I been John O’Hara’d, McNamara’d.
I been Rolling Stone and Beatled till I’m blind.
I been Ayn Randed, nearly branded
Communist, ‘cause I’m left-handed.
That’s the hand I use, well, never mind!”
- Simon & Garfunkel, “A Simple Desultory Philipic”
Counterculture is somewhat a loaded term. While it was originally meant to denote a group that went against a cultural norm, today it has somewhat lost its definition as the country has, over time, become more of a cultural mélange, making it hard to find anything “counter” to it. Occupy Wall Street is probably the closest thing to a true counterculture I have seen in my time, at least as compared to the fight for Civil Rights, the Feminist Movement, the Hippies, the Beatniks, and the anti-Vietnam movement. Some would say that between the 60s and now, we have been complacent. Some would say that counterculture took different forms, usually artistically, in the form of punk, hip-hop, heavy metal, pop art, graffiti, etc. The three (or four, depending on how you look at them) films I am featuring today were the epitome of counterculture, one (two) at the core of the sexual and political revolutions in Sweden, one an example of political and social expression in a repressive English boarding school, and one that is probably the most recognized counterculture film of all time.
I Am Curious (Yellow) & I Am Curious (Blue) (1967-8, Vilgot Sjöman)
Director Vilgot Sjöman asked for a certain amount of money in order to make a film with complete creative freedom and no script. That film ended up to be the two-part study that is I Am Curious, split into the two colors of the Swedish flag, blue and yellow. People are on the fence about this film, and I don’t really get it. I take that back. I do somewhat understand, but time and distance has let us take a second, more studied look at what Sjöman was trying to do here. Back in 1969, Roger Ebert, two years into writing for the Chicago Sun-Times, wrote a scathingly negative review that seemed to miss the point entirely on what these revolutionary ideas were all about. Looking at that review, with all due respect to Mr. Ebert, he seems to be the epitome of the uptight “square.” He seems to miss the point that the sexual revolution was one that celebrated nature and the human body despite a variance from any “norm” of beauty.
This pair of films is a mixture of a true to life love of the director for his “star,” a young Lena Nyman, her search for answers in love, sex, and politics, a film within a film, and interviews with Swedish people about the political system. One idea that resonates with today’s America is the question of a class system and a system that favors those with privilege and wealth. My favorite part of these two films is the appearance of the then 39 year-old Swedish Minster of Transport, who later became Prime Minister, leading the Swedish Social Democratic Party. Despite the number of people interviewed in the streets, who seem to resist change and are oblivious to reality, Palme speaks the truth, even as someone with power, admitting that there is a class system, gender inequality, and problems with the educational system. The director also interviews Martin Luther King, Jr. in a refreshing and revealing scene in which he talks about the concept of non-violence. Sjöman exposes the ignorance of the majority of the public by showing a citizen saying that she doesn’t understand King because he doesn’t “fight for what he believes in.” Ugh. The tragic part of the whole thing is, a month after the second film was released, Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated, and Olaf Palme was assassinated in 1986, a true Swedish and global hero, having stood up to injustices, not only in his home country, but around the world.
The point of these films, which is couched in the title, is that curiosity of all types is the only way to get at the truth of any issue, whether sexual dynamics, politics, or social justice. The second film, Blue, which was released about six months after Yellow, features some negative viewer reaction to the first film, which somewhat resembles Ebert’s take. In a way, it is a genius move on the part of the filmmaker to include these letters as they reveal the hypocrisy and out of touch nature of the public. With no script, these films are more of an experiment and exploration into ideas rather than a narrative. Going into it with this knowledge, I think more people might be inclined to understand it. This is something I am learning in my studies to become a teacher. You get a better result if you let your students know what your goal is ahead of time. Without it, you get mixed and varied results. As one last example of the interesting and truly counterculture messages we find within these important films is a scene in which soldiers are being trained. The trainer tells them that fraternization with the enemy is a good tactic as the point is to get the two sides to understand each other, not annihilate each other, a completely alien concept in most foreign policies.
if… (1968, Lindsay Anderson)
This film is just as, if not more controversial than the I Am Curious films. Set at the beginning of a new term in an English boarding school, this film explores a repressive microcosm and a possible reaction to that repression. A young and charming Malcolm McDowell plays Mick Travis, a student at the school who is somewhere in the middle, not a newbie by any means, but not one of the “elite.” There is a definite social hierarchy going on within the school, and we see a lot of abuse from not only headmasters, but also student prefects. It’s as if we are seeing the non-magical, dark side of Harry Potter. Throughout the film, we see Mick and his friends trying to escape, sometimes physically and at others imaginatively, from the overbearing structure of the school and the injustices within. His room is papered with pictures of foreign revolutionaries and he often plays African music to set a mood.
This is most definitely a surrealist film. At several junctures, the scenes alternate between color and black and white. While this certainly evokes a reaction in the viewer, making us wonder whether we should be seeing these scenes differently, they were done as a combination of cost-saving measure and necessity due to the light coming into the large boarding school halls and rooms. Even so, certain scenes, such as the one in the diner after Mick and his friend steal BSA motorcycles, blur the line between reality and fantasy, between what is and what is in the imagination. This is the point that many critics miss about this film, taking its violent imagery too seriously and not as a warning to the causes of such violent imagery, namely the repression inherent in certain hierarchical systems. The inevitable rebellion is foreshadowed in Mick's first appearance, showing up to school in a long black coat, a black scarf around his face, and a black hat, causing one of his schoolmates to call him Guy Fawkes.
Mick and his friends seem to be seeking some kind of realistic experience or feeling outside of their school environment. They steal motorcycles, flirt with townie girls, suffocate themselves with plastic bags, and revel in the drawing of real blood during a playful swordfight in the gym. This form of escape, however, is made all too real by the violence inflicted on them, especially on Mick, by the cruel prefects. Mick gets caned an excessive number of times by his nemesis, Rowntree, and, according to school protocol, must then shake his hand and thank him for the abuse. Meanwhile, the actual headmaster of the school is near absent, never involved, and seemingly oblivious to the actions going on within his own school. In a hyper-surrealist ending, one that will certainly make some uncomfortable given some school shootings in America, Mick and his friends take to the roofs and open fire upon the school children, their families, and the teachers. At the close of the film, the title, if…, appears in red on the screen. It is a chilling reminder of what can happen if people are abused and pushed far enough. These messages are highlighted, and perhaps somewhat undercut, by others that come up during the course of the film, such as “There’s no such thing as a wrong war. Violence and revolution are the only pure acts,” and “One man can change the world with a bullet in the right place.” Again, chilling.
Easy Rider (1969, Dennis Hopper)
Despite several people having told me that they thought Easy Rider was overrated and perhaps didn’t hold up over time, I ended up absolutely loving it. It could be argued that it is the ultimate counterculture film. We all, at some time or another, at least us liberal types, connect with these types of artistic portrayals of rebellion and exploration, such as in On the Road, or perhaps books by Hunter S. Thompson, Tom Wolfe, Ken Kesey, and Tom Robbins. What these books and films show us, and can be easily seen in Easy Rider, is that these counterculture expressions are not just an empty rebellion against society, but instead an existential search for meaning and a code of ethics to live by that may not jibe with the codes of others. This is best expressed by Wyatt, played by Peter Fonda, who is often remarking on the things he admires on his journey.
Wyatt and Billy, the latter played by Dennis Hopper, are named after Wyatt Earp and Billy the Kid. The original intention was to make a modernized western, and the film still somewhat follows this model. Names and images mean everything in the film. Wyatt, like his namesake, is more attuned to find a code, more of a lawful person. His bike, helmet, and jacket are all draped in the American flag, and he is often called Captain America throughout the film. In essence, he represents a portion of Americans who are looking for an alternative to the Vietnam War fighting, unequal, and repressive society that existed at that time, and still somewhat exists today. Billy, on the other hand, is more of an outlaw. He wears the fringe leather jacket that represents an America that has been near eliminated, that of the Native American. He is often more paranoid, angry, and rebellious, wary of his surroundings.
As they begin their journey, Wyatt throws his watch away, signifying that they are no longer subject to any rules, even the rules of time. They spend time with a subsistence farmer who inspires Wyatt. He likes that he lives a somewhat simple life, supported by hard work and family. They encounter a hippie commune that exposes Billy’s pessimism as much as it reveals Wyatt’s unbridled optimism. They are two sides of counterculture America, opposite faces of the same coin. Through this journey, they are not only presenting themselves, but also different faces of America. We see the deserts of the west and the gorgeous creepers in the trees of the South. We also see the ugly side of America and its horrible prejudices, which ultimately results in a tragic fate for our counterculture heroes. Jack Nicholson, in one of his first roles as George Hanson, says it best, recounting what they represent to those who disparage and do violence against them:
George: Oh, no. What you represent to them is freedom.
Billy: What the hell is wrong with freedom? That’s what it’s all about.
George: Oh, yeah, that’s right. That’s what it’s all about, all right. But talkin’ about it and bein’ it, that’s two different things. I mean, it’s real hard to be free when you are bought and sold in the marketplace. Of course, don’t ever tell anybody that they’re not free, ‘cause then they’re gonna get real busy killin’ and maimin’ to prove to you that they are. Oh yeah, they’re gonna talk to you, and talk to you about individual freedom. But, they see a free individual, it’s gonna scare ‘em.
In a shocking scene of brutality, George is killed, a terrifying example of reality, in which those who tend to speak the truth are often punished for it. Easy Rider was a film that pretty much changed the landscape of filmmaking and ushered in a decade of realism and grittiness that will not soon be forgotten. Oh yeah, and it has one heck of a great soundtrack.
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