By Max Kyburz
Loyal readers will remember that several weeks ago I wrote a ‘Netflix It’ on Harmony Korine’s Gummo. Those who have seen it (whether before or after reading my review) know that the film is a tour-de-freak through the bowels of domestic America. You may also know that Harmony Korine, whether a genius or perverted fiend (to me, he’s both), is a filmmaker to be reckoned with in every way.
Well, it turns out that Korine’s got a new film that’s finally making its way to your home, and whether you want it there or not is up to your discretion. The film in question is a new installment in the “found footage” catalogue, shot entirely on VHS, and it’s called Trash Humpers.
I’m not kidding. That really is the title, and it’s precisely what the film is about. The grotesque characters (who are never named) hump, crush, maim, and demolish anything they can get their hands on. And then they hump some more. Throughout the film, the characters remain elusive, and whether their horrific elderly visages are constructed or meant to be taken seriously, we are meant to be somewhat frightened by them. Korine considers Trash Humpers “an ode to vandalism,” which is selling it short, but there’s no mistake about it: the domestic nightmares featured all have an appetite for destruction.
Is that all the film is about? It is about vandalism as much as a Harmony Korine film can be about anything. You really can’t approach his films in the same way you would a director like Steven Spielberg or James Cameron. His films almost never have a clear narrative, since they are mostly composed of scenes meant to be connected thematically. They are often like nature documentaries where the characters’ behavior are most important. It is for that reason Trash Humpers can be considered “un film de Korine”, and if you have seen one or all of Korine’s films, you will be able to find connections.
There’s the destructive and discordant boredom seen in Gummo (I like to think of the entirety of Trash Humpers as home movies of that film’s inhabitants), the lo-fi Dogme95 qualities (location shooting, handheld camerawork) of Julien Donkey Boy, and the bizarre, hopeless camaraderie of Mister Lonely. These are all tied together by Korine’s love of slapstick and vaudeville, as well as a passion for the entire history of cinema.
With films like Paranormal Activity and Cloverfield taking the box office by storm, the ‘found footage’ genre has made the jump from art house medium to commercial gold. For many of us, the prospect that fiction could very well be reality is mouthwatering. As reality shows rule the airwaves, we depend on documentary (and mockumentary style) as a primary source of entertainment. As the genre moves forward, Trash Humpers takes it downward and diagonal, and for that, I rejoice. Many found footage films appear to “accidentally” move in a linear style, which is not the case for Korine’s film.
Scenes (if you can call them that) end as as soon as they begin, which is thanks to Korine’s unorthodox technique of editing the film on two VCRs, and Trash Humpers moves in an improvisational way like old home movies in your basement.
Like home movies, though, Trash Humpers gets a little strenuous and boring at 74 minutes long. Korine is aware of this, which is why there are so many little surprises that pop up now and then to keep the film fresh. Even if the sequences become repetitive, and the loose structure a little tiresome, the images are always the most prevalent parts of Korine’s films. Shots of vagrants jumping on trampolines in the middle of the street, a line of blood-splattered white shoes, and even the sight of a monolithic trash-can in the gleam of a streetlight reinforce Korine as having a keen eye for visuals. The camera work is far from crisp, but the unconventional harshness of it won my appeal.
Walking to my apartment at night sometimes, I see images like those featured in Trash Humpers. There’s a real flair for showing the night in eerily beautiful pictures, in the way the street lights hit the ground, or the way a blue awning gleams in an empty plaza. What it all adds up to is mysterious but exquisite nevertheless. The way ambient sounds drone and taper complement the images well, and whether Korine wants us to fear the night or just accept the beauty of it is never clear.
Through all the misanthropy, anti-borgeouis mentality, and crestfallen qualities of Trash Humpers, it is a curiosity piece. I’ll leave you with the same advice I gave when I wrote about Gummo: try to stick with it. You may have the urge to skip through some parts (I know I did), and you probably won’t love it. It is undoubtedly novel, and whether you see it for that reason, or if you really dig Harmony Korine or weird films in general, it’s worth checking out. It’s not on DVD or VHS yet (yes, they do plan on releasing it in its appropriate form), but Harmony Korine could care less if you find it online. For the Youtube generation, it’s feasible that a film like this could find an audience online, which, given the format, is entirely appropriate. Look what it did for the Torrette’s Guy.
