BUTTER ON THE LATCH
The film industry in the U.S. tends to function in relation to its presence in the larger national economy. Its not a coincidence that as corporate influence became a fixture in the political economy in the late 70’s, so did the superhero and big-budget action movies of the same era become fixtures of the cinema. Think about all the movies that come out now. Their impossible production size and visual bombast seems to mimic precisely the fixated corporate presence in politics. These movies, cast out to the public at incredible rates, are, by definition, not based on cinematic merit but instead on their potential for meeting the public’s most shallow demands. We see them because there are no other options, and this is fine, but it still contributes in giving the studios the financial imperative to continue the practice. They say the middle class is shrinking. If that’s true then so is the mid-budget movie. What he have left then can be seen as a political battlefield: a free-associated legion of independent filmmakers forced to scrap for their movies in combat against Hollywood. I’d like to consider Josephine Baker the newest addition to the gang.
Decker’s first feature film Butter on the Latch (2013) is a twisted psychological folk drama about the darkness that influences the friendship between two women. It is sometimes slow-paced and naturalistic (all the dialogue is purported to be improvised) while other times surreal, chaotic and deeply ambiguous. It is a film that deserves to be seen, if not in theaters around the world, then at the very least, at festivals and streaming sites, as a compelling example of what a movie can accomplish when its budget and distribution are unknown variables.
There is not so much a conventional plot in Butter on the Latch as there is a collection of moods that transform within the social backdrop. So what does happen in the movie? Well I’m not so sure, but I do know its about two women whose friendship catches the invocations of folk tales and ancient spirits at a Balkans retreat camp in the woods. In this camp, men and women meditate and sing, dance and drink Balkan moonshine. There is an attempt in the camp to foster a unifying rhythm, a collective spirit. This is invoked in ancient folk tales and melodies: “part of our genetics,” according to one man. But are these spirits flowing from the retreat’s regimented harmonies or from something seedier, something dark and feminine outside the camp, in the wild of the surrounding woods? The camera captures this turmoil by invoking a spirit of its own, at once patient and documentary-like, and at other times spiraling into chaos and fast cut collage. This is credit to the filmmaker who edited the film with courage and an appreciation of risk-taking. The risks pay off and the end result represents some of the more compelling narrative work in recent memory.
Decker uses the forced-DIY aesthetic to the film’s advantage, utilizing the small budget towards an even smaller cast and crew. There’s one primary location and the script is loose and apparently improvised. The running time: barely an hour. Why make it any longer? All of this makes for a quick but rich viewing.
If Butter on the Latch seems to lose itself inside of a folk song of old East Europe, then Decker’s next feature, Thou Wast Mild and Lovely (2014) is the dark b-side to the American folk song. It has the editorial and psychological presence of Latch, and to an equally strong effect. But the important things are that a) it came out, and b) it came out only a year after Latch. This is indicative of another advantage of independently-financed, small budget movies: they can be shot, edited and produced at a rapid rate. For some, a nearly annual one. See Alex Ross Perry, who has made three greats in only four years. Or even the less-compelling but more productive Swanberg/Duplass/West/Brice gang who seem to have a slew of movies out before you got the chance to watch the previous bunch.
This will have to be the model for filmmakers who have no choice but to look for other ways besides extravagant financing to create interesting movies. I mean we need something good and contemporary to watch in between Paul Thomas Anderson, Michael Haneke and Apichatpong Weerasathakul features. Josephine Decker not only meets this demand, but far exceeds it. Her two films are models for contemporary, experimental-narrative cinema. They’re perhaps not great or masterpiece-worthy in the context of film history, but they are nonetheless singular representations of good, contemporary cinema.
Another theme to the current cinematic climate is the gender gap between Hollywood and the independent scene. Hollywood has long been a Boys Club power structure and this accounts for all the infantile glee rampant in modern movies, from Star Wars to The Avengers. The more women I see in contemporary film—as writers, directors, cinematographers, actors, etc., the more I understand the souls and desires of women. I’m offered a perspective thats only capable through the representation of art, narrative and experimentation. Notice the credits at the end of Thou Wast Mild and Lovely. The vast majority of the crew is female. This is an incredibly rare occurrence in film. Its also very exciting and one of the more optimistic traits of current cinema.
