Bombay Beach reviews
Review by on 18 Sep 2011
Somewhere in the desert east of Los Angeles, sitting on the edge of a great lake, lies the small town of Bombay Beach. Once a flourishing tourist destination, it has become a desolate and ramshackle place where a group of inhabitants are caught in a void of rural life. Supported by the perfectly apt music of Bob Dylan and Beirut, this quirky little documentary follows the everyday life of some of these people, in what could only be described as a bizarre existence that they lead: a family whose parents have served jail-time, their children taken away from them twice in the past; a former LA gang-land member who is courting his best friend’s sister and aiming for a scholarship to go to college; and a group of elderly people airing their naïve ways and wisdom.
Indeed, this is where the film successfully finds its heart – in the humanity that emerges in a culture so distant from our own, stuck in a limbo between the simple, yet paranoid era of 1950s America and today’s modern times. Director Alma Har’el makes the ordinary become extraordinary, the film is captivating throughout. The filmmaking is unobtrusive, becoming invisible as it silently watches the everyday nothing that fills the lives of the subjects, catching some truly astonishing moments.
To some this will be a comedy, to others a drama, perhaps an exposé or even a horror film – but nonetheless, this is a film that truly shows that truth is stranger than fiction.
Mike Boyd
Indeed, this is where the film successfully finds its heart – in the humanity that emerges in a culture so distant from our own, stuck in a limbo between the simple, yet paranoid era of 1950s America and today’s modern times. Director Alma Har’el makes the ordinary become extraordinary, the film is captivating throughout. The filmmaking is unobtrusive, becoming invisible as it silently watches the everyday nothing that fills the lives of the subjects, catching some truly astonishing moments.
To some this will be a comedy, to others a drama, perhaps an exposé or even a horror film – but nonetheless, this is a film that truly shows that truth is stranger than fiction.
Mike Boyd
Review by on 18 Sep 2011
Golden sands of time
Bombay Beach (we had no explanation of the name, sadly) took a little time to get used to, because it seemed (perhaps unnecessarily?) raw in the early shots, and, of course, one has (gained) expectations that what is near the centre of the frame will be - or be put into - focus. (I'm assuming that editing the film with some footage that meets this description at the start was a deliberate ploy.)
In any case, what I quickly came to experience as a real joy, since it is a principle that I try to employ in my photography, was the use of available light (which must have caused some difficulties in places). The whole emphasis on lighting, and on the flatness that gives a distinct horizon at sunrise and -set, was a hallmark of this film, as was the naturalness with which people seemed to get about their business, and come to mean something to us in the (relatively) short time (compared with Alma Har'el) that we (felt that we) spent with them.
Before I went in, Tony Jones, director of the Festival, said that I would want to see the film again when it is on release generally, and he is right - from the sounds of it, as he hopes to have Alma in Cambridge, plenty of time to think up questions before then. Until that point, what I will think about, other than listening to some of my Dylan tracks, is the hope that there was in all that I was allowed to witness, and try to remind myself that it is a privilege to see others' lives.
That said, and nothing to do with how the film was made, but I couldn't help being shocked at how much behaviour is controlled (for) by medication in the States. A young boy, clearly given ritalin because of ADHD (now quite well known in the UK), but also being given an anti-psychotic, then put onto 600mg lithium (instead of the ritalin, unless I misrember), which is one-half of the typical sort of dose for a six-foot man (the exact dose depends on metabolism). As to an explanation to Benny's parents of possible side-effects, particularly for lithium toxicity in the bloodstream, that appeared lacking.
Well, and I'm sorry that I forget his name, but as the elderly guy says who recovers from a mini-stroke, and whose appetite for life and what it is worth were wholly infectious, Life is a habit. For Benny, I hope that he may be able to form a habit where he is not overmedicated to meet others' ideas of who he should be, and the film, in its crazy phantasy ending, offered us that vision.
Bombay Beach (we had no explanation of the name, sadly) took a little time to get used to, because it seemed (perhaps unnecessarily?) raw in the early shots, and, of course, one has (gained) expectations that what is near the centre of the frame will be - or be put into - focus. (I'm assuming that editing the film with some footage that meets this description at the start was a deliberate ploy.)
In any case, what I quickly came to experience as a real joy, since it is a principle that I try to employ in my photography, was the use of available light (which must have caused some difficulties in places). The whole emphasis on lighting, and on the flatness that gives a distinct horizon at sunrise and -set, was a hallmark of this film, as was the naturalness with which people seemed to get about their business, and come to mean something to us in the (relatively) short time (compared with Alma Har'el) that we (felt that we) spent with them.
Before I went in, Tony Jones, director of the Festival, said that I would want to see the film again when it is on release generally, and he is right - from the sounds of it, as he hopes to have Alma in Cambridge, plenty of time to think up questions before then. Until that point, what I will think about, other than listening to some of my Dylan tracks, is the hope that there was in all that I was allowed to witness, and try to remind myself that it is a privilege to see others' lives.
That said, and nothing to do with how the film was made, but I couldn't help being shocked at how much behaviour is controlled (for) by medication in the States. A young boy, clearly given ritalin because of ADHD (now quite well known in the UK), but also being given an anti-psychotic, then put onto 600mg lithium (instead of the ritalin, unless I misrember), which is one-half of the typical sort of dose for a six-foot man (the exact dose depends on metabolism). As to an explanation to Benny's parents of possible side-effects, particularly for lithium toxicity in the bloodstream, that appeared lacking.
Well, and I'm sorry that I forget his name, but as the elderly guy says who recovers from a mini-stroke, and whose appetite for life and what it is worth were wholly infectious, Life is a habit. For Benny, I hope that he may be able to form a habit where he is not overmedicated to meet others' ideas of who he should be, and the film, in its crazy phantasy ending, offered us that vision.
