Sunday, 27 March 2011

'Howl'

Howl is Rob Epstein's and Jeffrey Friedman's attempt to translate Allen Ginsberg's epic four part poem 'Howl' into a visual form which aims not only to inform about the figure of the poet himself, including insights into the very process of writing and as such creation, but furthermore sets out to convey a sense of the despair of a post war youth coming to terms with a world in which the realities of sexuality, race, and language are changing, shifting, leaving its very ground unstable, so the very act of living seems like a tightrope act.  

Howl does so in four distinct aesthetic forms: first of all the black and white shots of a young Ginsberg, setting out, firstly to write, and later to perform 'Howl' in a San Francisco gallery in 1955. These segments are inter-crossed with nostalgically tainted shots of an older Ginsberg giving an imaginary interview in his apartment. Then, a rather conventionally shot courtroom scenario, depicting the obscenity trial against 'Howl''s publisher. Last, a series of hallucinatory animation sequences endeavour to reinforce the voice-over reading of the poem in a drawling sing song melody, imitating Ginsberg's intonation.
 
The film clearly aims at showing that the issues of the Beat generation echo through the times and are as relevant today as in 1955. They surely are, especially in drawing the parallel between the obscenity trial in the film and its general musings on homosexual love in the 50's and the trial of Proposition 8 going on in California as we speak. The film, however, fails to deliver in any original way. The scenes depicting young and slightly older Ginseberg are every art student's dream in that they are extremely stylish, to the point of being superficially stylized.

The black and white shots of the smoky back room of the gallery and the faded colours of the apartment shots are attractive, but have the quality of a stylish shoot for an independent London based fashion label. The court scenes provide several entertaining moments, especially in the array of so-called literary experts either condemning or praising 'Howl'. They deal with the age old question of what defines Art and its merit in, if not a new way, at least an eloquent one.

One of the main problems of these scenes is the unintentional irony introduced by the casting of Mad Men's Jon Hamm as the liberal defence lawyer. He pays an advocate of a poem which clearly satirizes the uniformity of the Madison avenue suits. This in itself could be clever pun on the consumer habits, not only of the advertisement and thus materialistic craze of the 50's or indeed of our contemporary society, instead, it only reinforces the impression that 'Howl's ideas and ideals have by now become an integral part of a bourgeois education it set out to antagonize at its time.

A clear distinction can here be observed between the power of 'Howl' the poem and its visual accompaniment that is Howl the film. The words in themselves, beautifully read out by James Franco have lost none of their sense of urgency, anger and indeed necessity. It is here, however, that the images let the language down as they feel too presumptuous, even pretentious at times, too much part of a cultural canon that is clearly aimed at a bourgeois society which can later on discuss their relevance over a glass of good Merlot (and maybe even a cheeky bit of Brie). As such, the film feels dishonest as it is clearly aimed and indeed sourced from academia, rather than tapping into the ugliness and roughness of a life on the fringes of society from which it was conceived. This is a shame, as it turns the language of the poem, which is still very much alive into a discourse, emptying them of their emotional resonance leaving the audience distanced and uninvolved.
 
This goes for the animation as well. One of the characters remarks that poetry cannot be turned into prose, that being the reason why it is poetry in the first place. One cannot wonder why the film-makers chose to include this particular observation if they then decided to transform the poems hallucinatory and imaginative observation into an animation which leaves no room for subjective interpretation. These animated sequences feel flat and strangely lifeless, their nightmarish qualities they were no doubt to convey lost in the artistically polished images whose overly phallic symbols attempt to translate the points made about homosexual love and life with the subtlety of a sledge hammer. Not that the poem isn't satiated with sexual explicit comments, it seems to me, however, that the main point lay in the sensual love between two men, which in the poetic language comes though as a thing, indeed, one of the only things of beauty in these bleak streets of an underground New York.

The images themselves have a strangely Orwellian quality, maybe because their very style reminded me so much of the animated version of Animal Farm. It thus felt like the authors forced a vision of the poem on me which left me feeling distanced and indifferent to the certainly relevant themes on the screen. Howl is certainly a very crafty piece of work, however failing to do justice to the raw energy and thematic force of the language and indeed experience of reading 'Howl'. The film as such doesn't howl so much as it discusses in a very civilised and cultured manner.


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