The Saddest Music in the World

I had always been told that director Guy Maddin did nothing conventionally, and so I approached The Saddest Music in the World with anticipation and hesitation. I am a great fan of Isabella Rossellini and Maria de Medeiros, both of whom do well in this picture. Maddin delivers a picture that is quite beautiful visually; all in black and white, and edited in such a way as to recall something resurrected from the 1930s. There are a few occasions when colour is allowed in, and those moments dazzle. One of the most striking images I have seen all year is Isabella Rossellini posing in Technicolour standing on glass legs filled with beer. It's something that has to be seen to be believed. However, once you get past the visuals, the film is rather empty and lacks heart. I do recommend it, though, because everyone should see something new and different (and for Isabella and Maria).

I spent the whole time asking myself whether I was enjoying this. I tried, but I'm still not sure. I did appreciate the film making. The director clearly asked 'what can we do with the camera?' and the answer was 'anything'. There were many beautiful shots that had me hitting the pause button. A lot of it had an experimental feel - but that wasn't the problem. The story, based on an original screenplay by Kazuo Ishiguro (perhaps they should have stuck to the original), felt like it was concocted by different people trying to outdo each other with silly ideas (tapeworms, beer-filled glass legs, sleeping in the snow, a character based on Gavrilo Princip - you quickly stopped asking why) - but that wasn't the problem either.

The film might have been a collaboration between David Lynch, Orson Welles, Eisenstein, and the Brothers Quay - each of them disagreeing what the film should be about. It was worth trying. I quickly got used to the extremely smudgy effect - as if the lens had been smothered in vaseline - and I appreciated Isabella Rosselini (looking and sounding like her mother) and the big-eyed Maria de Madeiros.

The backdrop was a music contest between international contestants to find the world's saddest music. The face-off heats was pure Python but it was all kept strangely distant. There were several problems: the emotional drama between the father and the two sons was dreary, as such issues always are. Secondly, it wasn't funny, and that was because it was all art and no emotional intelligence. Thirdly, it said nothing. It was full of ideas, but they were all microscopic, worked out at scene level - or even frame level. The whole thing put together didn't add up to anything. In the end, the images were everything, and that is always going to be disappointing.

'The Saddest Music in the World' is a kind of pastiche of 1920s film-making, with interspersed scenes in cod-Technicolour; but to really give a flavour of its oddness, I should say that it's the tale of an amputee brewery heiress with a pair of glass legs, filled up with beer (writer Kazuo Ishiguro borrowing from one of his own novels in the story of how she lost her originals). In truth, this is a very silly film, but it's almost a triumph, in that the silliness is controlled, with every crazy scene is consistent in tone and adding to the bizarre atmosphere. But it's hard to assert that the movie amounts to much more than a demonstration that it was technically possible to make it - it can't be taken seriously, and it's not really funny (rather, it's the sort of film that only makes you laugh because of its audaciousness in what it dares to pass off as comedy). But you certainly won't see too many other movies like it; and director Guy Maddin makes brilliant use of the heart-shaped face of Maria de Madeiros, which he makes look as if it really has just heard the saddest music ever.

Don't be scared away by people who warn that this movie is too difficult or bizarre. This film will appeal to more than just the usual cabal of obscurantists and nerdy cultists. The plot is quite straightforward: a depression-era beer baroness commissions a contest whose aim it is to find the saddest music in the world. As a result, scores of zany musicians from around the world descend on frost-bitten Winnipeg to win a $25000 prize. Hilarity ensues.

That's not to say the movie doesn't have its fair share of the absurd, the bizarre, and the dark (it *is* a Canadian film, after all). Lines are delivered with strange inflections, characters' motivations are screwy, filmic styles are mixed. None of these, however, comes off as pretentious or forced.

The film explores the interesting paradox that despite the reality and ubiquity of real sadness, authentic expressions of sadness are difficult and rare.

This is a review of the DVD.

First off, Guy Maddin's films are an acquired taste. Second, it helps to be a film fan and to have a knowledge and love of early cinema to truly appreciate them. Third, you must be willing to give yourself over totally to his particular vision. Don't even try to fight it. Do all this and get ready to enjoy.

"The Saddest Music in the World " is a wonderful amalgam of comedy, drama,

tragedy and farce. It's got a cast of characters that are familiar and yet strange at the same time. Just when you think it's heading in one direction, it yanks you in another. It has an internal logic just like a dream.

The photography, art direction and sound design add to the uniqueness of the

experience. The film feels like an artifact, a lost film that was hidden away by a studio in the '30s because it was too wild and broke too many rules. In fact, it's film-making that defies the system.

The DVD contains a making of featurette that is enjoyable to watch. There are also 3 short films. Only Maddin could make a film with the title "Sissy Boy Slap Party" and make it funny.

Please take a chance and rent/buy this film. It's not the typical Hollywood

product (although it mines Hollywood's past) and for that we should be glad.

I also have to recommend another film by Guy Maddin- "Dracula: Pages from a

Virgin's Diary", a silent film ballet. I got it sight unseen and love it. The director's commentary was worth the price alone.

I'm a Guy Maddin fan. I have developed an addiction for his work. Thank God!