FullMetal_Atheist Blog

Seminal Texas Psyche-Rock band The 13^th Floor elevators were an influence on artists as diverse as Janis Joplin, Patti Smith and ZZ Top.  If you’ve never heard of them, don’t feel too bad. After heroic doses of various psychotropic substances lead elevator Roky Erickson suffered a nervous breakdown and the band imploded, remaining little more than a cult footnote in the history of psychedelic pop.  The Who jamming with The Doors might be a, somewhat unsatisfying, description of the Elevators sound although we don’t really hear enough of their music in You’re Gonna Miss Me – the story of Erickson’s burnout, wilderness years and gradual rehabilitation.

Diagnosed with schizophrenia at the height of the bands success Erikson fled to San Francisco and began a devastating heroin binge. Busted for possession on his return to Texas he was declared insane and sent to the infamous Rusk mental hospital.

However, this wasn’t exactly the end of Erikson’s musical career. While in the hospital, which at the time seems to have been more Victorian bedlam than place of rehabilitation, he formed a band with a motley crew of murderers and rapists. Released in 1972, Erikson attempted to articulate his experiences by writing and recording some extraordinary sounding music that went largely unnoticed.

The documentary is predominantly made up of recent footage of Roky, now living in relative obscurity with his elderly mother, at home in Austin, Texas. With seemingly little interest in his previous life it remains unclear how much of Erickson’s muddled state is the result of drug abuse, shock therapy received at Rusk or other factors. We see him sitting around listening to white noise on the radio or watching bad Saturday morning anime.  A British music journo, working on a biography, comes visiting but Erickson answers his questions in a staccato manner and declines a copy of the early draft.  His mother, a devout Christian, discourages her son from psychiatric help or taking medication insisting he must seek aid from the divine.

Erikson’s two brothers have an extremely frayed relationship with mom (who, frankly, comes off as mad as box of frogs) culminating in a ‘custody battle’ of sorts for guardianship of their sibling. You’re Gonna Miss Me really wants to be as much about the breakdown of this family unit as the breakdown of its protagonist, but it only partly succeeds.  One problem is that this sort of thing has been done before and far more dramatically too.  Brian Wilson, the patron saint of music genius burnout, had his story told in Don Was’ fascinating I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times and the breakdown of the family has, most recently, been handled in documentaries as diverse as Capturing The Friedmans and Crumb.  It’s strongly reminiscent of the latter, in particular, although the creepy voyeurism that made Crumb so compelling is absent here.  As harsh as it might sound, the other problem is that this story just isn’t that interesting. There really doesn’t appear to be much to differentiate Erikson’s story from any one of a thousand others that could have been picked randomly from the big book of Rock’n’Roll history. The film has an unfussy, almost downbeat, style which be commendable if the material were stronger. As it is, You’re Gonna Miss Me doesn’t really have the crossover appeal of The Devil & Daniel Johnston – another recent documentary about a semi-obscure Austin songwriter with mental health issues.  Whereas Johnston has a sort of quirky charisma it’s actually rather depressing to spend 90 minutes in the company of Erikson and his squabbling family.  File under: Die-hard  Elevators fans only.

Israel, 1981. Recently widowed mother-of-two Rachael (Michaela Eshet)
applies for a position on the founding committee of a new settlement
on the West Bank. Meanwhile, her eldest daughter has embarked on an
ill-fated relationship with an army conscript while the younger is
beginning to come to terms with her own sexuality.
Given the setting and the above synopsis, one could be forgiven for
thinking that American-born Joseph Cedar's Campfire would be a rather
po-faced, worthy affair. However, any fears in that department are
quickly put to rest with the opening narration from the younger
daughter,  Tami (Hani Furstenberg), who assures us that this year she
means to 'Be happy, no matter what.'  It's ironic then that the sweet
and appealing Tami gets the roughest deal of the three as the film
progresses towards the titular campfire.
Cedar's cast of characters is uniformly likeable, with strong
performances all around and a fine sense of time and place, hideous
eighties fashions included.  Having said that, the framing device of
Tami's narration suggests a coming-of-age tale that never really
materialises.  Cedar himself seems to like his characters too much to
allow anything really dramatic to happen to them and, although there
are some standout scenes (especially between Rachael and would-be
suitor Yossi - a fine, bittersweet performance by Moshe Ivgy) they
don't really build to an emotionally satisfying climax.
The setting, too, has a vague air of novelty about it. The politics of
Rachael's decision to move her family to a new settlement are never
explored, apart from her remark that she 'believes in the cause',
although it's never made clear if even this remark is truthful or an
attempt to sway to male-ccentric settlement committee to allow her to
join. Campfire could really be set anywhere, at anytime, in the last
thirty years and perhaps that's the point. Certainly Rachael is a
strong-minded woman in a society where such things are frowned upon
but even this is not examined with much depth. Possibly Cedar, mindful
of the slew of films on the Middle-East conflict, chose to steer clear
of the era's politics but a little more context would have benefited
the film greatly.
All of which is not to say that Campfire isn't worth your time. The
excellent performances alone are enough to recommend the film, just
don't expect anything particularly original or enlightening.