On WFF #10: To inform and/or delight
Decider previews the Wisconsin Film Festival
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Last week, the publicist for metal band Anvil sent out an email plugging Sacha Gervasi's documentary Anvil! The Story Of Anvil (April 2, 8:45 p.m., Orpheum Theatre) as "The Real Life Spinal Tap."
No! Bad press release! See this rolled-up Sunday New York Times with all the sections included? It's got your name on it, goddammit. Anvil is indeed a metal band past its glory days and down on its luck, and it's even got a drummer named—no kidding—Robb Reiner, who sticks with frontman Steve "Lips" Kudlow through shit and shine. But Reiner and Kudlow don't nurse too many delusions, nor does the documentary find the Canadian outfit embarking on any jazz odysseys. Gervasi also doesn't put the inherent craziness of metal ahead of training an honest eye on two very decent-seeming, flawed guys, who slog through their day jobs, treat their families well, and try to earn back a slice of their early-'80s success on the metal scene. Of course, they're also up against the preconception that older dudes can't or shouldn't rock, but there's plenty to disprove that: Joe Strummer made one of his best records, Streetcore, before dying at age 50, Alejandro Escovedo's still awesome as he pushes 60, and, what the heck, Ted Leo turns 40 next year.
Like heavy metal, the current world of documentaries wouldn't be where it is without grown-ass men and their strange obsessions. Early on, Anvil! cuts back to footage of a 1984 rock festival in Japan, where Kudlow sports a bondage harness and plays his guitar with a dildo. Cutting to the present day, the current version of the band plays to a small bar crowd (including fiercely loyal fans with nicknames like "Cut Loose" and "Mad Dog") as Kudlow celebrates his 50th birthday. What do these two performances have in common? Kudlow's smile. He doesn't come off as bitter or greedy—he just seems happy as hell when he's playing. No matter how cock-rockin' campy Anvil's lyrics get, it's impossible to ignore his sense of joy or his well-executed music.
Even when Anvil's back out on the road, suffering through a disastrous European tour, and Kudlow goes through a series of "remember me?"-type introductions backstage at a recent festival, he doesn't evoke pity. Even if he is trying to rebuild some music-industry connections, he comes off more like a sweet fanboy having fun. Back home and back at the day job, Kudlow makes yet another Hail Mary effort by sending a demo tape off to veteran metal producer Chris Tsangarides, who the band recorded with in the '80s. Kudlow doesn't want to go the half-assed route; if he's going to do a new album, he wants someone who can capture an awesome sound.
Tsangarides agrees, and the process of funding and recording begins. Of course, Anvil's still got plenty of struggling to do through the remainder of film (and even now, on a screening-and-concert tour that will hit Chicago on April 22). More often than not, adversity brings out the best in these people.
But how about a documentary on a guy who's reveling in his successes and seems ready for more? Wendy Keys' portrait of a practical visionary artist/designer in Milton Glaser: To Inform And Delight (April 5, 3:45 p.m., Monona Terrace) calls to mind 2004's Moog, which is about the inventor of the Moog synthesizer. I got through about 30 minutes of Moog before I realized it was mostly a litany of loving endorsements for Robert Moog and his (hugely influential and awesome) product. Glaser can feel that way at times, yet one could also imagine chatting with the old firecracker for about 12 hours and not getting bored.
Yes, Glaser himself spends much of the film explaining the genius of his many projects (from the iconic "I [heart] NY" campaign to the logo for Brooklyn Brewery), but he turns it into a process of discovery for both himself and the audience. His tales of pioneering "service journalism" and making cheap restaurants fashionable during his tenure at New York magazine even made me feel more excited about working for a publication, and all the possibilities that arise if only someone thinks of them. Even if Keys were going for a deep-digging, critical examination of Glaser's work, the man's creativity and, above all, his zest for helpfulness would have glowed its way into this film.
For more previews of the Wisconsin Film Festival, please see the On WFF archive.
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