with former band mates, friends and musical peers. But most importantly, we get and receive a bounty of interview footage from the man himself, Andi Sex Gang.

He is the star of the show, not just because he is the subject matter, but because his natural charisma, smarts and sheer will of survival draws you to him. There are performers that are good artists but have rocks for personality but that is far from the case with Andi Sex Gang. The amount of bowling balls this man has had to jump, ranging from bad music deals, facing fake criminal charges that ranged from rape to carrying explosives and an industry that acts more like the ravenous center in the lake of ice in Dante's Inferno, is harrowing. Weaker souls have been eaten by that very machine, but weak is not a word associated with ASG. Scrappy and tenacious, absolutely, but not weak.

Director Vince Corkadel, who has worked previously with both Andi and Sex Gang Children, has a lot to be proud of here. The key to any truly great music related documentary is having the music paint the right picture over the canvas of information. For me, there are few things more frustrating than a documentary about a musician that features little to none of their music. It would be like watching a bunch of people talking about a painter and never showing even a scrap of one of their paintings. Beyond frustrating, but BASTARD ART is a film that thankfully does not suffer that fate. 

As far as pacing goes, it's tight and flows very well. There are zero lulls and it does exactly what this type of film should do; leaving you wanting more and wanting to devour more of the great art featured. Safe to say, BASTARD ART is one of the best documentaries to have come out in the last few years. What's inspiring about this is that guys like Corkadel and Larry Wessel (ICONOCLAST, featured here) have proven that one can make a vital and culturally rich documentary while sticking to a true independent, DIY approach. This is no Miramax or Sundance indie, which is safe in its bigger budgets and often homogenized layers. Instead this is a film born out of pure love, determination and years of hard work and research.

No matter what labels people will throw on the works of Sex Gang Children and Andi, none can ultimately stick, proving not only the folly of “genres” but also the folly of trying to box in an artist you love. A guy like Andi Sex Gang, who continues to be as prolific and active as ever, will set fire to that box, and like a pale faced shaman with a mind of darkness and heart of light, will continue this fight of life. And nowhere is this ever more present than in BASTARD ART. 

www.bastardartfilm.com

Copyright 2012 Heather Drain

A Fragment in Charcoal & Smoke: Flame Schon's DOPE

When you hear the phrase, “swinging 60's,” more than likely there are very specific images that come to your mind's eye: mini-skirts, rock music, free love and pop art, but time cannot and should not always be measured with such obvious landmarks. Capturing the many shades of a sliver of time is never as easy as it seems, especially when it comes to such a flux-filled decade as the 1960s. There's a lot of darkness in the day-glo, something that is beautifully evident in Flame Schon's (nee Diane Rochlin) and Sheldon Rochlin's rare 1968 documentary, DOPE. 

Before I delve into this, immediately push out any preconceived notions you have about what a documentary is supposed to look and sound like. DOPE is a film that uses experimental film making techniques to paint a true picture of both its subject, an kohl-lined gamine from New Zealand named Caroline Thomson and the dirty thumbprint of an era. A friend of such artists as the stunningVali Meyers, Caroline was residing in the heart of late 60's London when DOPE was shot. On the surface, this film documents the journey of this young child-woman and her growing love affair with heroin. While we definitely do get a peek into her habit and the fragments of her everyday life, DOPE is much more than that. 

 Caroline.

 

For starters, there is the disjointed audio, with bits and pieces of rock music weaved into the regular soundtrack of sonic noise and words, creating the effect akin to trying to talk to someone at one loud and intense party. With any other film, this would be highly annoying but here it lends itself to giving a more accurate feel of what life was like for Caroline and her friends. Some will get annoyed by this and feel like they could be missing an integral piece of information or emotional character insight. That's probably true, but keep in mind that one's whole life and history can be built upon half-heard conversations and words that are instantly up to re-interpretation once they are out of the mouth. This technique is honest to Caroline's experience. Sure it won't work for every documentary. Just imagining anything by Ken Burns as brought to you in mumblecore vision is maddening, but here it works fine. 

The gloriously unique, Vali Meyers. 

Also, there's a whole underlying tone about the growing national fear and awareness of drug use, whether it is assorted newspaper headlines involving drug busts or Caroline and her roommates watching a television special entitled “An American View on LSD.” In addition to the audio, there are some very colorful editing choices, including some really good superimposition and an overall kinetic visual rhythm that lends a fragmented, almost dreamlike feel to the proceedings. (Even when the dream has burned edges all around it, which is perfect for a film whose subject matter involves heroin.) 

  Throughout the film, we see Caroline go to rock concerts, art shows, trying to hustle a coin collection for money, shoot up and then sort of toy around with the needle like a kitten. One of the final shots shows her dancing to “In the Midnight Hour,” leaving the film on a strange and sad note. The image of Caroline, now looking almost ghostlike, dancing in front of a dingy mirror, as if the midnight hour in question is referring to her uncertain, death-tinged future is one the most effective in the whole film. 

 In the midnight hour.

Music, being one of the biggest heartbeats of the youth culture scene in the 1960's, is a strong underlying thread. The use of it at times is almost accidental, whether it is Caroline and her friends fiddling with the radio, resulting in a cut-up version of the Beatles' “Paperback Writer” or early on, where we can hear her sing, off-camera, along to the Alan Price version of “I Put a Spell on You.” The latter's breathy and real person tunelessness lends the film more authenticity than any of the multiple shots of people shooting up. 

DOPE is a fascinating peek into a harsher side of a scene that is typically portrayed as all dandyfied rock stars, Mary Quandt skirts and Mars bars. While it lags a little towards the end, it is, as a whole, a colorful and honest time capsule of both Caroline's life and the pop culture of London during that time period. Speaking of which, there are some brief shots of such artists as Marianne Faithful and Pink Floyd featuring Syd Barrett, so it pays to keep your eyes open. 

 

The likelihood of DOPE getting an official DVD release is pretty much slim to none, but thanks to director Flame Schon, you can get a copy for the price of manufacturing and shipping. For more information, check out her website; http://www.dopethemovie.net/

© Heather Drain, 2011