All posts by Gregory J. Smalley (366weirdmovies)

Gregory J. Smalley founded 366 Weird Movies in 2008 and has served as editor-in-chief since that time. He is a member of the Online Film Critics Society, and his film writing has appeared online in Pop Matters and The Spool.

CAPSULE: THE MAN WHO WASN’T THERE (2001)

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DIRECTED BY: Joel Coen, Ethan Coen

FEATURING: , , , , , Tony Shalhoub

PLOT: A stoical barber develops a plan to blackmail his wife’s employer, which spirals out of control.

Still from the Man Who Wasn't There (2001)

COMMENTS: The Coen Brothers began their career in film noir with Blood Simple (1984), and much of their subsequent work has either referenced or revolved around noirish themes. Blood Simple, alongside Fargo (1996) and No Country for Old Men (2007), are classic neo-noirs in rural settings. Non-noir offerings like Miller’s Crossing (1990) and Barton Fink (1991) still feature doomed, alienated heroes and challenging ethical dilemmas, and even The Big Lebowski (1998) flirts with noir themes with its complicated crime caper in an LA setting. But The Man Who Wasn’t There is their one take on the classic formula: post-war period setting, chiaroscuro cinematography, carefully-planned crime that goes horribly wrong, moral corruption, and a flawed protagonist increasingly resigned to his dim fate. Who wouldn’t want to see the brothers give their straightforward take on film noir, with all the moralistic nihilism that implies?

The plot is a classic noir knot: a “simple” act of blackmail leads to a pair of unintended murders, which leads to the wrong person being put on trial, which, in a roundabout way, eventually leads to misplaced but ironically appropriate justice. Our antihero, Ed Crane, is a disaffected barber who is only slightly more engaged with the world than Mersault. He tolerates his job; he likes his wife and their passionless life together well-enough, even though he suspects she may be cheating on him. His descent into crime happens on a whim, to garner investment funds after hearing a pitch by a dry-cleaning entrepreneur. He’s a man of few words, except when it comes time to deliver expository voiceovers.

In some sense, there isn’t a lot there in The Man That Wasn’t There. Although there are twists, the plot often drags, like Ed Crane’s own mundane suburban life. But for a single bad decision, Ed would not have left much of a mark on the world: he would have glided through life silently cutting hair and smoking cigarettes, dispassionate and content to watch life slip by. He’s a barber by profession, but it’s just something he drifted into; really, “that'”barber” is too much of an identity for him. As he says, he “just cuts the hair.” In the course of the film, he develops exactly two passions: once, his brief interest in dry-cleaning, and a more substantial interest in the teenage daughter of a drunken customer (it’s not what your dirty mind is thinking; he’s charmed by her faltering rendition of a Beethoven piano sonata). Both times, his sudden engagement with the world leads him to unwitting tragedy.

The Man Who Wasn’t There is, mostly, a solid, authentic rendition of the classical noir style. It only departs from the 40s formula in a few particulars. Homosexuality is acknowledged and plays a role in the plot; Ed’s slightly inappropriate fixation on Birdy also crosses a line that would have barely been hinted at by the previous cinematic generation. Further, the film is more obviously and artily existential than its forebears. The Coens humorously reference Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle (absurdly, Ed’s trial lawyer wants to make it the centerpiece of his defense), which presages their more thorough exploration of the enigma of Schrödinger’s famous feline in A Serious Man. Finally, the movie’s weirdest element (perhaps its only weird element) is the mysterious usage of UFOs as a metaphor for…. something (modern man’s futile search for meaning in the universe?) But these eccentricities hardly depart much from the source homage, making The Man Who Wasn’t There a satisfying throwback to a simpler age, when people were more complex.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a curious mix of tragedy and humor filmed in stark black and white… succeeds in establishing a mood of existential absurdity..”–Robert Roten, Laramie Movie Scope (contemporaneous)

(This movie was nominated for review by Lee Taylor. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

CAPSULE: GIRL INTERNET SHOW: A KATI KELLI MIXTAPE (2023)

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DIRECTED BY: Kati Kelli

FEATURING: Kati Kelli

PLOT: Selections from Kati Keli’s surreal, satirical YouTube channel mixed into a feature film, plus her only completed short, “Total Body Removal Surgery.”

Still from "Girl Internet Show: A Kati Kelli Mixtape" (2023)

COMMENTS: It’s not the first thing Kati Kelli uploaded to YouTube, but the most accessible entry point to this bizarro YouTube creator’s world is “Marva the MILF,” a 14-episode series that works as recognizable satire. It’s the only strain where Kelli plays a consistent character, a 50-year-YOUNG unapologetic golddigger and would-be glamour influencer in a blonde wig wearing too much bronzer. Cluelessly arrogant Marva refers to her audience as “babies” (or sometimes “fuglies”) and complains about her daughter ignoring her beauty advice because she (eye-roll) “wants to be herself.” Marva even stays in character while jumping on the ASMR trend: while tapping her fingernails as she mimics applying mascara to the viewer, she whispers “I’m not sponsored, I’m just a big fan… I always blow hubby’s money on this brand.”

But that focused character is a big departure from the usual inventory of her “Girl Internet Show” channel, which quickly turned manic when Kelli discovered the joys of Adobe After Effects suite. Future, non-Marva episodes quickly went techno-maximalist, with hyper editing, text flying about, shots of social media feeds, Kelli’s head swelling into a bulbous monstrosity, altered film speeds, random musical accompaniment, cartoonish sound effects, gif bluebirds circling her head, miscellaneous filters, stock photos of broccoli zipping across the screen, and basically any kind of embellishment that seized her short-attention-span fancy. Sure, she still mocked the vapid self-absorption of overly-dramatic V-loggers and beauty influencers, but the satire was more of an excuse for relentless experimentation and absurdity than the meat of her vegan aesthetic. Episodes might be anything from a fashion show to a commercial spoof to a fake confessional to relatively sedate entries like Kelli gyrating maniacally while holding a glass of wine or wearing a skull mask, playing a ukulele, or shaking a ragdoll to simulate dancing while singing monotonously. The entire “show” is shot in a single apartment, often with her pop-surreal, occasionally obscene artwork displayed on the walls; when it’s necessary to add another character, Kelli simply dons a wig, or incorporates a Barbie doll. (She does have, at least, the assistance of an unseen and uncredited cameraperson—and a housecat.) It doesn’t hurt anything that Kelli is conventionally gorgeous, with luminous olive-green eyes, full lips, and a model’s figure, which only makes her choice to specialize in completely uncommercial culture-jamming media hit harder. And although her comedy is mostly of the absurd non-sequitur variety, she gets across the occasional zinger, as when describing her multitudinous mental maladies, she muses, “I’m also diagnosed as being an amazing kisser… actually, by the same psychologist who diagnosed me as having daddy issues.”

Kelli also made a parody of Spring Breakers featuring only Barbie dolls.

Kelli’s final completed piece was the short film “Total Body Removal Surgery,” a Kickstarted project which was not posted to YouTube (it’s the only truly exclusive content included on the Vinegar Syndrome Blu-ray). Although Kelli plays a new character named “Tippy Rose” and for the first time includes other actors (memorably, the freakishly lantern-jawed Dr. Locker, played by none other than Escape from Tomorrow‘s Roy Abamsohn) and non-apartment locations in the video, the fractured multimedia aesthetic will be completely familiar to “Girl Internet Show” fans. The brief story concerns the titular medical procedure and the satire of cosmetic surgery is obvious, though done with Kelli’s usual verve.  Sadly, Kelli died suddenly—of, of all things, an asthma attack—only three days after “Total Body Removal Surgery” was completed. This mixtape version of her legacy, assembled by admirer and her husband Jordan Wipple, flows well and is a fond remembrance of her out-there artistry. Rather than being a completed product, Kelli’s work suggests a talent that was just beginning to find her legs in her late 20s, cut off just as she was ready to launch. It’s a shame that she was never able to expand her canvas beyond YouTube, but her work should inspire a generation of independent artists looking for a template for how to create engaging art with nothing more than a camera, a few wigs, dolls, the After Effects suite, and broadband wifi.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…not just a hilarious, weird anthology, but also an elegy and a tribute to a loved one and an outsider artist.”–Anton Bitel, Projected Figures

Girl Internet Show: A Kati Kelli Mixtape [Blu-ray]

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