A New York (altered) state of mind

Ahh, Viva N.Y.C., that mammoth metropolis so glamorized in all its sightseeing grandeur care the crooning of Sinatra or the limitless lionization in the plenitude of snapshots birthed by oceans of tourists.

My own experiences within the city’s walls were largely given to epic wanderings throughout a sensory overload of blending cultures and characteristics. It was the streets and their expansive catalog of occupants that attracted me most. I understand that for many the key value is to be derived from the Broadway showboating and world-famous landmarks that probably piqued their interest enough to travel there in the first place.

Hey man, to each his own and all that good stuff. You can have your statues of liberty and Radio City Music Halls, just gimme a nice bustling street corner with a grounds-eye view on the hectic masses, the more colorful the better.

The same holds true when it comes to approaching the city from the perspective of the documentary film. Sure there are many strong chronicles of the historic properties and linage of this biggest of apples (Ric Burns' massive New York: A Documentary Film being a prime example) alongside 9/11 retrospects both reverent and conspiratorial (uh, Loose Change anyone?). But what has begun to catch my movie junkie eye are a growing number of docs geared toward the study of many of the more challenging and far less tourist dollar friendly aspects of N.Y.C. life.

I would like to thank my local (Appleton) public library for taking the initiative to stock several of these films. Without this eclectic aspect to their film collection I may never have stumbled upon such gems as:

Style Wars (1983) - a time capsule centered around the subway graffiti epidemic from the early 1980s. Dueling artists seek to express their souls and attain street dominance over one another by coating the subway cars of New York with frantic, multi-colored murals that helped define said era as well as incur the wrath of (then) mayor Ed Koch. The film details its rich subject through solid interview footage with artists and those who vehemently oppose graffiti and, in turn, label it vandalism. Directors Henry Chalfant and Tony Silver are most careful not to pander to or stereotype their subjects or treat the scene as a simple novelty. A raw, honest piece of archival cultural journalism which can help the viewer find the artistic nutrition in what is commonly brushed off as a dirty ghetto practice.

End of the Century (2003): Charting the lifeline of the ultra-lauded standard bearer of the N.Y.C. punk rock scene, The Ramones. The film (crafted by Michael Gramaglia and Jim Fields) plays faithful the band-bio conventions and all major career highlights are touched on. Still, it proves fascinating to watch as these awkward kids cobble together a ragged band that evolves all the way through the usual rock star trappings (drugs, chicks, tour fatigue, ego-induced line up alterations) to attain icon status. Interviews with members both living and now (sadly) no longer populate the running time and provide enhanced insight into the hows and whys that made this band tick in its' own certain way. To say it is a must for the diehards (and not just the mall kids that wear that “one” Ramones t-shirt...you all know who I mean) would be tragically overstating the obvious, but for the uninitiated it is a vital primer on the heart and evolution of a pivotal segment of New York musical culture.

Dark Days (2000): Director Marc Singer had discovered a network of people in a makeshift community in a series of abandoned tunnels beneath the city that stretches from Penn Station deep into Harlem. Singer gained the trust of many members of this populace and developed the concept of a film detailing their existence. He spent time as a member of the tunnel commune and formed a crew out of some of his fellow dwellers. Production and assembly of the film dragged for several years as Singer clung to complete independent control and financing came and went. The end result is equal parts haunting and liberating, as the people in the tunnels reveal themselves as much more than impoverished artifacts. The goal of the project was to raise awareness of this unique variation on the homeless dilemma in America as well as generate financial aid to help better their situation. The film has a bold grainy look that maintains the impact of the subject matter in a way no slick prime time expose could ever achieve. Soundtrack by D.J. Shadow.

Lastly, we have The Gods of Times Square (2000), a DIY masterpiece of preachers and perverts, saints and sinners, though the line is not always so clearly drawn. Pieced together over a six-year span in the waning days of the old, seedy and far less conventional (pre-Disney-fied) Time Square area. Gods is the love child of one Richard Sandler who camcordered a time when the rants and revelations of the manic, mad and sanctimonious ruled the day. Bouncing fearlessly from one striking persona to the next, Sandler runs the gauntlet from fanatic spirituality in all its guises (Christian, Buddhist, Scientologist, Muslim and so on) and touches on the hot spots of racism, sexism, sexuality and the nature of a higher power. There's sure to be a tirade to amuse and/or offend just about anyone.

The Gods of Times Square stands as the chief representative of the heart of my rant this month as it gives the most extensive and addictively revealing documentation of the sheer volume of character (for better or worse) at large on the streets of this exhaustively exciting city. Filmmaker Sandler encounters a rich resource of human beings so of themselves in their brutal honesty and maddening convictions that it is impossible to put your attention elsewhere.