Scotch
and Milk (1998)
Adam Goldberg, a quirky young Hollywood actor, has
fashioned a film that is much about film aesthetics
as it is about men... and women... and the ocean in-between.
Masturbatory at times, the film saves itself with a
killer final reel that will leave you swooning. While
watching the film, you start to think Goldberg just
needs to get rid of some of the "junk" in the film.
But after the final reel, you see it's beauty, the beauty
in it's wanton wastefulness and nothingness. Goldberg
dredges us through the absolute monotony and lifelessness
of his existence by seemingly setting up a camera at
a party with his friends and letting them play. It is
this nothingness, this bare minimal existence that sets
us up for what follows, an essay on the absolute disparity
between a man and his own consciousness, between a man
and his own masculinity and sexuality, and between men
and women. It's about the duality of modern man as personified
by one man unable to reconcile and/or justify either
his masculine or his nurturing selves.
To this end, "Scotch and Milk" is nonlinear. Goldberg's
film fluctuates effortless between time and space and
only occasionally becomes too self evident to tolerate,
much as we all do in life itself. He shows us his meager
existence, living in a barren landscape that we assume
is New York, because Goldberg seems to have that New
York sensibility, until somehow we realize that he's
in Los Angeles. The beauty of the film is that nobody
plays a struggling actor. Except that all of the characters
are struggling actors, so it is never spoken, never
alluded to; It is understood. Goldberg's world drifts
ceaselessly between reality and non reality, caught
up in old movies and Orson Welles' "Touch of Evil" and
drinking binges and snorting cocaine and sleeping and
flirting with women and listening to anguishing jazz
standards. In the film's beginning, Goldberg and his
crew go to a jazz club to see the newly rediscovered
jazz legend Little Jimmy Scott. Goldberg's character
Jim (same first name) is trying to discover something
new within himself. He wants the world to see he is
there but he doesn't see himself when he looks in the
mirror. He is lost, adrift, aimless and worthless.
Jim's major problem isn't his recent breakup with Ilsa
(Clea Lewis), he just thinks that it is. His metaphysical
mental wanderings consistently force him back into the
memory of their lives together. Goldberg's nonlinear
approach constantly reminds us that this is a man on
the edge of reality. A man without a country, he is
homeless and awash. And no one sees it. Not even himself.
Much in the enigma of "If a tree falls in the woods,"
Goldberg asks, "If a man cannot see himself, does he
exist?"
There are moments where the film dives into some scenes
that don't work. Robert Pastorelli, playing a weird
queeny barfly, is particularly bad. He is wasted here.
In fact, all of Goldberg's friends seem like a waste
of space. But finally we see that that is the point.
He hangs at a bar full of aging losers, until, in the
final reel, one of them drops a cerebral bomb on him
that explodes the film's message wide open. Meanwhile,
Goldberg's peers, led by Nicky Katt and Giovanni Ribisi,
seem pointless too. We wonder why Goldberg allows himself
to be dragged around by these losers. But they also
come through in the film's finale to say something important.
Or, at least finally, to hear Goldberg speak, to talk
with him and help him verbalize his thoughts.
In addition to the film's plotted points about romance
and male/female relationships, Goldberg also makes a
subtextural statement about the nature of being a man
in the modern world. His character drifts back and forth
between serious and comical, between romantic and sexual,
between male and female, between straight and gay, between
hanging out with his posse and staying at home with
his female lover. Hence the title, "Scotch and Milk."
Goldberg seems to say that tenderness is almost impossible
for a man in the modern world. Women are attracted to
men for their manliness and then feminize them once
ensnared in a relationship. Goldberg's Jim cannot rectify
this in his mind. He agonizes over whether he should
try and have relationships with women, which are continually
unsatisfying or problematic, or whether he should hang
out with his buds, whose defenses come up the moment
any intimacy is felt between them and verbalized or
physicalized. Almost any male "bonding" type moments
are immediately turned into questions of sexuality and
masculinity by his male friends. They are simply his
"drinking buddies." Except, now and then there are moments,
unfortunately not enough of them - for Jim or for us,
where they can drop all of this and be great friends
too.
Goldberg's film is shot in black and white. It is artsy
and visually stunning. He film's the urban landscape
around him with an eye to Noir and a nose to the foreign
classics. The film makes deep and cerebral comments
and is only occasionally marred by the way it was produced.
A few small edits and the piece would be a master work.
It sits now for a year on the shelf, being trotted out
occasionally for a festival or screening. It has no
distributor and probably never will. It's that good.
Notes: Also with Cole Hauser. Director Richard Linklater,
who cast Goldberg in "Dazed and Confused," has a cameo.
Ribisi's character was originally written for Rory Calhoun,
also a "Dazed and Confused" alum.
Goldberg shot the film for around $50,000 and then had
to buy out a producer whom he referred to as "a fascist."
Personal Note: Seen at the Alamo Draft House on 8/29/99
with Goldberg and Linklater in attendance. Goldberg
did a short Q&A after the film.
As I was leaving the theater, the most amazing thing
happened. I was walking out and some folks were gathered
on the sidewalk in front of the theater. There was a
cute young person there and for a moment I thought,
"Oh, it's a cute lesbian." Then I could see it was a
guy, a cute guy. I thought I recognized him from seeing
him somewhere around town or at the Austin Gay and Lesbian
Film Festival last night or something. You know, I notice
cute guys everywhere. Then, all of this in my mind in
the seconds it takes me to walk past the group, I realize
it is Wiley Wiggins, who also starred in "Dazed and
Confused." I freaked silently to myself and waited until
I got to the corner before I couldn't stop from giggling
out loud like a schoolgirl. I so desperately wanted
to turn back but for what reason. To say "Hi?" To act
like a schoolgirl and feel completely foolish? I was
in Austin.
I live in fucking Austin! I have seen 4 film directors
(Goldberg and Linklater tonight and Nickolas Perry and
Jim Fall last night) in 2 days. And now I have seen
Wiley Wiggins. It scares the fuck out of me. What the
fuck am I doing here? There is something devastating
about fantasy and reality merging together? It exhilarates
you and makes you feel so incredibly alone at the exact
same time. I went home to immediately write this down
and wished I had some anguishing jazz records of my
own to play.
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