Day Five: The Indie Aesthetic

Killer Diller

::	FILM DAY FIVE: The Indie Aesthetic By Tobias Peterson

The “independent” label is thrown around with reckless abandon these days. And lately, the term has come to signify more than just an institutional outsider. Where once a film was independent because it wasn’t financed and distributed by one of the major studios, films today are discussed as having an indie “feel” to them. Super 8 footage, a disjointed narrative, or the appearance of Vincent Gallo alone may be enough to earn a film indie cred, even though it may enjoy a full studio backing. This slide from a question of economics to issues of aesthetics speaks to the rising popularity of “alternative” films (the arguable legacy of successful indies like The Blair Witch Project), which somehow seem hipper or more authentic to audiences by virtue of their unconventional aspects.

The other side of the coin is the issue of legitimately independent films that act like their studio counterparts. Not every film outside the pale of big budgets and catered lunches is reveling in its obscurity. There are, in fact, a great many indies dressed in studio clothing, trying desperately to imitate their conventional brethren in the hopes of national (or global) distribution. Interestingly, the final official day of the film portion of SXSW offered an indie film trying to be mainstream, and a mainstream film striking its best indie pose.

The night of its screening, Killer Diller had all the trappings of an indie darling, playing to an enthusiastic crowd comprised primarily of the film’s cast and crew and what must have been their extended families. The film tells the story of a group of delinquent young adults somewhere in the deep South, who get a second chance at life by staying at the “Back On Track Again (BOTA)” house at a Baptist college, a halfway home operated by Ned Sears (played by the always hilarious Fred Willard).

Ned’s idea is to rehabilitate this troubled youth through music, and so he leads them through a series of tuneless hymns for various small audiences around the college. All this changes, however, at the appearance of Vernon (Lucas Black), an autistic piano player who is discovered by the group’s guitarist Wesley (William Lee Scott). Despite flying into uncontrolled rages that can only be alleviated by sliced tomatoes, Vernon is a musical genius, and his addition to the mix turns the group into the Killer Diller Blues Band (borrowing one of Vernon’s favorite expressions).

It’s not hard to guess where things go from here. The story of a group of misfits doing well for themselves in the face of impossible odds is nothing that hasn’t been done before. (The film, actually, is based on a Clyde Edgerton novel of the same name). Killer Diller has “heartwarming” written all over it and is riddled with cliches and tired formulas designed to tug at audiences’ heartstrings. The stodgy dean of the local college is (for no apparent reason) bent on shutting down the BOTA house and ending the Killer Diller Blues Band. Will the group overcome this obstacle? Will Vernon gain independence through his newfound friends? Will the film end in a musical montage that speaks to the “triumph of the human spirit”? The answers to these questions are never in doubt.

As a result, Killer Diller is entirely predictable and predictably safe. It could easily pass for a Disney film if it wasn’t screening as an independent at SXSW. As such, it is also an important reminder that independent does not always mean interesting or different. The tired formulas trotted out in so many studio films provide equal fodder for those films that are simply trying to join the club.

Blind Horizon

One such club member that would sooner deny its affiliations is Blind Horizon. The stars alone (Val Kilmer, Neve Campbell, even Faye Dunaway) mark this film as mainstream long before the Lion’s Gate distribution credit rolls. Still, the film does its best to adopt the narrative and visual techniques pioneered in independents like Memento.

Kilmer plays Frank Kavanaugh, a dark stranger in a rural town in New Mexico who has the misfortune of being in shot in the head and rendered an amnesiac. Soon after he awakens, Frank’s wife Chloe (Campbell) shows up, much to the suspicion of local sheriff Jack Kolb (Sam Shepard). Frank and Jack set about trying to piece together the circumstances surrounding Frank’s assault, while Chloe tries to ease Frank’s troubled mental state.

This trouble increases when Frank realizes that he is somehow aware of a plot to assassinate the President. The plan, known ominously as “Rhombus,” is revealed piecemeal in a series of grainy flashbacks that feature Frank with some underworld types (including Faye Dunaway) discussing an unspecified plan to be carried out according to unspecified directions.

Like many conspiracy movies, the film draws heavily on the Kennedy legend, dropping terms like “triangulation of fire,” the “kill zone,” and even showcasing shady dealings held inside a movie theater. It’s not this obvious historical derivative, however, that’s most distracting about the film. Instead, Blind Horizon is rife with weak attempts to out-Memento Memento. Frank (and the audience) is tormented by tantalizing clues about his connection to the assassination plot, all of which are rendered in speedily cut flashbacks that increase in frequency as the movie progresses. Rather than using his character’s amnesia as a way to subvert conventional narrative (as in Memento) though, the film is fairly predictable fare that is so punctuated with these flashbacks that they become simply cuts for cuts’ sake.

The difficulties of both Killer Diller and Blind Horizon point to a blurring of the line that separates notions of independent and studio film. One the one hand, “indie” is an aesthetic pose to strike by major studios in a bid to capitalize on the success of less conventional, less visible films. This is not to presume, however, that this pose is the goal for every film. The slick, safe formulas that have proven successful staples of major studio films are as likely to be adopted by independents in their own bids for success. As both of these films demonstrate, the grass is always greener on the other side of the indie fence.