Living in Oblivion Blu-ray Review
Close, but cigar?
Reviewed by Jeffrey Kauffman, December 6, 2015
Whether or not Sigmund Freud actually said "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar" (or words to that effect) is still being hotly debated in various
corners of the internet if not in actual scholarly circles, but the underlying truth of the statement can probably find no more salient example
than the reaction that Lindsay Anderson's
If.... engendered when it
was first released in 1968 (and even beyond). The fact that Anderson and cinematographer Miroslav Ondricek shot the movie on both black
and white and color stock caused all sorts of critical exegesis, much of which tried to tie these different sequences with the film's concurrent
mixing of fantasy and reality. Whole edifices of critical assessment were built upon the sometimes odd juxtapositions of black and white and
color segments, with some analysts tying themselves into mounds of pretzel logic in order to try to make sense of whatever their hypotheses
were supposed to be. This attempt to find meaning or at least symbolism in something, in other words to make a cigar something else, is a
peculiar human endeavor, and it is sometimes such a strong impetus that more mundane explanations can be overlooked in the rush to
achieve some kind of cathartic philosophical breakthrough. And so the punchline to this particular example turned out to be the fact that
various people involved in
If. . .'s production, including Anderson and star Malcolm McDowell, have gone on record stating there was
really no "meta" aspect to the crazy quilt approach toward the film's palette, but instead one that was largely based on economics or at least
the economy of lighting and shooting some scenes monochromatically rather than in color. In other words, there was no "reason" for these
choices other than the basic necessities of getting stuff committed to celluloid under sometimes trying circumstances. Some similarly prone
critics may approach
Living in Oblivion with a similar urge to "make it all make sense", especially since this film not only traffics in the
same black and white versus color ambiences that informed
If. . ., but ups the ante in a way by having the first of the film's three
sections shot on 16mm, with the last two in the more traditional 35mm format. Add to that the fact that
Living in Oblivion actually
luxuriates in certain "meta" aspects, including the fact that the film deals with filmmakers making a film called
Living in Oblivion (got
that?), and it's certainly understandable why some might go into veritable hyperdrive trying to explain it all. In this case, however, to maybe
cop a concept from a certain feline attached to a certain Schrödinger, sometimes a cigar both is just and is not just a cigar.
Anyone who has experienced the "glamour" of show business from the inside, no matter which of the performing arts is involved, will
probably
tell
you the illusion of glitz and nonstop wonderfulness is, well, an illusion. The hard nosed reality of what it's like to be on a film shoot, and
specfically a
shoot for a low budget independent film, is capably documented in the early moments of
Living in Oblivion as a craft services table
may
have offerings that are well past their expiration date (a seemingly odd setup for what turns out to be a horrifyingly funny punchline down
the
road). While the crew debates the edibility and/or potability of various foodstuffs in the predawn murk, two actors are on their way to the
set,
ingenue Nicole (Catherine Keener) and elderly Cora (Rica Martens), who are playing daughter and mother in the film.
Director Nick Reve (Steve Buscemi, wonderfully addled throughout the film) is on hand attempting to wrangle a ragtag bunch of crew
members, but also trying to achieve a modicum of emotional honesty in the scene he wants to shoot, a deceptively simple sequence involving
the character Nicole is playing berating the character Cora is playing for not having protected her as a child from an overbearing and violent
father. Nicole is nervous about the scene, as she has already confessed to the morning's driver, but she seems to literally have her act
together as the first take is undertaken, only to have it spoiled by a technical snafu, something that will repeatedly (as in
repeatedly)
happen, driving Reve to near apoplexy.
Writer-director Tom DiCillo, who repeatedly talks about the dissatisfaction with the film industry which sparked
Living in Oblivion,
seemingly delights in showing how interlinked and thus dependent a film crew is on each other, something that means if one person makes a
mistake, everyone suffers. A cascading series of screw ups seems to be putting the entire shoot in jeopardy as the first third of the film
comes to a close with the startling revelation that—it's all been a dream of Reve's, who is in fact only
about to start shooting the film.
That sets
Living in Oblivion off on its second section, where some of the personal stories of various cast and crew members begin to
play into the proceedings. Nicole has had at least a one night stand with her leading man, the wonderfully named Chad Palomino (James
LeGros), but their continued relationship is a bit more tenuous. That tension ends up playing out on set, as Chad, a rather self involved
actor, decides to go all Method on everyone, once again driving the assembled multitudes to distraction. Things devolve quickly through a
series of farcical misunderstandings, leading to the startling revelation that—it's all been a dream of Nicole's, who is in fact only
about
to start shooting the film.
Twin Peaks: The Entire Mystery was
still a relatively recent phenomenon when
Living in Oblivion appeared in 1995, and some may feel that the film's third section is a
none too
subtle dig at some of the Lynchian hyperbole that informed the short lived but epochal television series, especially with regard to a certain
repeated fantasy element that became one of the show's "signature hallucinations." In this case, Reve is attempting to
film a bizarre dream sequence which features Nicole as a bride having a rather, well,
unusual interaction with a dwarf named Tito (a
hilariously ornery Peter Dinklage). Things continue to go spectacularly wrong for Reve and the crew, but
Living in Oblivion's rather
sweet, optimistic conclusion seems to be that the show must indeed go on.
Despite the fact that DiCillo ended up hiring a retinue of non-professionals for supporting roles, many of whom got their parts by
contributing funding to the project, there's less of a "not ready for prime time" feeling about
Living in Oblivion than might be
expected. Both Buscemi and LeGros are surprisingly facile in comedic guises, and Keener manages to capture a hint of actual humanity,
providing a kind of naturalistic core around which much of the other insanity unfolds. The film's convoluted structure may
seem
"meaningful", but it was really less the product of design than the result of various vagaries of chance. DiCillo only managed to put together
enough scratch to make what he initially envisioned as a short, which is one reason why the first section of the film was shot on 16mm.
When that first section was completed, he realized it was too long to be a traditional short, but too short to be a traditional feature, and so
he went back to the drawing board, utilizing what was already completed as a foundation on which to build the two subsequent sequences.
The result is actually surprisingly organic feeling, all things considered, with DiCillo often offering playful stylistic touches along the way (the
first sequence offers the "real life" moments in black and white and the film within a film moments in color, while later sequences reverse that
approach).