"It's here: the Net's first review of MY GIRLFRIEND'S WEDDING. Excited?"
Jim McBride's DAVID HOLZMAN'S DIARY (1968), one of those "classic" movies no one bothers to watch, mercilessly parodied the '60s underground scene: its titular hero progressively wrecks his life while attempting, in an ill-advised pursuit of cinema verite, to capture his humble day-to-day existence on film. McBride's obscure 1969 follow-up (which may or may not have ever played theatres) runs along the same lines, except this time it's for real.In this unambitious but kinda neat late '60s time capsule, running barely an hour long, McBride simply turns the camera on his "liberated" English girlfriend, who chats candidly about her visits to the abortionist and her commitment to "the Revolution." His unidentified girlfriend (the soundtrack blanks out whenever her name is mentioned--legal issue, maybe?) is getting hitched to a American "Dostoevskian revolutionary" so she can remain in the U.S. Nothing much happens. (At one point, McBride-the-interviewer even complains that the movie's getting dull.) Depending on how you look at it, it's either as boring or as interesting as it sounds.
Me, I can take do-it-yourself filmmaking better than most; the bald, personal statement can be more compelling than acres of Hollywood tinsel. And there's always the time-warp fascination of listening to ultra-earnest counter-culture types casually yak about the overthrow of the existing order. The Revolution--whatever the hell that was supposed to be--never happened, though we did wind up with fear and loathing all over the place. I think a lot of us born after 1970 tend to lump all this Revolution-izing in the same box as marathon dancing and reefer madness--bizarre fads our parents and grandparents fell victim to.
Technically, it's a static, unpolished piece of filmmaking--listen to the car noises in the background--but that's part of the appeal, at least to me.And I wonder what happened to that Dostoevskian revolutionary--it's hard to be a proper radical when you're modelled after a fanatical Tsarist who owned serfs.