With marketing slogans such as “the underground comic book” you could be deceived into venturing into Ghost World with notions of saturated colour, tight Lycra clad main characters, questionable names and a heavy emphasis on visual style. It might be worth remembering the underground part of that slogan, because if you haven’t treated yourself to the delights of Daniel Clowes 1997 green and black graphic novel of the same name and are expecting some epic comic drama, you’ll be sorely disappointed.
If however you want sharp characterisation, dark wit loaded with sarcasm and a healthy dash of misanthropy, all packaged within a loose plot of angst and alienation, ending with a dessert of non-existent happy-ending, you’ve arrived at the right film. Oh, and you’ll still get your silly names (Enid Coleslaw? Rebecca Doppelmayer?)
Terry Zwigoff (previously known for his 1994 documentary Crumb based on the life of a comic writer) and Daniel Clowes - two middle aged men - at first seem the wrong candidates to accurately portray the strains and gradual dissolution of a young female friendship. But perhaps that universal knowledge of the detritus and boredom that is teenage life enables them to just about nail it, and in turn makes Ghost World as a whole entirely relatable for both males and females. But as far as screenplays on this subject go (and the market is saturated with them, Rushmore and American Beauty to name but two), this has got to be one of the funniest and wonderfully gloomy things to come in film for a long time.
Enid (Thora Birch) and Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson) are best friends, freshly graduated from evil high school and now set forth on the inevitable journey between school and “real-life”. They have it worked out – they’ll get jobs and live together. But when the apathy of summer (and, certainly in Enid’s point of view, apathy of life generally) dawns, things start to get complicated between the pair. Complicated in the form of middle-aged bachelor Seymour (Steve Buscemi) who they initially just want to torture. But with the appearance of Seymour, the most unlikely “romantic” subplot in film history comes to life and he unwittingly becomes the eccentric fascination of 18 year-old Enid.
This subplot remains very loose throughout the film – as does much of the narrative. This said, connoisseurs of Clowes original comic will come to realise there is a lot more narrative in the film than the book. In fact the so-called romance subplot doesn’t exist in the book and has clearly been written in to satisfy your regular cinema-goers. I think it’s fair to say, had Zwigoff decided to make this into a truly faithful adaptation, you wouldn’t feel for the characters half as much.
As Enid, Rebecca and later, Seymour, wander aimlessly through the streets, it’s not any sense of plot or end destination that keeps the film moving, it’s the unending stream of hilarious conversations and deadpan expressions, along with a jingly, simultaneously meandering soundtrack, that keep you hooked. We can almost guarantee you won’t be able to see or predict the ending (clue: if there is one) of this, but you’ll appreciate the ride none-the-less.
At one point in the film, a character drawls how they are going to “get a job in some big corporation, and f—k things up from the inside”, and perhaps this sets the undertone for the entire film. Immersing itself entirely into the world of the alternative, with a clear love of obscure vintage music, trinkets and art, Ghost World actively aches to be as anti-Hollywood as possible. Zwigoff doesn’t try to be cool. He doesn’t try to wedge it into any avant-garde genre. In fact, as soon as Enid becomes what ordinary people would perhaps imagine as alternative (it’s probably safe to call it the mainstream alternative with bright green hair, leather jacket and Buzzcocks soundtrack) she is mocked and ironically feels entirely out of place.
American life and Hollywoodisation in general takes a mocking. Commercialised, shrill radio presenters take a punch – “I feel like I’m being jabbed in the face” as Seymour poetically puts it. Cool people take a punch. People who try too hard to be cool take a punch. Elitist art takes a punch. But it’s all delivered in such a hard, blunt manner without apology that you’ll fail stifle your laughter, and perhaps your agreement. You can’t help but approve of the direct and disturbingly truthful observations of the characters.
Enid genuinely doesn’t fit into a “model” – from scene to scene her complete style changes. One minute she’s wearing a bright coloured comic t-shirt, the next she’s wearing a tiny leopard print skirt and a fluffy headband. Enid herself begins to represent the whole films need to avoid all your preconceptions of teenagers and angst. You could go as far as saying it explores what identity really means – and through Seymour, asks us if we ever find our true identities. Do you know who you really are and where you’re heading?
The fact that Zwigoff has steered entirely clear of alternative cliché is what makes this so successful and appealing to a wider audience. There is no scent of a desire to build in some high-speed, MTV style editing that’s become so popular among the younger generation, or boring and inevitable love scenes. In terms of cinematography and aesthetics, Zwigoff has stayed true to a traditional tableaux style film that is fast going out of fashion and has instead made the narrative and beautiful, antique misé-en-scene the primary focus.
The Enid’s and Seymour’s of the audience can enjoy the Indian dance music, bluntfully truthful and quotable lines, constant irony, mix-matched fashion sense and interesting trinkets in the background; and hopefully feel a sense of belonging. The Rebecca’s are welcomed to enjoy an unconventional look at the world without being alienated completely from it.
All performances are admirable. Thora Birch, fresh from winning a number of awards for her performance as another detached teenager in the previously mentioned American Beauty (1999), ultimately turns Enid into a particularly unlikable character with her overt misogyny, obvious lethargy and at times, utterly selfish behaviour. But underneath, Birch keeps Enid a simple human who seems scared to properly grow up, something that certainly the target audience of alternative teenagers and young adults will identify with. Birch successfully acts with chameleonic tendency, constantly switching between deadpan humour and animated hilarity (for example during a hysterical scene where she drags an unexpecting Seymour into an adult store).
Indie persona Steve Buscemi, well known from cult classics such as Reservoir Dogs (1992) and Fargo (1996), also gives a stand out performance as lonely Seymour, who works in complete sync with Birch’s Enid. Seymour is probably the most likeable character in Ghost World, and ironically, the one not in the original graphic novel. Buscemi retains the idiosyncrasies you will previously know him for – the ultimate resigned pessimist. His Seymour is so clearly resigned to his own loneliness that he comes to symbolise everything Enid wants – a certain ‘coolness’ without even trying. He has a certainty of his own identity, whether he likes his identity or not. He’s a dork who knows he’s a dork; a “jazz loser” who knows (or at least he thinks) he’s a “jazz loser”. “You are the luckiest guy in the world!” exclaims an awestruck Enid when introduced to Seymour’s jazz room, filled with obscure jazz records, framed photographs and antiques. As a result of the certainty he has of himself he disputes this, arguing “you can’t connect with other people, so you fill your life with stuff”. Seymour is just as much a social commentary in himself as anything else.
Visually placed side by side, the quirky looking Buscemi and unconventionally beautiful Birch look so mismatched that funnily, they almost match, slotting together like the oddest puzzle pieces of the set. The dizzying Hollywood looks of Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise pale into infinite insignificance when you experience Ghost World. They are real-looking people in a weirdly realist film for the real people.
Fittingly, Johansson’s Rebecca is arguably the most conventionally attractive character, and conventional in every other sense. She becomes the bridge between alternative world and “ordinary” world with her desire for a steady job and her own apartment, but maintaining the faint drawl and misogyny of her best friend. Rebecca is the least exaggerated character. Johansson plays her with such an understated everyday vibe that you’ll probably want to be best friends with her yourself.
Ghost World should be a success – whether a success commercially or just as an indie is unclear. Coming after all your other American archetypal teen movies like American Pie where sex and virginity jokes are the order of the day, Ghost World is refreshing in every way. This isn’t a teen film about high-school popularity, or where losing your virginity is your ultimate goal – it extends its net further. It’s a teen film that is reconciling the teenage audience and the adult audience, beautifully and (in the end) sadly dealing with more adult estrangement in the wide world outside school. Sooner or later you have to grow up, and doing this in a media obsessed consumer society, is no easy task.
So, if you want to see Buscemi briefly get his girl, or just want to feel less alone in your own meandering meaninglessness, see this film. Perhaps more than once.
Note: This is a review I submitted for BA coursework and it has been written as though the film has just been released.
No comments:
Post a Comment