Gummo
A dystopian tragedy set in the gloomy suburbs of Ohio. In a world where girls gaffa tape nipples, a skateboarding rabbit-boy is king of the road and Harmony Korine sits behind the camera, the ride is sure to be bumpy. The film opens with a timid recollection of a tornado; houses were blown down and humans were destroyed according to the narrator who dominates the washy visuals. The film descends into a masquerade of dialogues, performances and silences contributed by junkyard dogs, and white trash. The story is assembled loosely around two young glue sniffers who shoot stray cats for chump change. They prowl the streets by daylight, showing mercy only to the collard kind. Korine creeps the pavements, dragging his audience through a fowl mouthed and murderous rampage of life and death on the streets. A fan of Julien Donkey-Boy, I personally find the filmmaker to conjure a most original style and quality. The seemingly random interview-esque monologues by characters who have nothing to do with the linear tales are deeper and more meaningful than those in most epic productions. Two days after watching Gummo, I saw The Science of Sleep and after an hour and a half I felt almost nothing towards Gondry’s cast even though I had so much more in common with them. Korine’s ability to abstract reality and build perception in a matter of moments is fantastically underestimated. Two minutes of a chubby albino lady on a hood give more insight and profundity than ninety minutes of Gondry’s technical masturbation. Admittedly, Gummo is a difficult film to watch, the amateur acting and convincing cat drowning is enough to put off most. The sludge scraping soundtrack that accompanies the movie is almost a statement to it. Disturbing, intriguing and something you need to be prepared for.
Copyright Daniel Emmerson 2008 all rights reserved
