I am Trying to Break Your Heart (2002)
Films are pretentious just as film
criticism is pretentious. Films are pretentious because
the filmmaker assumes, that is he creates under the
basic pretense, that someone, an audience, will be
interested in what he has to say and how he says it.
Film criticism, likewise.
But there is also a pretense of
the audience. When they see a film, they take the
time to do so under the impression, the pretense,
that the filmmaker knows how to use a camera, sound
recording equipment, actors and a script to create
a "film." Readers of film criticism, likewise, assume
that the person who wrote the review they are perusing
knows what the fuck they are talking about.
It would be great if, before seeing
a film or reading something, including film criticism,
we knew who did the creating. We need to know the
background of the person whose opinions are being
expressed. Oft times, I wonder if the people who read
some of my writing have any idea of who I really am.
If it were a perfect world, you'd know my whole life
story, including a list of all the films I've seen,
books I've read, art I've witnessed, schools I've
attended, jobs I've held, friends I've had, guys I've
fucked, etc...
I'm going on this course because
I think it's important to note that before seeing
"I am Trying to Break Your Heart," a documentary about
the band Wilco, I knew almost nothing of the group.
I think I had heard one of their early singles (I
may still have it somewhere from my radio DJ days).
And I had seen the trailer for this film as well.
That was it. I walked in knowing almost nothing.
Although the film assumes that we
know quite a bit about the band going in, its biggest
assumption, its biggest pretense, is that it will
convert the uninitiated. Sorry, it doesn't. This is
a "for fans only" sort of film. So, if you like Wilco,
go see it. You probably already want to. If you don't
like the band or don't know anything about the band,
don't waste your time.
For those of you who simply enjoy
film criticism, however, I will continue. If there
are fans still reading, please don't write to tell
me of my factual errors here. For one thing, I don't
care - and for another, I'm only talking about what
I gleaned from the film.
(My impression of the band is that
they waver between the line of modern alt_rock bands
like Fastball and modern balladeer folkies like Ben
Folds Five, Ben Lee, and Elliot Smith. This amalgam
does not make for heartfelt or interesting music.
Nothing about the band's music or lyrics seemed new
or inspired to me. In fact, by the time the film was
over, after I'd heard 4 or 5 songs in their entirety
and a dozen more in bits I had a headache.)
The film covers Wilco's recording
of an album, their 5th or 6th or so, called "Yankee
Hotel Foxtrot" (or something close to that). The film
is all black and white, an arty pretense that actually
works for a while here.
The first 1/3 of the film covers
the recording and mixing process of the album. I will
say this. If you know any young musicians, like your
child, and you don't want them to pursue a musical
career, this might be an interesting film for them
to see. There are things that show just how difficult
it is to be a rock star. Here, in the studio, the
collaboration process is paramount to getting the
job done and that's what Wilco seems to be doing in
these early segments: working and collaborating. It's
amazing to me that a band this coherent and settled
in the studio later fired one of their most important
members. I think that says as much about frontman
Jeff Tweedy's dumbness as anything else in the film.
Anyway, later in the documentary, we also see the
band dealing with labels, and promoting and touring.
Dissension among the band, and legal wrangling will
also be explored.
The middle portion of the film covers
Wilco's problems with Warner Brothers in trying to
get the album released. Eventually Reprise Records,
the band's label, which is owned by WB (or, actually,
Time Warner), rejected the record when the band refused
to make some changes. The label eventually dropped
the band and, thanks to some bad press, let the band
shop the record around. Eventually they sold it to
Nonesuch Records (also, ironically, owned by Time
Warner) for 3 times the money. The film tries to make
this seem like a Malcolm McLaren type ironic swindle.
It isn't. It's more like what Johnny Rotten might
call, um, boring.
The final third of the film is nothing
more than a promotional tool for the CD with 5 or
6 songs covered in the same, yawn, boring, grainy,
black and white style that is incorporated into the
whole film. Unless your a fan of the band (or a convert
because of the film), it will bore you to tears. It
just goes on and on and, like Prince's "Purple Rain,"
gets more dull and pretentious as every new minute
(and new song) drones slowly by.
There's a real missed opportunity
to explore the inner- working of a record label and
the record business but director Sam Jones is so lazy
that he doesn't cover this. He'd rather just be like
the band and, taking a cue from their POV, only look
blankly into the mechanisms of the music business.
The band lets the lawyers handle it and while some
interviews with lawyers and managers and record label
people are included, no real insight is gained. The
whole point of the film is that pop music and popularity
in pop music is really enigmatic. No one really knows
what will sell. Most of us knew this already.
If there is any true indicator that
this film is nothing more than a promotional tool,
it is the inclusion of several interviews with David
Fricke, the Senior Editor of "Rolling Stone." Fricke
is an interesting guy and he offers knowledgeable
and articulate insights. But in the end, he too is
nothing more than a fan. It's no surprise to us that
when the band finally gets a new label and the CD
is released, "Rolling Stone" calls it an "instant
classic."
What does surprise is that the film
spends all this time building to a climax where the
band triumphs over the "big corporate machine" and
gets their CD released, AS IS, by the same company
that nixed it in the first deal and the final title
card of the film only mentions that the "Rolling Stone"
raved about it. It doesn't tell us if anyone else
liked it. And, more importantly, it doesn't tell us
if the CD made any money. That's the pretension here:
That the audience would rather see an artist triumph
rather than big business.
After hearing much of the band's
music while seeing this film, and assuming that the
CD sales were fairly nominal, since they aren't mentioned,
I'm inclined to think that those bigwigs at Reprise
may have been right in the first place.
Note:
The press kit for the film mentions
that the CD made $55,000 dollars its first week out
and enter the Billboard album chart at #13.
