“Billy the Kid,” “No Mercy, No Future”

“Billy the Kid,”  “No Mercy, No Future” (photo)

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Context and perspective can be everything — it’s not difficult to simply view Jennifer Venditti’s adroit and honest documentary “Billy the Kid” (2007) as a sympathetic portrait of a working-class high schooler inflicted with Asperger’s. You can, if you insist on doing so, take it clinically, or as yet another small-framed nonfiction slice of life bearing with it a fashionable special-needs public issue. Too bad about Billy P., a 15-year-old Maine kid living in a converted mobile home with his remarried mom, remembering an abusive father, and mixing uncomfortably with his neurotypical teenage contemporaries in school, who largely tolerate him but keep him at arm’s length. Billy himself is a lively piece of work, chattering endlessly from a headful of old movies and entertaining dreams of being a rock star, but you need only to watch his tense body language and searching eyes for a few seconds to understand that he’s disconnected, that he cannot mesh with everyday human society.

I wouldn’t have thought much of that movie, but rather mysteriously, Venditti’s evolves into a different kind of experience. Simply put, as we’re forced to immerse ourselves in Billy’s daily struggle rather than ignore him like we might if we found ourselves behind him in line at McDonald’s, he becomes more than just a kid with a handicap — he becomes an iconic figure, a walking, talking representation of adolescent traumas. It’s hazardous thinking of handicapped individuals this way, and Venditti doesn’t do very much to encourage our thinking. But Billy does, and in his wake Asperger’s becomes more than just a disorder, but a living metaphor for our own tribulations growing up, trying to navigate an overwhelming world, attempting to find love and friendship and having to nurse the scars alone when we fail.

11042008_billythekid2.jpgOnce you go there, Billy’s indomitability becomes stirring. Miranda July, in her mini-essay accompanying the DVD, nails it viscerally: “There was nothing Billy said or did that I couldn’t relate to, and for this reason ‘Billy the Kid’ was a hair-raising ride for me. I’ve worked so hard to control all the impulses he lets fly… [B]y the end of the movie, it seemed to me that Billy was a superhero…” It’s true: as Billy creates, out of sheer force of will, a romance with a 16-year-old diner waitress with nystagmus, and then confronts its collapse, Venditti’s film becomes almost unbearably triumphalist, an anthemic paean to awkward teenagers everywhere. “Heroic” is a too-often-used term for the handicapped — after all, what choice do most of them have? But with Billy, it seems apt, because by dint of his condition he plunges fearlessly ahead when all of us would probably hold back and shy away. He’s not exactly a tragic figure, in the Aristotlean sense, but the movie is a covert “Quixote.” I thought as well of André Gide, and Hamsun’s “Hunger.” It’s too much to consider Billy as a Christ figure, but he may be a modern Prometheus.

Existentialist parallels bubble up helplessly, too, watching Helma Sanders-Brahms’ “No Mercy, No Future” (1981), the latest film of this internationally renowned German filmmaker’s oeuvre to be DVD’d by Facets. The fiery, dogged, despairing feminist voice of the New German Cinema, Sanders-Brahms is an all but unknown figure here, despite having had a few of her films distributed to American theaters. Deep into her career she remains an unrepentant New Waver, montaging and jump-cutting and metafictionalizing all over the place. Of her Facets catalogue, “Under the Pavement Lies the Strand” (1974) is a kind of frau reimagining of Godard’s “Masculin, Féminin,” in which the failure of a post-1968 romance corresponds to the failure of all idealism, as it also liberates the woman. “Germany, Pale Mother” (1980), perhaps her most fondly remembered film, is an occasionally clumsy autobiographical period epic in which Eva Mattes plays Sanders’ mother, left alone (as so many of the filmmaker’s women are) during WWII, and forced to trek across the landscape away from the carnage with the child on her back.

11042008_nomercynofuture.jpg“No Mercy, No Future” is a leaner and scarifying world apart — a relentless odyssey endured by a schizophrenic young woman who abandons her helpless upper-crust family and hits the streets of Berlin, the ultimate lost soul, looking for Jesus (so she says) but finding only men to exploit her. In a classic, show-it-all acting coup that doesn’t wriggle free of your memory very easily, the cataclysmically anemic Elisabeth Stepanek has a genuine, disturbing lostness, and her portrayal of soul-destroying madness is far from Romantic. Like Billy, Stepanek’s wastrel is an extreme case gravitationally attracting larger significances; practically every abuse and suffering a woman can endure in the western world falls between her legs. The heroine is a clueless lamb in an endless landscape of wolves and weasels. Rape is a given, and in Sanders-Brahms’ view not as harmful as emotional manipulation and romantic deceit. Certainly, the most appalling scene involves a horny immigrant man who ostensibly wants to marry her; he insists on sex too soon after an abortion, and the resulting hemorrhage-soaked coitus is hard to watch. And it goes on, punishingly, until the couple is swimming in a symbolic flood of gore. This is not a movie that goes gentle into the night of feminist outrage.

[Additional photos: “Billy the Kid,” Elephant Eye Films, 2007; “No Mercy, No Future,” Facets, 1981]

“Billy the Kid” (Zeitgeist Films) and “No Mercy, No Future” (Facets Video) are now available on DVD.


New Nasty

Whips, Chains and Hand Sanitizer

Turn On The Full Season Of Neurotica At IFC's Comedy Crib

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Jenny Jaffe has a lot going on: She’s writing for Disney’s upcoming Big Hero 6: The Series, developing comedy projects with pals at Devastator Press, and she’s straddling the line between S&M and OCD as the creator and star of the sexyish new series Neurotica, which has just made its debut on IFC’s Comedy Crib. Jenny gave us some extremely intimate insight into what makes Neurotica (safely) sizzle…


IFC: How would you describe Neurotica to a fancy network executive you met in an elevator?

Jenny: Neurotica is about a plucky Dominatrix with OCD trying to save her small-town dungeon. 

IFC: How would you describe Neurotica to a drunk friend of a friend you met in a bar?

Jenny: Neurotica is about a plucky Dominatrix with OCD trying to save her small-town dungeon. You’re great. We should get coffee sometime. I’m not just saying that. I know other people just say that sometimes but I really feel like we’re going to be friends, you know? Here, what’s your number, I’ll call you so you can have my number! 

IFC: What’s your comedy origin story?

Jenny: Since I was a kid I’ve dealt with severe OCD and anxiety. Comedy has always been one of the ways I’ve dealt with that. I honestly just want to help make people feel happy for a few minutes at a time. 

IFC: What was the genesis of Neurotica?

Jenny: I’m pretty sure it was a title-first situation. I was coming up with ideas to pitch to a production company a million years ago (this isn’t hyperbole; I am VERY old) and just wrote down “Neurotica”; then it just sort of appeared fully formed. “Neurotica? Oh it’s an over-the-top romantic comedy about a Dominatrix with OCD, of course.” And that just happened to hit the buttons of everything I’m fascinated by. 


IFC: How would you describe Ivy?

Jenny: Ivy is everything I love in a comedy character – she’s tenacious, she’s confident, she’s sweet, she’s a big wonderful weirdo. 

IFC: How would Ivy’s clientele describe her?

Jenny:  Open-minded, caring, excellent aim. 

IFC: Why don’t more small towns have local dungeons?

Jenny: How do you know they don’t? 

IFC: What are the pros and cons of joining a chain mega dungeon?

Jenny: You can use any of their locations but you’ll always forget you have a membership and in a year you’ll be like “jeez why won’t they let me just cancel?” 

IFC: Mouths are gross! Why is that?

Jenny: If you had never seen a mouth before and I was like “it’s a wet flesh cave with sharp parts that lives in your face”, it would sound like Cronenberg-ian body horror. All body parts are horrifying. I’m kind of rooting for the singularity, I’d feel way better if I was just a consciousness in a cloud. 

See the whole season of Neurotica right now on IFC’s Comedy Crib.


The ’90s Are Back

The '90s live again during IFC's weekend marathon.

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Photo Credit: Everett Digital, Columbia Pictures

We know what you’re thinking: “Why on Earth would anyone want to reanimate the decade that gave us Haddaway, Los Del Rio, and Smash Mouth, not to mention Crystal Pepsi?”


Thoughts like those are normal. After all, we tend to remember lasting psychological trauma more vividly than fleeting joy. But if you dig deep, you’ll rediscover that the ’90s gave us so much to fondly revisit. Consider the four pillars of true ’90s culture.

Boy Bands

We all pretended to hate them, but watch us come alive at a karaoke bar when “I Want It That Way” comes on. Arguably more influential than Brit Pop and Grunge put together, because hello – Justin Timberlake. He’s a legitimate cultural gem.

Man-Child Movies

Adam Sandler is just behind The Simpsons in terms of his influence on humor. Somehow his man-child schtick didn’t get old until the aughts, and his success in that arena ushered in a wave of other man-child movies from fellow ’90s comedians. RIP Chris Farley (and WTF Rob Schneider).



Teen Angst

In horror, dramas, comedies, and everything in between: Troubled teens! Getting into trouble! Who couldn’t relate to their First World problems, plaid flannels, and lose grasp of the internet?

Mainstream Nihilism

From the Coen Bros to Fincher to Tarantino, filmmakers on the verge of explosive popularity seemed interested in one thing: mind f*cking their audiences by putting characters in situations (and plot lines) beyond anyone’s control.

Feeling better about that walk down memory lane? Good. Enjoy the revival.


And revisit some important ’90s classics all this weekend during IFC’s ’90s Marathon. Check out the full schedule here.


Get Physical

DVDs are the new Vinyl

Portlandia Season 7 Now Available On Disc.

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GIFs via Giffy

In this crazy digital age, sometimes all we really want is to reach out and touch something. Maybe that’s why so many of us are still gung-ho about owning stuff on DVD. It’s tangible. It’s real. It’s tech from a bygone era that still feels relevant, yet also kitschy and retro. It’s basically vinyl for people born after 1990.


Inevitably we all have that friend whose love of the disc is so absolutely repellent that he makes the technology less appealing. “The resolution, man. The colors. You can’t get latitude like that on a download.” Go to hell, Tim.

Yes, Tim sucks, and you don’t want to be like Tim, but maybe he’s onto something and DVD is still the future. Here are some benefits that go beyond touch.

It’s Decor and Decorum

With DVDs and a handsome bookshelf you can show off your great taste in film and television without showing off your search history. Good for first dates, dinner parties, family reunions, etc.


Forget Public Wifi

Warm up that optical drive. No more awkwardly streaming episodes on shady free wifi!



Internet service goes down. It happens all the time. It could happen right now. Then what? Without a DVD on hand you’ll be forced to make eye contact with your friends and family. Or worse – conversation.


Self Defense

You can’t throw a download like a ninja star. Think about it.


If you’d like to experience the benefits DVD ownership yourself, Portlandia Season 7 is now available on DVD and Blue-Ray.