DIRECTOR INTERVIEW
Sheldon Schiffer,
Director and Co-producer
Relating to
the Band
Why make a documentary
about a lounge-punk cover band?
Sheldon: People
my age went to high school at a time when music and youth culture were
divided into two camps:
stoners and jocks. That was the early 80s. Then there were these
kids in the ninth grade, who one day showed up with
colored hair, grungy clothes and chains and boots. And I wondered what
gave them the idea to do that and where they
got the courage.
Then I went to
my 10-year high school reunion and met up with a few of my classmates:
the punks as well as the stoners and jocks. What I found was so interesting,
but not so surprising. A lot of them were married, had kids, owned houses,
went to college, got divorced, and had jobs - the usual middle-class stuff
just like their parents. Most of them did not end up dead from a heroine
overdose like Sid Vicious (Sex Pistols), nor did they become professional
counter-culture artists, like Exene Cervenka (the band X) and Henry Rollins
(Black Flag), or political activists, like Jello Biafra (the Dead Kennedys).
Most of them just went on living a lot like their parents. No surprise.
But what went when we grew-up is the public space to express problems.
The will to subvert and question got buried, often in booze, drugs and
consumerism. Or it got displaced by kids, job and a mortgage.
When I heard
Black Velvet Flag, I thought, "Wow, these guys got it." They
understood and reacted to the contradictions of their lives. Two of the
three were punks as teens, who were then becoming yuppies because they
didn't know what else to become. And they were conflicted about it. They
couldn't give up their lifestyle of becoming more and more middle class,
yet they couldn't stop mocking what is truly disturbing and dysfunctional
about U.S. society.
So at the moment of
Black Velvet Flag's premiere to the New York club scene (1994), young
people were smoking cigars and sipping martinis in clubs all over town
- picking up the signs of the generation that influenced their parents
- cheap booze and speed were traded for expensive gin and tobacco. Sadly,
the trade only showed the impotence of Punk and Grunge at changing most
anything in the world. That was worth documenting. That is a universal
process that today still happens.
How did you meet
Black Velvet Flag?
Sheldon: Jeff
Musser [bass player] and I went to high school together. I moved to New
York City in 1994. Jeff lived there at the time, and he told me about
the band. He really liked my last documentary film (Memories of Tata),
and he invited me to shoot a public performance of BVF. I didn't have
a job. I had just arrived in the city, and had nothing much else to do.
So, without knowing
anything about the band, other than that Jeff was in it, I got on the
subway with my Video8 camera and made my way to Brownies [a nightclub]
in the East Village. I was blown away, and so was the audience. The punk
lyrics of my youth were being sung by Fred as clearly as a Sinatra-esque
voice could, but with a case of paranoid anxiety. Jason's guitar relentlessly
gave everything a softer edge, so as to swallow the lyrics with the gin
a little easier.
After that, I was
in for the long haul. And it was a very long and curious haul. While I
met Fred [singer] and Jason [guitarist] while making the movie, it was
through Jeff that the relationship began.
When in the history
of the band did you get involved?
Sheldon: They
had done one private show and two public shows and already had a score
of press in the New York scene. Clubs all over the city had heard of them,
and getting a booking for them was pretty easy by the time I got involved.
By their third show, they had already been booked at CBGBs. That was astonishing
to me.
Would you say
this is a music documentary or a documentary about youth culture?
Sheldon: Really,
it's a comedy. Seriously. As far as the content goes, no matter how entertaining
the band was on stage, they were still a clever idea more than a trio
of great musicians. So for the film, the entertainment is not in the music
as much as in the behavior of the band members; humor is a result.
I wanted people to
watch the trials of three men as they ride their wave of fame and question
what the hell they are doing, and what the hell they want to do next.
And, I wanted people to watch and ask, "Is all this worth it?" Most of
us wish we had the guts to try, and whether we tried or not, it is a kick
watching someone else trying.
So to answer your
question: I suppose I would say it's a youth culture documentary with
a lot of music. You mentioned Penelope Spheeris in the film and the credits.
Who is she?
Sheldon: In
1980, she made a documentary called The Decline of Western Civilization.
The film launched the image of what punk was into the public sphere; some
of the important early clubs were depicted and bands were interviewed
and seen performing. Every teenager who cared, lined up for midnight shows
around LA for years after that movie was released. Black Velvet Flag's
record, Come Recline, is a parody of that film.
Back in the mid-'90s,
I had heard through the network of college radio DJs and music journalists
that Ms. Spheeris thought BVF was a cool idea. I hope Penelope sees the
movie some day, even if she hates it. I thanked her in the credits for
being an inspiration.
Making the Film
It seemed that
during part of the tour, the band was filming themselves. How did that
work?
Sheldon: Well,
this was an experiment by necessity. But at the time, I could not take
off for weeks to cover their tour. There is that Heisenberg theory about
uncertainty that says that the very act of looking at something changes
its behavior. So, call it justifying your strategies retroactively, I
don't care.
But, I think that
giving your subject a camera to film themselves for part of a documentary,
is a great way to work. Self-portraiture has as many limitations at getting
at truthfulness than does portraiture by another person's hand. But the
combined representations increases your chances that the material you
get is even more potentially truthful in that you get more perspective,
more points of view. American
High, [the PBS-aired documentary] used the same technique.
Talk about the
variety of music in the film.
Sheldon: The
band played lounge covers of hardcore New York and LA punk classics. Those
riffs are a given - well-crafted but intentionally cheesy jazz instrumentations
with clear lyrics that anyone who knows North American punk would recognize.
But then those lyrics hit you and you go, "What did I just hear?" That's
not just a gimmick. It's also another subversive way to get under people's
radar to get them to think.
By the mid-’90s,
a punk band could blow themselves up on stage and no one would care. But
to lull an audience with cool jazz while singing softly, "I don't care
about you. Fuck you." Now that got your attention. Then when we got into
postproduction we needed to extend the riffs and the rhythms over the
motion graphics, the animations and the interviews.
So Jeff Wilson [the
sound and music editor] went through every recording of every performance
of the band and sampled many little riffs and rhythms he thought he could
use. And from that, he made dozens of loops. We used about six of them,
which I think are amazing.
Also, the band wrote
and recorded as many originals as they did covers. But in the spirit of
the concept, BVF would attribute the songs to fictitious bands. A lot
of people were fooled. What does that tell you about how memory is dissolved
by media?
For how long were
you shooting the band?
Sheldon: On
and off over a period of three years for most of the material, from '94
to '97, which was the lifespan of the band. Then I shot wrap-up interviews
in late 1999. I did the final interviews after I had begun really working
with the material in postproduction. After
that, it was a long and arduous process to get the film down to a viewable
85 minutes.
How did you get
so intimate with your subjects?
Sheldon: The
camera is an extension of my eyes and my heart. To take from my subject,
I must give something. That something needs to transcend the film. For
me it is an interest in everything about that person, whether the camera
is rolling or not. Once a subject trusts the sincerity of my interest,
then that person gives a story. But while we all may want to tell our
story, we don't want to tell it to everyone. We want to tell it to those
we trust, to those who have something to learn from us, those that might
understand us, and to those who will retell our story with respectable
intentions. To gain that trust takes a lot of time. The honesty is not
just in the accuracy of the material; it is in the honesty of identifying
my own point of view as separate from the subject's. The band understood
that whatever I would make out of the material they helped me create,
my own point of view would not be hidden. I can best do this when I collaborate
with the subject.
How did they respond
to your intruding into their lives with your camera?
Sheldon: Usually
the band members respected what I was doing, and cooperated. But sometimes
they got annoyed when I would ask questions where I doubted them, or noted
when their actions contradicted their words, or intentions. What sometimes
worked was when I made a mistake with the camera and missed something,
left the mic unplugged, that kind of thing. By showing I was fallible,
it allowed them not to take me too seriously, which allowed me to get
other more truthful moments. The whole time I think they doubted anything
would ever come of the film. And that worked. The less they had invested
in performing for the camera, the more they just relaxed and ignored me,
even cracked jokes about me behind my back.
Did you work with
others to get the film finished?
Sheldon: The
collaborative efforts of Greg's [Brayton] picture editing, Jeff's [Wilson]
sound work and [Jeff] Musser's graphic design, enabled the project to
get done as a coherent work. The digital technology enabled Musser, Jennifer
Solow [Associate Producer] and Greg to remain in the West Coast with Jeff
Wilson and Jessica Denton [Associate Producer] and myself in the East
Coast here in Atlanta. We just had duplicate dubs made for the project
to live on Avids on both ends of the country. We used the internet to
transfer small sequence files back and forth. But, we absolutely had to
fly out to see each other several times.
Describe your
postproduction process.
Sheldon: Well,
let me say that I am a very systematic filmmaker in postproduction. I
create complex relational databases to really give every image and sound
I got, a chance to make it into the film. Some filmmakers work on instinct
and they use the database in their brain to divine out of the dozens of
hours, the story they are trying to tell. I do a bit of that. But, I also
believe strongly in a pseudo-scientific method of cataloging data to test
against my hypothesis and to question my instincts.
With a database,
I was able to log more than 42 hours of video footage into hundreds of
moments with keyword attributes. From this database, it was very efficient
to first do character editing. I cut the 40 hours down to three and a
half. Then I developed a story structure on paper and brought it to Greg
Brayton [editor] to make what became the first story cut. That first cut
was around the same length the film is now. We just had to argue about
some sequences leaving and getting replaced by others through the subsequent
three cuts. Greg did a phenomenal job. Then, I worked the important details
of sound, and animation. That took hundreds of hours and a lot of learning
of new software and hardware.
Let me say that this
was my first digital feature project. I made a few shorts with the digital
tools, but never a feature.
Other than digital
tools used for organizing your material, were there other benefits from
the computer that you used in your filmmaking?
Sheldon: Considering
that I learned filmmaking in the mid-eighties using a flatbed and a 16mm
camera, the benefits of digital photography and computerized postproduction
are enormous. I will never go back. I don't romanticize celluloid anymore.
But what was wonderful beyond the obvious benefits of non-linear editing
was the motion graphic animation of documents. In my last documentary,
I used a copy stand and shot stills and documents while panning and zooming
across their surface with a zoom lens. Using animation software, and scanning
my documents at very high resolutions, I was able to zoom, pan, spin and
slide documents with great precision, all digitally, without a camera.
Granted, all of this was 100 times more time-consuming than setting up
a copy stand. I would say that for the aesthetic of this film, I think
I made the right choice. But still, the copy stand is a wonderful tool
that is perfectly useful for a lot of document photography.
I only used a digital
camera for the wrap-up interviews, and that was because I felt that since
the band members were older, I wanted to give the last interviews a look
that would date it with the current technology of the day. I converted
the interviews to black and white to put the emphasis on the voice and
facial expression of the speaker, and color was corrected to emphasize
the more subjective qualities of the documents and the veritè footage.
The Filmmaker
Relates to Punk
What is your own
history with punk?
Sheldon: I
was never really a punk as a teen. I had one older cousin and one older
step-brother who went to the shows that I couldn't go to. They went to
the Starwood [Los Angeles] and the Palladium [Los Angeles] in 1979 and
'80, and told me stories about slamming and pulsing in a crowd. Stories
about fans who would cut themselves open with broken glass. It sounded
interesting. When I got to be old enough to actually look like the driver's
license picture of one of my 18 year old friends, I snuck into a show
and saw X, which was my favorite band. I pushed my way to the front at
the foot of the stage and reached out to touch the hand of Exene Cervenka
as she pointed the microphone to the few of us who could take the pulsing
pressure of the slamming pit behind us. Our voices screamed out her lyrics,
"We're desperate, get used to it." And she just smiled and trusted that
we wouldn't maul her. We were all of course in love with her.
Later I saw Penelope
Spheeris' The Decline of Western Civilization in a theater in Orange
County and found myself among a crowd of tense posing teens, all clamoring
to see themselves in a movie about the music that captured their identity.
These were the days when I believed that in spite of the record companies
and the stadium concerts, something secret and truthful was being made
by teens. One of the saddest days of high school was when we learned Darby
Crash [The Germs] had died. That was proof that our heroes were mortal.
But to hear people
you knew on KROQ (LA radio) talk to people you could see playing at the
Whiskey-a-Go-Go or see in a film, that was amazing to me. In 1982 I saw
The Who and The Clash at the L.A. Colliseum with 100 thousand people and
I thought, "OK, that was cool, but that was such a fabricated and alienating
spectacle compared to what I had seen up close with just a few friends
at the Boys Club of Orange County - Agent Orange, The Adolescents, Social
Distortion, DOA." Now, the kind of excitement of seeing a garage band
in your hometown at a club is just a normal thing that people do. Then
when I got older, I read The Boy Who Looked at Johnnie, Subcultures, Lipstick
Traces, I bought issues of Punk fanzines. Then I wrote this project that
attempted to merge a lot of ideas about politics, cultural theory and
music history. Since then, a lot of people have written books on the subject.
So this movie is really my second investigation.
What is your point
of view?
Sheldon: I
appreciate the contradictions and the eternal negotiation between that
part of us that is beholden to our youthful activist subversive ideals
and that part of us that lazily accepts and even longs for the middle-class
security that our parents regard so highly. The two coexist and contradict.
It was a strange moment when I opened up a retirement account. Small as
it may be, the thought of participating in the economic system that thrives
on conformity and predictable behavior gives me a chill. But somehow,
these two poles co-exist in all of us. We want to see ourselves as becoming
rock stars who question and subvert, and we want to one day live in a
cozy safe neighborhood - the usual bourgeois desires.
What other films
have you made or are making now?
Sheldon: I
made a film called Memories of Tata, which was about manhood, and
how it played itself out in my family. It was about my relationship with
my grandfather, and his relationship with his wife and two daughters.
The stories evolved as I, caught in the middle of an unearthed mystery
of hate and resentment, had to take care of his dead body. It's a pretty
grim little movie, personal, yet a common story.
And, presently I am
making another movie called Comeuppance, about ethnic tensions
in the Southern U.S. exurbs -those neighborhoods on the far edges of the
suburbs that used to be white and rural, and that are now becoming Latino,
Jewish, Asian and African-American. This one is fiction, but it is told
from the point of view of a spoken-word African-American woman poet who
gets caught in the middle. And, it references real historical events -
the Crown Heights riots.
How does The Rise
and Fall of Black Velvet Flag fit in with other movies you have made?
Sheldon: My
documentary work is really about my experiences, and the questions I have
of them. All of my films are personal in the sense that you can be sure
that I have lived through something that you are seeing. I make these
movies because I want to understand the subject. Filmmaking is such a
gigantic process - with all of the collaboration around technology - it
has a way of making you think about the subject, even if you don't want
to. I don't really deeply understand things until I at least begin to
take pictures of them or begin to make interviews.
If I actually start
to shoot film or tape, edit and listen to the sound, then I may begin
to have knowledge that otherwise would have escaped me. I must admit,
it's a disease that filmmakers have, to which I am not interested in a
cure.
The Film's
Audience
Who do you think
this film was made for, and why do you think they should see it?
Sheldon: I
made it especially for people about my age, give or take 10 years, who
were entertained by and perhaps identified themselves as punks. It's made
for people who lived through youth culture of some sort or another, and
who found them selves wondering what to do next with their lives. For
some of those people, it meant accepting the values of their parents.
For others, it meant negotiating those values. The band members each had
different takes on what they would do with their futures.
Their dreams of a
future is what every 29 to 39 year old experiences - they wanted an exceptional
life, and they wanted things their parents had. This struggle within the
band and in each band member was what made their story worth making a
film about; there was conflict built-in. Black Velvet Flag allowed themselves
to want the fame, and yet they did ultimately discover if they wanted
that or not. That's real, and that's what most people can identify with
- the struggle to find out if they want it or not. For the few brave souls
who make bands and go out into the world to find their destiny, I made
this film.