The Special People
Art: the film The Special People
Experienced: on Blu-ray, bought from Vinegar Syndrome’s website
I got The Special People as one of four Blu-rays I bought from Vinegar Syndrome a while back, with two of the other films also being from their partner distributor, Art Label. If this is any indication of the experimental work this label is putting out, then I'm excited to watch the other two I bought--plus one more from the label I bought in a massive Vinegar Syndrome shopping spree where they had their partner labels discounted for up to 70% off. All of Vinegar Syndrome's releases seem to be packed with extra features. The Special People is no exception. I'm excited to dig into those special features when I get the chance. I'd love to hear the thought process behind this film.
Where to begin with this film?
The visuals are spectacular in their cheapness. The whole film, according to the back cover, is shot in a single apartment, and it shows. There are no wide shots because a wide shot would pass the edges of the crudely constructed sets and reveal the apartment underneath. So the film almost feels claustrophobic with its smallness, but that smallness creates intimacy as well.
The sets themselves are basically middle school theater productions (said affectionately). The trees are just made of paper, the water is just a sparkly blanket on the floor, and even a house's window is just painted on the wallpaper. None of this is a critique of the film. It's quite endearing. It adds to the fairy-tale vibes of the film, as though we are witnessing a child's construction of what this world should look like.
Speaking of vibes, this film has them in spades. Or, really, it has variations on one specific vibe, and that vibe is immaculately crafted. The hazy visuals and cropped aspect ratio of VHS, the bright yet desaturated color palette of the costumes and sets, the repetitive soft synths and guitar strums of the soundtrack, the acting that is somehow both exaggerated and relaxed, the naive tone of the dialogue, the lack of any diegetic sound--including even spoken dialogue (it's all communicated through subtitles). It all comes together to create a dreamy feel to the whole experience. That vibe is really what you come to this film for. It takes a little bit to settle in--I found myself questioning how they would stretch this film to two hours as my attention drifted early on--but once you've fully entered this world, it sucks you in deeper. All the film's quirks and idiosyncrasies feel harmonious. It's the kind of film that transports you somewhere new--not just a new world, but a new frame of mind.
Thematically, there's good stuff to be mined here. There's questions about love and destiny and community and hope and even a brief meta-textual discussion of art itself. The film starts out with an achingly un-nuanced and cliche critique of the internet that basically boils down to "phone bad". The film makes direct references to the time period before the internet--directly addressing the 80s and it's music--as well as the way advertisers track our data. The cubes are unambiguous stand-ins for the internet, and hearing the characters talk about them at the beginning of the film is annoying and, furthermore, detracts from the fairy-tale atmosphere. Thankfully, the discussion of the cubes becomes less prevalent once the main characters leave the Forest and begin their journey. Once you get past the lack of nuance in the "internet bad" take, there's good stuff to consider here.
More than anything, I'm glad I watched this film because of how inspiring it was. One of the first things my friend, who watched the film with me, said after we finished the movie was "I could make this". This was not the cold dismissal of a modern-art hater claiming their child could make that painting. It was genuine excitement--this is a whole movie, and I could make this. I left the film's world with the same feeling. You really can make a whole fantasy world in your apartment with just some fun wall paper, props from Party City, a few friends, and determination. Sure, it'll look fake as hell, but the artifice can become part of the aesthetic. The fact that anyone could make it is not a mark against the film, but a gleeful invitation. This film is a reminder that art—including filmmaking--is for everyone.