Couch Festival: July 2005
Summer of Love
By Jennifer Hearne

Summertime usually finds me barefoot and pregnant; not with child, but with energy and inspiration.  This month the couch is covered in Consolidated CDs and books by Ken Keyes.  And the fireworks are onscreen as we take a look at films that freed our minds so our asses could follow.  When it comes to the Fourth of July, now more than ever, it is of utmost importance to recognize that in the world of cinema, Independence Day is so much more than a Will Smith film.

My favorite flower children in film have nothing to do with hippies but a lot to do with civil disobedience.  With 1966's Sedmikrasky or Daisies, writer/director Vera Chytilova made an invaluable contribution to youth culture and feminism with her bizarre allegory of two doll-like good girls who decide to go bad.  How they accomplish this is the plot of the film.  On a very superficial level, Daisies will appeal to simple party girls and hardcore Riot Grrls alike - Chytilova's protagonists, Marie 1 (Jitka Cerhova) and Marie 2 (Ivana Karbanova) are lean and chic in their mini dresses (much more relevant in '66, when the miniskirt was a recent symbol of liberation).  Sweet and spoiled, they giggle and flirt their way through dinner dates, engage in existential conversation and cavort like kittens as they irreverently dismantle a formal banquet.  Amidst the whimsy are darkly provocative moments (the two Maries remedy their ennui by snipping phallic symbols with scissors) and a cheeky closing statement that Chytilova used to thumb her nose at the Czech government that would eventually ban her movie.  Daisies would be remarkable if it had been released today; in 1966 it was revolutionary and it endures as an extraordinary representative of the New Wave of Czech cinema that advanced film culture before it was silenced. While it's indescribable surreal images and higher purpose warrants rediscovery, one can only hope that Daisies will remain the cinephile's best kept secret (far from the eyes of the commercial ad execs who would surely plunder Daisies exquisite cinematography for lifestyle ads if they knew about it).

A field of daisies provides a powerful backdrop for a pivotal moment between Harold and Maude in Hal Ashby's 1971 celebration of life, liberty and the need for self expression.  79 year old Maude (Ruth Gordon) is trying to explain to virginal Harold (Bud Cort) that a field of daisies, while seemingly the same, is really full of individuality, just like human beings.  When the field of daisies yields to a wide shot of a landscape full of graves, the wisdom and beauty of Ashby's tale is profound.  Cat Stevens wrote the only songs for Harold and Maude and his songs are as important to the film as the script: the memorable "if you want to be you, be you..." becomes a central theme.  At film's start, emotionally dead Harold is startled by Maude's chutzpah.  They are peripherally aware of each other (both of them regularly attend the funerals of strangers) but don't officially meet until Maude steals Harold's hearse and unwittingly offers him a ride home in his own vehicle.  After Harold realizes that eccentric acquaintance Maude is actually his only friend, the two embark on a liberating journey that defies their age difference, allowing seedling Harold to receive all that full bloom Maude has to give.  The unlikely pair dance the "cosmic dance" until Harold is forced to accept that nature child Maude has chosen her own winter.  There are no "Hollywood" hippies in Harold and Maude, but the film is essential hippie viewing: Maude may arguably be the truest "flower child" in filmdom.  Proving both a great thinker and a doer, one of the first things Maude inquires of Harold is whether he sings and dances.  Harold replies no.  Maude says "I thought not."  By film's end Maude's ultimate gift to Harold is that she has taught him (and her audience) how to sing, dance and fully live.   

With an endearing title song that pays homage to the grand dame of food lit and lesbian love, 1968's I Love You Alice B. Toklas echoes the Beatles proclamation that "You can learn to be you in time - it's easy".  The earth doesn't move when Harold Fine (Peter Sellers) makes love to his staid secretary/fiancée, Joyce (Joyce Van Patten) - it takes a gorgeous hippie chick (Leigh Taylor Young) and her pot brownies to make Harold realize what he's been missing.  Free loving Nancy loosens Harold up in time to escape two loveless trips down the aisle.  But when the high of his personal reinvention wears off, the downside of freeloading flower children forces organized Harold to find a happy medium on his own, somewhere between uptight and groovy.  I Love You Alice B. Toklas is a fun but thin script literally saved by the comic genius of Sellers: when uptight Fine and his old-school parents partake of Nancy's dessert the drug humor is gratuitous but remains hilarious, especially when Harold's mother continues to ask him what bakery the brownies came from.  While definitely essential Sellers (no hippie has ever been more deadpan than Sellers trying to peacefully explain his new existence to a cop), the film today suffers from it's stereotypical look at superficial free love and flower power.

A heavier depiction of peace-seeking youth can be found in 1969's Alice’s Restaurant.  Based entirely on an Arlo Guthrie song that only partially touches on real life Alice and her entourage, director Arthur Penn took a few liberties with Arlo's story and ended up with an oddly avant-garde look at the last days of hippie culture in America.  What's worthy is appealing folk icon Arlo: nomadic Arlo deals with authority figures, the loss of dad, Woody and other personal strife; friends Alice (Patricia Quinn) and Ray (James Broderick) try to keep it together as somber real life gets in the way; what's distracting is the rambling story line: we're not always sure who is significant in the film and why we are supposed to care about what they are doing.  Earlier releases may have confused viewers but thanks to the DVD, watching Alice’s Restaurant with Arlo's commentary gives it a necessary second wind.  Because genuinely likable Arlo anchors it, Alice’s Restaurant now pleasantly stands the test of time as an important and touching look back at the final days of the original hippie scene.

1968's Psych-Out and Head are more than essential psychedelic cinema, the two projects have Jack Nicholson in common.  Originally Jack's brainchild, Psych-Out (the story of a naive deaf girl from a dysfunctional home seeking her streetwise hippie/artist older brother) eventually morphed into a Dick Clark production directed by Richard Rush.  Jack is left to play Stoney, the nihilistic lead he created for himself.  The setting is the most authentic you'll find - the streets of San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district.  The genuine hippie extras and the timely sights and sounds more than make up for the film's lack of depth; performances by Garry Marshall, Susan Strasberg, Bruce Dern, Dean Stockwell and Henry Jaglom are all worth the rental fee.  While Psych-Out is very realistic in its dealings with the negative aspects of hippie existence (those who think hippie is short for "hypocrite" will appreciate this take on the scene), its shortcomings in character development are considerable.  It's hard for me to care about any of the characters.  All I end up wanting from them are their wardrobes.  When used as a club backdrop, Psych-Out (available on DVD with 1967's The Trip) definitely makes the dance floor a better place, but not the world.  Nicholson did far better contributing to the genesis of 1968's Head, a vehicle that exposed the Monkees to the more mature (?) drug culture viewers.  As its title suggests, Head is complex; whether it feeds yours or leaves you scratching it is a matter of taste (and endurance).  If you have a penchant for surreal imagery, Head deserves at least one viewing (hint: you'll never see a better mermaid on film).

Putting his money where his pen was, Terry Southern's prediction of a future where everyone would debase themselves for money proves prophetic in today's era of sellout TV.  Based on Southern's novel, 1969's The Magic Christian finds Peter Sellers as a billionaire who adopts a homeless young man (Ringo Starr).  With unlimited cash, the two set out to prove that everyone has a price.  Paul McCartney's theme song "Come and get it" works nicely to further the film's theme and writer Southern and director Joseph McGrath combine the song lyrics with a backdrop of pound notes to get their point across in the opening shot.  The tagline for The Magic Christian read "antiestablishmentarian, antibellum, antitrust, antiseptic, antibiotic, antisocial and antipasto".  If you've been working for "the man" too long or have fallen asleep on your cultural watch, 1968's Yellow Submarine double billed with The Magic Christian  might be just the thing to wake yourself up.  

Every astrological age has its element, air being the element for the current age of Aquarius.  Aquarians believe they are predestined to get higher and higher, and from drugs to outer space, the sky has no limit. With this in mind, the recently released DVD double feature of 1997's Trekkies and 2004's Trekkies 2 are must sees this summer of love.  Footage of Roddenberry's widow in Trekkies confirms that Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry was directly inspired by 60s culture to create a universe that offered the best of the Aquarian ideals.  So if you were wondering where the flower children have gone, you might find a few of them (or reasonable facsimile's) at a Star Trek convention.  After all, the subjects of Trekkies extol the virtues of belonging to a sub-culture that gathers peacefully to celebrate individuality; their similarities to true hippies evident in their desire to live in a world without currency and to right the wrongs in the universe.

The original Aquarians still abound in the film version of Rado, Ragni and MacDermot's Hair. The live productions of Hair generated so much heat from its impassioned audiences that the odds of the film version succeeding were stacked against it.  Proving that it often takes a foreign perspective to shed new light on the freedoms we take for granted, director Milos Forman, who lost his parents to Nazi concentration camps, was up to the challenge.  Started in 1976 and finally completed in 1979, Hair was no longer timely.  Released in the era of disco, it lacked the momentum it deserved.  Forman nobly used multi-talented leads instead of established stars. Subsequently, the film was well received but quickly forgotten.  While capably executed, the musical numbers are either hits or misses.  The hits however more than make up for the misses and the misses work if you can muster up enough suspension of disbelief.  While some of the scenes are hopelessly cheesy, numbers like "Manchester", "Easy To Be Hard" and the incredible final reprise of "The Flesh Failures/Let The Sunshine In" do much to buoy the film back up.  Despite its flaws, Hair picks up enough speed to deliver an explosive and powerfully moving finish.  With his capable use of extras and crowd scenes, Forman ultimately succeeds in transferring Hair’s message from stage to screen as it revisits the best intentions of the antiestablishment movement. 

During the Vietnam era, the most optimistic opponents of war believed that if they could only reach a critical mass, the world would change.  This is what activists like Ralph Nader, Michael Moore and Bob Geldof are saying today and all John and Yoko were saying when they paid for billboards that said "WAR IS OVER. IF YOU WANT IT", which brings me to my final couch entry: 1988's Imagine: John Lennon.  Imagine allows us to immerse ourselves in John Lennon's incredible life; invaluable is the examination of post-Beatle John, whose solo career was still meaningful enough to affect positive social change.  Amazing footage of John coming to terms with himself as an artist, as a husband and as a father turns this popular documentary into a timeless portrait of the man who remains an icon of peace and love.  Lennon's commitment to changing the world, so derided by his harshest critics, is reciprocated by the multitude of fans who gathered then (and now) for a candlelight vigil in his memory.  Imagine inspires.  While Lennon's death is still hard to accept, he continues to bring positive people together with renewed faith that "love is all you need".

Next month: the couch prepares for an Indian Summer as we examine some of the finest of the Bollywood exports!