The Reign of the Chihuahua
Labeling Performance (1970) as anything less than a mind-fuck of the highest caliber would be foolish. One might even go so far as to argue that even that extreme label isn't enough to account for the visual and aural wonderland created by the masterful hands of director Donald Cammell. This film is an excellent reminder of the contributions to society made during what was arguably one of the most controversial decades in United States history. Chock-full of sex, drugs and rock n' roll, Performance will bring back fond memories of anyone who lived through this tumultuous time period, and let us youngsters take a first-hand look at everything that we missed.
From the opening scene, viewers are pulled in by use of camera and editing tricks strikingly similar to the famous shower scene in Psycho (1960)—we are never shown penetration in either—be it by knife or… other means—but I could have sworn that it was present in both. With an opening like that, filled with rapid scene swapping, surreal audio effects that tingle the ear drums and random bursts of visual flare, it is hard to not give the film one's utmost attention for the rest of the duration. But the film doesn't make keeping up with the narrative easy, in fact, Cammell seems to try and break the viewer's concentration and send their minds out on wild goose chases a random moments throughout the viewing experience.
The magic of this film lies within these wild goose chases. The scenes are built around establishing a sense of normalcy and as soon as the viewer begins to catch hold of what is going on, the floor drops out. Anything can happen. I recall feelings akin to what Alice must have felt when she fell into the rabbit hole—I never knew what sort of experiences to expect, and I was always pleasantly surprised to find that nothing could have prepared me for what was ahead.
Films like this were uncommon then and I am sad to say that they are still uncommon today. Sure, directors pop up every once in a while and put out films like Donnie Darko (2001) that attempt to tread a path similar to Cammell, but the fact of the matter is, films like this just do not bring in the big bucks. So we are left relying upon the true artists; the directors who would rather finely tune their vision into a 'perfect' film that the average Joe will never see than live extravagantly—and this kind of director is not easy to find. This, of course, begs the question, "why don't these movies sell?" The answer is obvious—they are entirely too complicated.
When the average consumer—Americans in particular, but this is likely true for other places as well—sits down to enjoy a movie, he doesn't want to think. Thinking is what happens at work. We, as a country, do not like to be challenged. We like to have our hands held and we would prefer the finer details and cultural references be left out, as we will likely miss them anyway. This is a sad truth and is becoming more apparent as I get older. Growing up, I never noticed how simplistic people like to keep things.
This is a problem that can be fixed, though. It won't be easy, but if everyone who enjoys a film more challenging than, say, Beverly Hills Chihuahua (2008) (the very mention of this 'film' makes me want to bang my head against the wall) bands together, we can at least make our voices heard. In order to prevent our voices from falling on deaf ears, we must show these kinds of films to everyone that we know. We may not always be met with the best remarks about the films. Hell, we may even be deemed insane for liking such 'wastes of mental energy'. It certainly wouldn't be the first time that I have been met with such remarks, and I have a feeling that I am not alone.
Film lovers, heed my call! If you truly love the film industry, but hate the garbage that it has been feeding you for the last decade, take a stand. Grab your closest friends and sit them down to watch Performance. Have a beer, have a laugh, have a lot of time set aside for explaining the film to them, because we can't expect everyone to remove their training wheels on the first night. We can right the wrongs of the film industry, but we can't do it alone. End the tyranny of the mindless movie-goer. Save your children from having to sit through more movies about Chihuahuas, they'll thank you when they're older.
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