You know, I half expected to like Southland Tales. No…really, I did. So what if the initial reviews varied from the negative to the outright hostile, I had faith in the man who brought us Donnie Darko. In fact, much like its predecessor, Richard Kelly’s follow-up is an epic and often baffling mixture of several fairly disparate influences, but that’s ok ‘coz they’re all things I like. Broadly encompassing everything from science fiction, political satire, apocalyptic musical (it may actually be the only ever example of this), comic books, and even the occasional treatise on the morals of pornography, Southland Tales sounded like my cup of tea…and coffee…and cocoa. Ok, so yes it does sound like a bit of a mess; and yes, it was (in)famously booed at Cannes, subsequently enduring a protracted, not to mention very expensive re-cut, including a new voice-over (never a good sign. Just ask Rick ‘Cold Fish’ Deckard.); and yes, it has made Richard Kelly the new poster child for difficult-second-feature-syndrome, but, at the risk of cementing my reputation as something of a serial contrarialist, I was still expecting to like this.
I was not expecting to love it.
Southland Tales opens in 2005 with a nuclear attack on the Texas town of Abilene and from there takes a ‘road less travelled’ look at contemporary politics and culture. Fast-forward to 2008. The repercussions of the attack on Abilene are felt throughout America: The Patriot act has mutated into an Orwellian nightmare called US-Ident; Everyone is monitored 24/7 through CCTV; army officers man huge mounted sniper turrets on beaches and the internet is now under federal control. Most worryingly, America is no longer reliant on fossil fuels abut instead uses a kind of wireless energy called Fluid Karma, that powers everything from S.U.V.s to Aircraft carriers. However the only people that understands the process, its creator Baron von Westphalen (Wallace Shawn) and his bizarre entourage (think the Adam’s Family meets the Jetsons), are as enigmatic as they are kooky. Oh and did I mention that it is also a powerful hallucinogen? Added to this is a caricature of the Republican/Democrat divide, here represented by cartoonish extreme left wing ‘Neo-Marxists’ and cartoonish Neo-Cons. Though the latter are tough to distinguish from their real life counterparts. Strange days indeed.
Our guide and narrator to this frightening new America is Private Abilene (creepily portrayed by the ever impressive Justin Timberlake), a mentally and physically scarred Iraqi war vet, now manning one of the aforementioned sniper turrets. He in turn introduces us to Boxer Santaros, a stereotypical big, dumb, action-movie star (ably played by The Rock in a knowing and genuinely comedic turn), who has ties to the Republican Party and has woken up in the desert with a bout of amnesia. Having forgetton his wife (Played by Mandy Moore), daughter of Republican Vice-Presidential candidate Bobby Frost (Holmes Osborne, best known as Donnie Darko’s dad) and US-Ident chief Nana Mae Frost (Miranda Richardson), he has shacked up with Porn star/energy drink promoter/current affairs chat show host/Pop Singer Krysta Now (Sarah Michelle Gellar playing possibly the karmic opposite of Buffy). Together they have written a screenplay, The Power, "an epic LA crime saga" about a super-powered cop and the end of the world.
To prepare for this role he goes for a ride-along with Officer Roland Taverner (Sean William-Scott, an absolute revelation), who, unbeknownst to Boxer, has been switched for his twin brother, Ronald Tavener… who just happens to have superpowers.Hmmm. This twin switching is all part of a hilariously convoluted Neo-Marxist plot to blackmail Senator Frost into supporting proposition 69 (oh stop giggling, the number here represents everything from porn, to politics, to the yin-yang karma symbol it resembles), which would restrict US-Ident’s powers. As events unfold it seems that Boxer and Krysta’s madcap screenplay is alarmingly prophetic. Just as all the disparate plot threads begin to converge it becomes clear that the world is heading towards an Apocalypse, but in a deliberate inversion of T.S.Elliot, it’s not gonna end with a whimper, but with a bang.
That is just a brief sketch of the plot to Southland Tales, and to be honest it doesn’t do it any justice. The scope of the film is just too big to encompass in such a brief summary. There are plenty of engaging diversions from the main plot for starters. These range from the baffling (Krysta’s TV show, wherein she, and fellow porn stars address the social issues of the day, encompassing everything from the Presidential election to that perennial concern, teen horniness.); to the disturbing (a TV commercial featuring a S.U.V. ‘humping’ an earlier model, followed by the tagline ‘coming soon’!?) to the outright weird (Justin Timberlake’s all singing, all dancing, all drug induced Budweiser advert/Mime to the tune of The Killers’ ‘All These Things that I’ve Done).
When it does engage with the main plot it is often difficult to tell if Richard Kelly is taking it deadly seriously or taking the piss. I suspect a bit of both, and that, in part is what makes Southland Tale such a unique experience. If you can imagine an LA set Ulysses written by Philip K. Dick and adapted into a comic by Jack Kirby, then in turn into a film by David Lynch, shot entirely through a kaleidoscope, you’d be half way to understanding just how brilliantly weird Southland Tales is. Lynch is a very good touchstone actually, as ‘Tales often comes across more Mulholland Drive with crayons than Donnie Darker. But this very deliberate weirdness is what makes ‘Tales such a ‘difficult’ film and, I suspect, what lead to the disastrous Cannes reception.
Make no mistake, Southland Tales is not for everyone. It is unlikely, for example, to appeal to anyone who likes definite, clear-cut closure to their films (just go watch some Spielberg instead, he never forgets to wrap thing up neatly. E.g., War of the Worlds…I will someday feed him his own fingers over that ending. Jesus! ). Southland Tales is very open to interpretation, with the apocalypse in question being easily read as a literal one or indeed a cultural one, and one suspects that not even Richard Kelly knows what the hell it is all about. But I believe that this is not only what makes it a great film but also a very important film. Kelly tackles issues big and small (War on Terror/teen horniness) with equal fervour while refusing to give us an easy answer. If the film appears a garbled mess than surely that is a perfect symbiosis of form and content. No? Regardless, it is a film that will stay with you long after you have left the cinema (or your sofa as the case may be.) and is sure to lead to many different takes and arguments down the pub between the 5 people who actually see this. To quote Harrison Ford speaking about Bladerunner: ‘Ambiguity is endlessly productive’. Too true.
So Southland Tales is indeed an absolute mess, but it is also one of the most charming, intelligent and outright hilarious films I have ever seen. From its cast, to its relentless genre hopping, to its random musical interludes, it felt as if someone made a film especially for me. I loved every minute of this film. I besiege anyone to rent this, or buy it (you’ll want to watch t again. It is a truly unique experience and those with an open mind will be well rewarded.
4.5/5
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