Stream of consciousness bio-pic leaves my head swimming
Patti Smith dream of life
Steven Sebring’s documentary “Dream of Life” last night on PBS was underwhelming at best and truthfully annoying.
Perhaps it was the hour or I needed more or less mind altering substances in my body but I could not stay with the 2 hour program past 90 minutes.
I should have read the billing more carefully “Patti Smith: Dream of Life is an impressionistic journal of a multi-faceted artist that underscores her unique place in American culture.” PBS.
I am a fan of documentaries, black and white documentaries and have memorized Pennebaker’s Don’t Look Back. I am a Canadian raised on the dry documentary style of the National Film Board.
That being said, it almost blew my mind to move back and forth in time with only tiny threads of connectivity watching Dream of Life. It was like being inside the head of the poet herself as she invokes the “stream of consciousness” amendment in the American Constitution. You didn’t know about that one? That’s the amendment that allows you to sit in a cast-iron enamel tub in hot water, looking out a small window and dreaming drearily about random events in your life. The only reality that intrudes is the cooling of the water which can be fixed by turning the hot water tap with your big toe.
We got snippets of Patti Smith’s music. She owns a great Gibson L 00 from the 30’s but plays it crudely. She admitted only knowing 4 chords in 1970 but anyone who knows her music would have figured that out. After all it’s punk not rock opera.
She and Sam Sheppard, who looked amazingly real for an actor, jammed badly and I kept thinking: is this all the talent it takes to be a big star?
Patti Smith’s poetry was better than the music they broadcast but that was no doubt the intention to show us her anger and vitriolic music space. With no annotation or connection, the music seemed to be from her punker days in NYC. I’ll admit I avoided her like the plague back then. How much punk can you take without wanting to slash your wrists, scratch the needle across the record or find music with melody?
Facts were missing. We got only snippets about her lovers, marriage and death of her husband. Who is the kid in the film, hers? It was the cumulative annoyance of connectivity that forced me up and out of the room.
Something tells me I might watch this again, if it doesn’t cost $20 as an attempt to get inside that head space again.
Dream of Life was the winner of the 2008 Sundance Film Festival Excellence in Cinematography Award: Documentary. A production of Clean Socks and THIRTEEN. Produced by Steven Sebring, Margaret Smilow and Scott Vogel.
Bill DeNo
I have to agree – this is a tedious watch. And one has to wonder at the self fascination of someone past 60 years of age who still courts the hip n’ happening.
I am a fan of Smith’s drawings at this point. The music remains unevolved, sentimental and dated. Plus one has to wonder about someone who is always passing herself off as “just one of the people!” None of the people I’m close to dress head to toe in prada nor can they claim that a few hundred dollars isn’t a lot of money. The film is pretentious. I kept wanting to fast forward it. Amd it was my second time around.
Donna Greenberg
I agree. The expectation was for a filmed history of the punk era with Smith as the guide it is nothing of the sort it is a pretentious delusional bore about a woman whose punk antics are all but forgotten except by the geezers at the Chelsea .
Julia NYC
This was so embarrassing. I cringed every time the woman said anything. Thank God the sixties are over. Please no more airtime for that wretched generation. It’s bad enough we now have to deal with their tiresome kids. it’s a shame, perhaps the documentary could have been interesting if it had some real substance. For instance, why was she famous and why did she affect so many people? It certainly was not apparent from the documentary. They should have delved more into her work.