i am trying to break your heart

ok, only 13 years late to the party on this one.

I'll preface this review by letting y'all know that I watched this documentary two years ago, when I was hemorrhaging blood after having had surgery for cervical cancer. So I may have not been in the best of moods.

(And then for some reason, sat on this, and 26 other pieces that I'd written for the blog for two years? Maybe they were extra absorptive. Bloody awful puns. too much? heh.)

But I was going through a phase of watching music documentaries, and every music person I knew at the time was creaming themselves over Wilco and this movie, so, in an expansive moment (or maybe because I needed to hate watch something), I watched it.

I just don’t see what the big deal about Wilco is. Still don’t. I can’t bring myself to care enough to actually hate their music, I just find it kind of…bland. (and apparently I’m not pulling any punches today either)

So, I watched I Am Trying to Break Your Heart. And I can’t honestly say that I remember a single one of the songs from the movie. Although, I was impressed by the skill of the musicians and the care that they were actually putting into the craft of their songs. Entertainingly, I’ve gotta juxtapose this movie against Katy Perry’s Part of Me, where the care wasn’t put so much into the music but into the marketing. 

All of which brings to mind a line from Ani DiFranco’s Fuel (of course it does. because I was raised by feminists and came of age in the 90s.): people used to make records/ as in a record of an event/ the event of people playing music in a room/ now everything is cross-marketing/ its about sunglasses and shoes/ or guns and drugs/ you choose.

My lovely, ham-handed, comparison to Katy Perry aside, Wilco is definitely about making a record of the event of people playing music in a room, which I think is just a beautiful thing. Regardless of whether or not I actually like their music, it is a joy to watch people creating together, and employing their skills to make something that they love, and that touches a huge number of people that are not me.

Additionally, the struggles that the band had with their label really bring the whole marketing machine of the music business to the forefront, in a way that Katy Perry’s film doesn’t. Perry doesn’t want to bite the hand that feeds her. Wilco just wants to make the music that they want to make. It’s a fascinating take on what artistic integrity means in the internet age, methinks.

Also interesting are the various forms that each song went through in the movie, as compared to how they ended up on the album. I’ve been having a discussion with a friend about what actually constitutes a song, given that we’re frequently hearing the prototype, studio album, and the live versions of each. If a band like the Grateful Dead (or Wilco, to keep me back on track) plays a song differently every time they play it live, then what exactly is at the core of that piece of music that makes it recognizably itself? But this is definitely a thought for another post. 

However, one of the things that I found absolutely fascinating, is that none of the reviews of the movie that I’ve read (and thus far, 100% written by men), have mentioned what an absolute dick Jeff Tweedy is. Is it that there is an expectation that our so-called geniuses are always going to be utter assholes? Does he get a pass because these people love his music so much? Is it because men are writing it, and they’re used to seeing such dickishness put on display, so it becomes a standard mode of behavior - something not to be questioned? 

And don’t get me wrong, I’m not just calling out the portions of the movie where he and Bennett had a tiff out of some misplaced sympathy for Bennett (as he was acting like a whiny child). Tweedy just genuinely came off as a total asshat for most of the movie. All of which is why I generally tend not to read interviews or do a lot of background research on my favorite musicians, or meet them when I have the chance (although Shirley Manson of Garbage is a fucking awesome human, just for the record), because I don't want their music to be ruined for me by their assholery. (probably another post here too)

Fortunately, I was already meh on Wilco, so Tweedy's behavior didn't ruin jack shit for me. And, you know, it's always kind of entertaining to watch somebody make an ass out of themselves on screen, which probably accounts for the popularity of the Kardashians, Kanye West, and any reality show.

It's so fluffy! I'm going to die! (of boredom)

In which I try to figure out exactly which part of Katy Perry the movie "Part of Me" portrays.

Confession time: Sometimes when I'm alone at night with my craft beer and my knitting and my 30 cats (ok so there are only two, but one of them is the pain in the ass equivalent of 30), I'll get extra fluffy and watch something. It would be so much cooler if I said it was something sexy, but usually it's something that Mr. Deviant doesn't give a shit about.

I figured the Katy Perry movie was a pretty safe bet, as Mr. Deviant is a male of the heterosexual variety.

And, safe it was. 

After watching it, I felt... nothing?

Ok, look, I'm a sarcastic, cynical bitch (if you hadn't already figured that out), and while I usually heckle tv and movies, especially the ones I like, I couldn't bat aside my ennui enough to actually find anything to snark on while watching this thing. 

The overarching blandness of the film... it just didn't touch me one way or the other. Katy Perry seemed nice. Her tour seemed nice. Her breakup with Russell Brand seemed absolutely bloodless. Her sister, brother and parents seemed nice. 

No, I'm not fooling myself into thinking that this movie, commissioned by the evil empire that controls Katy Perry's career, is at all the truth. I think that maybe bits and pieces of the truth may have been inadvertently left in the movie here and there, where nobody noticed it. 

On the whole, this was one of the most banal things I've ever sat all the way through. I couldn't even get inspired enough to turn the fucking thing off.

Shit, at least Shine a Light disgusted me enough to walk out. And that was some lame ass starfuckery.

It was a weird experience. I usually have strong feelings about (all the) things one way or another, and you'd think that bright colors and glitter would have been enough to elicit at least SOME reaction out of me.

I actually like Katy Perry's music. I didn't really care about I Kissed a Girl, but Teenage Dream and Prism, I've purchased, and regularly listen to a few tracks from both albums. 

The fluff, the tight song-writing, and (admitting it) the bright colors and glitter appeal to me. I enjoy the good girl-gone-wacky  n' wild vibe that she puts out. And it cracks me the fuck up that she calls her cat/mascot "Kitty Purry." 

Photo via Perez Hilton

So why didn't this silly movie connect with me? Have I actually reached the age where I refuse to look for meaning in the completely vapid? Is it just too fluffy? Is there such a thing?