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June 10, 2007
Brand Upon The Brain
I wish I could provide an objective perspective on Guy Maddin's Brand Upon The Brain, but the experience of seeing it on the big screen at the Egyptian, with the orchestral accompaniment, the foley artists and Barbara Steel's magnificent narration was such an ecstatic one that you probably should take it at face value when I say that the film may well be Maddin's masterpiece (Heart Of The World aside, of course). At the same time, I don't think there's even been a more perfect presentation of the man's work; the pure theatricality, the showmanship of the live performance elevates Maddin's style to delirious new heights.
That style, with its jittery kineticism and hyperactive aperture, is by this point in Maddin's career perfectly in tune with his storytelling. There was some degree of parallax between his earlier melodramas and the style in which he filmed them; they were fascinating and ambitious, but they were also frequently somewhat tedious. Over the years, however, he's figured out how to make the one intrinsic to the other, and to make their confluence the perfect vehicle for a mainline into the more naive and sensitive regions of the subconscious.
Like its predecessor, Cowards Bend The Knee, Brand Upon The Brain is an autobiographical fantasy. If that one was an ode to its Maddin's father, this one is an account of his relationship with his mother. One can assume that the details - which here include an orphanage that harvests nectar from the brains of its young wards, a plucky girl detective who disguises herself as a boy and a deeply mad matriarch - may not be as historically accurate to the young Guy's upbringing as the film purports, but they're buoyed by a very particular emotional exactitude. The film's bombastic whimsy is coursed through with a very real heartache; this film is as deeply felt as it is ridiculous, as deeply personal as it is totally made up.
Alas, the self-reflexive journey that is Brand Upon The Brain will from this point forward have to be experienced in a slightly more traditional cinematic format. The print that is beginning to open up around the country (the release schedule is here) has a pre-recorded score and a narration by Isabella Rosellini, but the live show ends its run tomorrow night in Los Angeles, and has yet to be announced for additional cities. Instead of lamenting that fact, I'll take this opportunity to mention Maddin's journals, collected and published under the title of From The Atelier Tovar. It's a marvelous and indespensible compendium of self deprectation, self doubt, self loathing and, betwixt all that, artistic triumph. There are also treatments, storyboards and reviews, including what may be the most hilarious critique of Kurosawa that I've ever read. Highly recommended.
Posted by David Lowery at June 10, 2007 07:48 PM