Smithereens
It's the early 1980s, but there's Wren, taking a selfie. With a Polaroid camera. Expected. It's a perfect image of a selfish, narcissistic young woman. Hardly better than all the hustlers and hangers on she complains about in New York City. Many of them take advantage of her. But not Paul, who's landed in this sewer from Montana. He's on his way to New Hampshire in a old van that occasionally runs. Trusting, friendly soul, clearly out of place. He meets Wren on the subway and follows her around until she agrees to a date.
It doesn't go well, and sets the emotionally abusive pattern for their relationship. In a bar, Wren (Susan Berman) all but ignores Paul (Brad Rijn) when she spots Eric (Richard Hell), a member of a defunct punk band called Smithereens. Eric wants to start a new group and head to L.A. Wren decides she wants to manage it. She goes home with Eric. Paul goes home alone, and for most of the rest of the picture Wren will come back to him when everyone else shoos her away. He even takes pity and lets her live in the van with him. What is he expecting? She's insensitive and thoughtless to everyone, except those who can give her something, How long can the cycle continue?
1982's SMITHEREENS asks us to be interested in such a loathsome, misguided human being, one many viewers will rightly despise. When the finale finally arrives, many might even cheer. She got what she deserved. I initially felt that way, and was pleased that director Susan Seidelman and her co-writers (one of which was PHILADELPHIA scribe Ron Nyswaner) didn't contrive a happy ending. But Miss Berman, who rarely acted after this movie, gives Wren some sort of pathetic appeal. We may even almost feel sorry for her, like she's powerless in her actions. There are a few revealing if brief moments of self awareness, but mostly confusion when others call her out on her behavior.
The film is a strong drama, but moments of humor, dark or otherwise, punctuate at the right moments. My favorites involve a catfight between Wren and a booking agent in a restaurant and Eric's roommate, who seeks a bubble bath with one of Wren's friends but only has dish washing liquid. Other moments will depend on your ability to see something funny in the grotesque. The scene with the prostitute who joins Paul in the cab of his van one night straddles the comedy/tragedy divide quite deftly.
Above all, Seidelman documents an invaluable aesethetic of early '80s NYC, in all its filthy glory. She raggedly yet smoothly tracks the cluttered streets populated with all those lost souls. Some trying to hold on to the waning punk scene. The film has been marketed as a punk rock (with according soundtrack) story, but that is the mere setting. Beyond the artifacts and disintegrating culture is a timeless tale of enormous loneliness, and the filmmakers capture it as well as I've seen in a movie.
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