I have been writing movie reviews off and on for over ten years. Sifting through a collection of older reviews it's amazing to see how my thought processes have changed over time. There was a point when I truly believed that a good film needed to be a source of decent entertainment first. After all, what good is a narrative if it doesn't convince you of its world and engross you into the foibles of its characters. As I have gotten older and seen my fair share of challenging films that dare to alter and/or, God forbid, throw out narrative structure, I can say with little doubt that my previous assertions were absolutely false. A great movie doesn't need to satisfy our baser instincts and simply be entertaining. It certainly helps but it's not the end-all-be-all point of all movies in existence. Some movies are repulsive by design, some are so creatively off-kilter as to be subjective, while others still are purposely boring.
Memphis and other movies like it, makes me wonder about being on the opposite end of this entertainment vs. art paradigm. At what point can one put any critical weight on the idea of boredom, especially when that boredom is part of the filmmaker's intent? The film Memphis follows Willis Earl Beal (who plays himself), as he wonders the dilapidated abodes, churches and nightclubs of the titular city while struggling with a musical mental block. He's said to have a God given gift of song, yet his new found success as a blues singer has alienated him from his inspirations thus he wonders the streets largely muttering to himself.
Director Tim Sutton has a rare eye for finding the forlorn Gothic beauty and simmering spirituality behind one of America's most culturally significant cities. Much like Jim Jarmusch's Mystery Train (1989), the grimy, left-for-dead city is given a lackadaisical reverence that forgoes it's most famous landmarks for boarded up windows and filthy screen doors. The film was largely shot in Orange Mound, a neighborhood of Memphis said to be among the poorest in the nation but nonetheless has a proud history of African-American affirmation. Blues lived and died in the steamy back alleys of Orange Mound and every non-actor in this film carries that on their shoulders with a sense of pride.
All except Willis Earl Beal who seems to have come out of nowhere. Despite Tim Sutton's insistence that Beal is a bonafide Blues singer, the man carries himself like a carnival barker feigning genuine- article realness. He seems all to willing to act the part instead of being the part. I suppose for a micro-budget independent film you can't fault him too hard for amateurish acting but instead of channeling Muddy Waters he channels Marcello Mastroianni's performance in 8 1/2 (1963), a character who prides himself on facade not authenticity.
The film carries itself much like the halcyon waters of the Mississippi; listlessly trailing Beal as he goes from a TV studio, to his home, to a church he seldom attends, to a suburb and finally to the forest. It's a slow meditative and ultimately exhausting hike that brings to mind Jace Clayton's "The Quietest Place" art assignment on youtube. Some may find the jaunt downright frustrating and not even worth the film's brief run time. I personally saw tiny flashes of Andrei Tarkovsky and Kar-Wai Wong encrusted in the silt but Memphis didn't live up to such lofty ambitions.
That said I'm glad young enterprising filmmakers like Sutton have any ambitions at all; other than stumbling into the directing chair of Marvel's latest glorified serial. Yes this film will test your patience and yes some may find this prosaic travelogue much too pensive to endure. It came down to the wire for me, saving itself by the skin of a few confidently made shots and a killer soundtrack.
