MONDO HOLLYWOOD
Photojournalist/documentarian Robert Carl Cohen had filmed in Korea, China, and Cuba before he decided to turn his focus to the world of Hollywood. From 1965 to 1967, Cohen recorded the day-do-day lives of about 25 Los Angeles denizens in an attempt to capture the spirit and lifestyle of that time and place in contemporary American history. After production, Cohen then allowed the subjects to help shape their portrayal in what would ultimately become MONDO HOLLYWOOD by recording narration and assisting the editing of their particular sequences. It was an ambitious venture, but there was no telling back then what it would end up being: an unconventionally objective look at the cultural hotspot of mid-'60s California, and a prime example of a documentary's ability to capture lightning in a bottle.
Cohen had a great idea when conceiving MONDO HOLLYWOOD, which was to spread his focus around a vast array of highly varied subjects. He said that his only criteria when looking for people to film was that they be interesting and "out there," and the characters that pepper his film certainly fall into both categories. There's the aging actress who was undeterred by a traumatic accident and keeps her career alive on the stage. An anti-drug hippie/health nut named Gypsy Boots raises his family off the grid. You have a 2nd generation millionaire living in a garage for 10 bucks a month and spending his time hanging out on his private Malibu mountain with his pet monkey. An L.A. Chamber of Commerce official regularly hobnobs with celebs and filmmakers as part of his job. And so on. Each story is a microcosm of '60s Hollywood, and it's very easy to get caught up in their various lifestyles. These people are all likable, or at the very least, interesting, and we get a nice wide glimpse of the city through their eyes.
You remember that bit in FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS where Duke/Thompson talks about the '60s, how "no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world"? He was talking about San Francisco, but I think that sentiment could apply to several places of that time period. Swinging London. The Factory and the rest of downtown New York City. And certainly Hollywood.
Thompson's words may be true, but I have an inkling that Cohen has come as close as you can to presenting the sights, sounds, and vibes of that long-ago era by simply filming what he saw, not what he wanted to see. The counterculture of the '60s was obviously at odds with the status quo, so neither side did a good job of presenting the other's case objectively. Cohen straddles the line better than the vast majority of filmmakers who've tackled the '60s, and ends up revealing pros and cons of each lifestyle he examines. The young yearn for purpose and identity amongst the disapproving establishment, and the old struggle to maintain grace and understanding as the world around them changes.
The film was banned in France at the time of its release for its presentation of drugs and homosexuality, but neither is explicitly shown (a brief segment on a Hollywood Boulevard transvestite is about as far as it goes sexually). Having said that, there is a ton of talk regarding L.S.D., generally with a sense of fascination and optimism that is quite anachronistic. These are the early days of acid, where the good vibes associated with the drug hadn't yet been cut down by the brown acid at Woodstock and a generation of "drop outs". Longtime Timothy Leary associate Richard Albert (yes, like the character from LOST) gets his own segment where he teaches a bunch of impressionable youths about the benefits of the drug (in an outdoor classroom, of course). It's like watching Clive Owen's cocaine usage on THE KNICK, or the MAD MEN folks smoking their brains out; the ignorance and innocence of a time before, as Thompson said, "the wave rolled back", and the list of what was deemed okay by societal standards shifted against certain folks' favor. Still it's nothing that seems remotely controversial (at least to rational adults), and it speaks to the film's sensory impact that it became the equivalent of a Video Nasty despite having very little objectionable content.
After the film, Cohen paraphrased the old notion that every film, narrative, experimental, or non-fiction, is a documentary about its own production. This film is a testament to that. Cohen may not have known that Hollywood of 1965 was a world apart from the Hollywood of '55 or '75, but thanks to his efforts, the unique signature of that moment in American history is preserved forever in this film. It may not have the refinement of contemporary docs, and it doesn't have the snappy energy of D.A. Pennebakers work, but it is stunning, colorful, and pleasingly intimate due to the brave decision to let the subjects help shape their own segments. It's a daring work that time has been kind to, and I'm glad Cohen got to see his film presented to a cinema audience presented by one of the most esteemed filmmakers of his generation, Paul Thomas Anderson.
MONDO HOLLYWOOD was a late addition to the AFI programming, which apparently was prompted by P.T.A. himself as his idea of a perfect intro for...
INHERENT VICE
P.T.A. said that he used MONDO HOLLYWOOD as a reference point for his cast and crew when filming INHERENT VICE, but Anderson's film takes place in 1970, not the mid-60s. The hippie movement has already hit its apex, but the Nixon age hadn't yet completely taken its toll on the momentum of the counterculture. Drugs, sex, and madness flew around L.A. with a careless abandon, but more and more souls were getting swept up and victimized in the fury. Caught right up in this mix, this cross-section between the a happily hedonistic and the carefully refined, is the licensed P.I. (and occasionally actual doctor), Doc. And INHERENT VICE, for better or for worse, puts you right in Doc's shoes, and shows you his world more or less how he sees it…to be specific, not all that clearly.
Doc's lounging in his beachside pad smoking his umpteenth joint of the day when his ex, Shasta, shows up for the first time in years. She's got a story about a rich sugar daddy named Wolfmann who's paying her bills, Wolfmann's angry wife, and the wife's lover. The latter two want Shasta to help pull a fast one on the old man for his fortune, but she's got reservations, and wants Doc to help her out by looking into . Almost immediately after, a Black Panther named Tariq asks Doc to track down his old prisonmate Glen Charlock, now a bodyguard for a real estate developer. The developer just happens to be Wolfmann, the same sugar daddy who's been paying Shasta's rent (upon hearing this, Doc promptly scribbles "paranoia alert" into his notepad). From there, Doc is set on a weed-addled foray into various arenas of L.A. life, from the cultish rehab clinics, to the seedy outer-limits brothels, all the way up to the mansions and everlasting pool parties of the well-to-do. And right on his ass the whole time is a persistent flat-topped cop/wannabe actor affectionately nicknamed "Bigfoot."
I think you're going to hear the word "incoherent" associated with this film a lot, but don't assume that's an attack on the work. Like with THE MASTER, we are experiencing the narrative through the eyes of Joaquin Phoenix's substance-laced character, and a ton of details fall into the cracks of Doc's hazy psyche. I don't think the convoluted plot is that far removed from the confusing narratives of THE BIG SLEEP, THE THIN MAN, or many of those classic snoop yarns, but this one is even harder to follow because of the unreliable protagonist; even when Doc does have an idea of what's happening, he doesn't communicate it beyond indecipherably muttering it to himself and scribbling illegibly in his notepad. I thought I was keeping up with the plot fairly well until my wife asked me to clear it up for her on the way home and all I could reply with was "Uhhhhhh…." And I, unlike several of those I spoke to afterwards, was never, ever bored, or even noticeably perplexed, and I think it's because the windy plot of INHERENCT VICE lands exactly the way P.T.A. intended…that is to say, very confusingly.
Character, rather than plot, is the center ring of this circus, and this film feeds you more interesting personalities than any P.T.A. film since MAGNOLIA. I went into the film thinking that the film would function as a buddy movie with Phoenix' P.I. and Josh Brolin's hardass cop working together. That's not the case, but Brolin's Bigfoot is the second lead of the film, and the begrudging mutual respect each party has for the other is a consistent source of humor and energy throughout. Brolin's slightly typecast as the no-nonsense blowhard with the crop-top and the DRAGNET diction, but there are a number of scenes with his character that go quite oddball, and I can't imagine anyone else pulling them off as well as he. Faces like Michael K. Williams, Reese Witherspoon, Eric Roberts, Jena Malone, Owen Wilson, Timothy Simons, Maya Rudolph (Anderson's real-life significant other), and a painfully underused Benicio Del Toro cruise in and out of Doc's line-of-sight as he digs deeper into Wolfmann's orbit, each one representing another aspect of Nixon-era L.A. There's a madcap sequence with Martin Short that many (including, I must admit, myself) proclaim is the most fun stretch of the movie, and it's really hard to deny the shot of adrenaline Short's flamboyant mugging brings to the proceedings.
But it's Phoenix who's in every scene, and whose character dictates the way the film is presented to us, so it's a good thing he delivers another MASTER-ful transformative performance. Rocking mutton chops, shaggy hair, and a getup that immediately made me kvetch that I hadn't seen the film prior to Halloween, Phoenix mumbles and stumbles his way through this labyrinthian tale as a true stoner would, verbally present but dubiously receptive. Make no mistake, this isn't any sort of BIG LEBOWSKI rehash: there's a human warmth in Doc that reveals itself in his opening conversation with Shasta, an his desperation when he feels the walls closing in is palpable, while still being hilarious. He's also able to go to dark places El Duderino certainly wouldn't abide by. Like The Dude, however, Doc's able to function as both the straight man and the goofball, and it's pretty great watching him bounce off the top-notch cast, particularly Brolin and Del Toro. The performance is the centerpiece that all of INHERENT VICE hangs on, and Phoenix carries his second P.T.A. film with style, grace, and the pitch-perfect cadence of a "doper."
This is a pothead-detective movie set in L.A. of the '70s, so naturally there are vague shades of THE LONG GOODBYE and THE BIG LEBOWSKI, but make no mistake, this is its own monkey, largely due to P.T.A.'s direction and Phoenix's committed-as-usual performance. The film was shot on 35mm by Robert Elswit, and unsurprisingly, the film looks amazing, capturing the sunshine and dust of Los Angeles in an appropriately retro fashion. The title card is accompanied by Can's "Vitamin C," and the whole soundtrack is predictably excellent, getting the groovy vibe across without leaning on any of the standby 70's-movie tracks. There are a ton of cool aspects I could get into, like the consistent use of long takes or some of the great moments unfortunately ruined in the trailer, but in the end, I think you just gotta see it for yourself. The inscrutable nature of the narrative dooms the film into the "love it or hate it" category, and you won't know which side you're on 'til the end credits come up.
I'm decidedly on the "love it" side. For me, it's another slice of amazing from Mr. Anderson, and a worthy addition to his near-incomparable filmography. Looking forward to seeing it again when it comes out next month.
