Though the larger social purpose of a counterculture is still a little bit fuzzy (largely, it seems to exist to be plundered by more mainstream media when the larger audience is ready to accept), the more immediate need of providing an environment where people like George and Michael Kuchar have a forum to be heard is very clear. While Stan Brakhage was experimenting with form and light in highly experimental short films, the brothers Kuchar were producing films that seemed to absorb the iconography of the day and regurgitate it back out in a form halfway between parody and melodrama. Their progression from obscurity to underground fame, as well as their extracurricular activities and production methods, are chronicled in the documentary It Came From Kuchar, a film that is always interesting and amusing without being especially penetrating. But then again, that is probably reflective of the Kuchars themselves: their appeal and aesthetic could hardly be analyzed or suitably explained to someone who isn’t already a follower.
Born in the Bronx in 1942, Mike and George don't know if they are fraternal or identical twins, but do concede that they did once know and have since forgotten. Early in life, they discovered a propensity for making short films on 8 mm film stock, which was the cheapest film stock available at the time. While Mike’s work veered towards the more avant-garde and experimental, George’s work more closely resembled the horror films and the Douglas Sirk melodramas of the period (some choice titles of their films include Sins of the Fleshapoids and A Town Called Tempest). Here, clips from those early films are juxtaposed with the images that inspired them, as well as the commentary of filmmakers such as John Waters and Guy Maddin, who count themselves among the many fans of the Kuchars. Later work, such as the sexually explicit Thundercrack and the documentary Weather Diaries, is also covered, as well as some footage of George on set of his new film, The Fury of Frau Frankenstein, produced with his students in San Francisco, where he teaches and works.
Though it’s always fun to hear John Waters talk about anything, it is in these scenes that Kuchar finds its grounding, and gives us some insight into their process, if indeed there is one. A representative early story goes like this: “hey, my movie needs a swamp king. We’re going to paint you all green.” “Actually, I need to be somewhere in an hour and a half. I can't really be painted green.” “That’s okay. The movie doesn’t need a swamp king.” That sort of spontaneity, that rapacious need to produce regardless of the final product, is evident every time that either of the Kuchars is on screen, talking in their own eccentric way about their upbringing, their process, or various experiences that they had in their over forty years of making movies. As Mike states, he rarely knows exactly what the films he’s making are about before he starts making them: he lets them reveal what they’re about. The results are extremely low-budget, and acted with an abandon that dares you to call it inept, but in their own way very touching, at least according to the numerous film-makers interviewed here (though the clips are indeed charming, it’s hard to get a feeling from this what actually watching one of these films in its entirety would be like).
It’s a good thing that the Kuchars are as charming as they are, however, because director Jennifer M. Kroot’s style could best be described as hands off (even though her voice is occasionally heard), as she largely allows their personas to do all the legwork. This is a mixed blessing: while it assures that nothing gets in the way of the film’s eccentric charm, a little more context and insight would made for a slightly richer experience. But this is a fairly minor complaint for a film that frequently (and not embarrassingly) recalls Ed Wood and Crumb in its generous depiction of artists who truly work because they love to, and because they have so little else to do with themselves.
Whether or not you leave this film wanting to see a Kuchar film will be very subjective: the film at no point tries to portray them as anything other than what they are, or makes any plea for a larger audience. But you will most likely be glad that they are out there working, and that there is a platform that has allowed them to flourish in the way that they have.
Bonus Features
The DVD has a feature length commentary with director Jennifer Kroot and George and Mike Kuchar. Essentially, it acts as an extension of the film, with George and Mike continuing to tell stories as the film goes on. There are also 28 extended and deleted scenes, the most interesting of which involve George discussing his theories involving UFOs and the men in black, and Egg Replacer, the winner of a contest sponsored by Indiepix for films inspired by the Kuchars (it’s not bad). There’s also a theatrical trailer. The DVD menu music also deserves mention for being especially spunky.
"It Came From Kuchar" is on sale June 29, 2010 and is not rated. Documentary. Directed by Jennifer M Kroot. Starring Atom Egoyan, Buck Henry, Christopher Coppola, Dan Carbone, George Kuchar, John Carlson, John Waters, Mike Kuchar.
