Back in 2018, the Tribeca Film Festival conducted their annual curation of animated short films. Within that year’s set was a short film entitled The Velvet Underground Played At My High School. What will resonate as the short concludes is not necessarily the band itself but the varying experiences of those who had been in attendance — particularly the film’s narrator. Through the chaotic sounds emerging from onstage, the short’s narrator recounts others leaving, visually disgusted with the sound and even lyrics of the underground band, the narrator himself unsure, though unwilling to leave. While most would exit the auditorium, he and a small caucus would listen to the band’s three song set, their lives forever moved by the unique sound that had engulfed them. And while they were only an opening act, The Velvet Underground would leave a lasting impression.
This love and passion was just as clearly emulated within each element of The Velvet Underground, a documentary film brought to life by director Todd Haynes. From the first opening seconds to its last, The Velvet Underground sets out to not only capture the band, but the world of underground art they were immersed and found success within. As much as the band defied convention, so too does this documentary, embracing the avant-garde that defined a movement.
Rewinding the Hands of Time
The film opens as its should: with the music. For what seems like minutes, the screen stays black, the seemingly chaotic sounds of the band filling the room. Where people in the history of The Velvet Underground have left, everyone in the theater stays seated. As the music engulfs the audience, the chaotic sounds are matched by a fast paced, split screen of imagery and voice over. Winston cigarette ads take over, followed by various commercials and time stamping audio. In an instant, audiences know and understand this is not a typical documentary, rather a brilliantly crafted to capture the unique history surrounding the rise and fall of The Velvet Underground.
As the music and imagery fall to the side, the split-screen remains. On one side is singer Lou Reed, a black and white video filmed by Andy Warhol that could easily be mistaken for a portrait if it weren’t for the blinking. On the other side of the split-screen, the documentary itself plays out, a background of Reed provided. The film utilizes this introductory style for each of the figures it wants to introduce. When talking heads are presented, the split-screen is less dramatic, a black screen filling a quarter to a third of the screen. But as the history of the band picks up, the film dives more into the avant-garde underground, the split-screen becoming multifaceted, its two dimensions broken into twelve screens, each cube begging for your attention.
Not all notes hit the mark
The Velvet Underground is a unique documentary for a unique viewer. Much like the band’s music, not all will be enthralled with its structure of storytelling, its chaotic visuals matching the sounds that accompany it. The surrealist avant-garde, while enhancing this unique documentary, at times works to the film’s detriment, distracting from the very individuals it wants us to care about. Is this a preference of style? Probably, but for many viewers, it may be difficult to garner and retain their attention.
Some of the talking heads address the audience under the assumption that their viewers know the band and its history. While sometimes it can be attributed to the editing, bringing a talking head on-screen in the middle of the sentence, other times, audiences are left deducing who is at the center of the conversation. Again, threatening the grip it has on its viewers.
While this limits the audience in attention and understanding, the film’s dive into the world of underground art, while at times vital, leaves some confusion as to who the documentary is really about. At points, it seemed to be about Andy Warhol, The Velvet Underground a major aspect of his successes. Stepping away from the film, it also begs the question of whether this is a documentary on film culture, particularly the culture that bore out of Ludlow street and the factory. Either way, it again tries too hard to recapture the avant-garde underworld of the time that it forgets its audience – or to welcome a new one.
Conclusion: The Velvet Underground
More often then not, The Velvet Underground wields the hands of time, recapturing and evolving into a time capsule of art within a new wave style of documentary. Throughout its entirety, it tries and usually succeeds in emulating the artistic energy and vibe of its subjects. Primed to make a brilliant double feature with Nico 1988, The Velvet Underground is a vital reclamation of the underground art of a band that was unafraid to embrace and look at the world just a bit differently. And while it may not hit the mark for all, it is sure to be an inspiration for many.
What are your thoughts on The Velvet Underground? Let us know in the comments below.
The Velvet Underground will play at the New York Film Festival on October 13, 2021.
Watch The Velvet Underground
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