cinemattraction

Even Andy Warhol, who famously spoke of his belief that “in the future, everyone will be world famous for 15 minutes,” would have a hard time imagining just how prophetic the present zeitgeist has proven him. The recent reality show craze, best typified by the megalithic sensation of American Idol, has broken down the traditional wall between celebrity and everyday culture.

The rich and famous are no longer the aloof, distant figures they once were, and one need no longer be preternaturally blessed to achieve either. The appeal of American Idol, and indeed all shows of its ilk, is in knowing that those competing and winning were once us, and that we might soon be them.

There is, however, a sinister side to this. In Great World of Sound, Craig Zobel reveals the naiveté of many of those seduced by promises of fame and fortune, as well as the ruinous potential in closely subscribing to them. To do this, the first-time filmmaker (who co-wrote the screenplay with George Smith) employs an intriguing, quasi-documentary technique that results in a movie that is part fiction feature and part social experiment. It’s a challenging work, but thematically resonant and filled with a vibrant, vérité quality brought on by Zobel’s original approach.

The film follows Martin (Pat Healy) and Clarence (Kene Holliday), men hired as salesmen by the Great World of Sound record label. Their job, put simply, is to travel around the Southern and Midwestern United States, signing new, unknown acts to contracts. Yet, included in their pitch is a suspicious catch: any new signees must pay a hefty upfront fee before ever entering a recording studio.

The bulk of the picture accompanies Martin and Clarence on their travels. We watch them develop their spiels, observe the ways their contrasting styles blend together and share the multilayered connections they forge with their clients. Clarence, for example, skillfully plays up feelings of racial marginalization when talking to African-American gospel singers, while Martin believes so strongly in the talents of a young girl that he pours his own savings into her fee.

The sales scenes exude authenticity, and for a good reason. The actors give seamless, natural line readings and never seem to be playing to the camera, or even the script. That leads us to the picture’s powerful gimmick. The various auditioning individuals are not acting at all. Rather, the film’s producers placed advertisements for the record label in various local publications, attracting a wide swath of humanity linked by the common desire to make it in the industry. Zobel hid his cameras and shot the sales sequences in the Candid Camera fashion. The actors were given scriptural templates to fulfill, but could otherwise improvise, practice, and perfect their pitches.

Zobel’s method lends the movie a psychological depth that’d be difficult to achieve in conventional fictional filmmaking. The experience of watching real people negotiate their ways through genuine emotions and concerns strips the film of any artifice. It feels scarily real, almost like a behavioral case study. The typical techniques employed in a Song Sharking scheme and the persuasive and reasoned arguments the salesmen make for their product feel all the more repugnant when witnessed like this, and not through any creative filter. Most notably, the technique helps position Great World of Sound as a work of great contemporary relevance, increasing the impact of the film’s cry for a cautious, questioning approach to the current cultural free for all.

© 2007 Robert Levin. All rights reserved.

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