"Hedwig and the Angry Inch" constitutes the last of the indie quartet recently topping my Netflix queue, as well as an overlapping segue into the subsequent string of five LGBT-themed films that are next, all of which were nominated for Oscars. Hedwig was not nominated for an Oscar, but it won at least one Independent Spirit Award. I was interested in this film for a few reasons. First, I have some friends (of a certain persuasion) who simply adore this film, and I kind of wanted to be a part of the fan club or at least see what all the fuss was about. Second, it is a musical, and as a theater-addict, and as the film is based on a previous stage version, I was naturally drawn to it – plus, it has somewhat of a cult following in the vein of the Rocky Horror (Picture) Show, and I tend to enjoy those quirky, off-the-wall selections that no certifiably mainstream movie or theatre fan enjoys. Third, I've been craving something a little different in film lately, so it was fortuitous indeed that Hedwig happened to be at the queue's apex at this time. Hedwig is definitely a little different – in fact, there was clearly a design on the part of writer, star, and director John Cameron Mitchell to make it very different, even if at times, while watching the film, it felt like he was trying too hard to do so.
Mitchell plays the title role, as Hedwig and her band, the Angry Inch, tour shopping malls and a chain of dive restaurants in semi-major metropolitan areas across the country. Hedwig belts out her guttural yet biographical brand of rock music and delivers edgy quips while telling her story in flashback. Born young Hansel in East Berlin, in the year the wall was erected, he amuses himself by dancing on his mother's bed in their tiny, one-room apartment and by listening to American rock 'n' roll while his single mother cares for him (having evicted his father, who molested him when he was younger, from the home). As Hansel grows into his own sexual curiosity, he encounters an American GI named Luther, who falls for him and promises to whisk him away to America, provided that he get a sex change operation, as military men can only marry women. Hansel's mother endorses the idea in the hopes that he escapes Communist Germany, and bequeathing her name, Hedwig, to him, finds money to pay for the operation; however, it's botched, and Hedwig is left with a non-functional inch of flesh where her penis used to be. To rub salt into this ripening wound, on their one-year wedding anniversary, Luther leaves Hedwig at their trailer park for a man. In her anger, Hedwig seeks refuge in music, first playing with a quartet of Korean army wives; however, she meets young teenager Tommy (Michael Pitt), who is deeply religious and interested in mysticism and mythology. He is also sexually curious and likely gay, and, together, Hedwig and Tommy explore a tentative and intimate love relationship while writing songs together. Hedwig even christens Tommy "Gnosis," after a particular sect of Christian belief that elevates Eve and other female Biblical personae. The trouble is that Tommy, after an encounter with Hedwig's angry inch, abandons her and steals her music, getting rich and famous in the process. Thus, Hedwig and her band, consisting of her current lover Yitzhak (Miriam Shor), who dreams of dressing in drag but outwardly remains male for Hedwig, make due by playing for disinterested crowds in restaurants and malls near Tommy's headlining locations.
I liked Hedwig. I didn't love the film, though, mostly because I didn't relate to it much (and I've never seen the stage version, so I had no basis for comparison). The themes explored in this film touch religion, spirituality, and identity, not only sexual and gender identity but also self-identity as it relates to love. There were some powerful images, and the songs pretty much rocked. I particularly enjoyed "The Origin of Love." In fact, the singular most appealing part of the film is the musically rich and powerful songs delivered in a tour de force performance by Mitchell.
Because, while the music may be the soul of the movie, the magic and heart behind Hedwig is the man who created her in word and who played her both in the film and in the initial stage version. Mitchell oozes pure charisma, and the script/book, which he wrote, contains some acidly funny one-liners and observations about life and identity in addition to some emotionally powerful passages that Mitchell delivers with true panache. Since the film is Hedwig's story, Mitchell's performance as the main character was particularly vital in creating a connection to the viewer, whether the topic is ultimately relatable or no.
The film, however, lost focus, somewhat ironically, in its direction and cinematography. I think Mitchell, in the transition to celluloid, wanted to up the ante of the visual experience by employing a hodgepodge of different camera angles, techniques, and lighting palates. At one point, for example, the camera, in a jauntily vertical 360, encircles Hedwig's adult head in a mirror of his childhood (while he's laying in the oven). In fact, when the story is told in flashback or in a dream sequence, the techniques were visually interesting and often reflective of the primary emotions being conveyed; however, the more emotionally intense scenes, such as the intimate exchanges with Tommy, employed a more straightforward, visually uninteresting technique, which makes narrative sense but did not adequately draw focus to the budding relationship in a way that justified Hedwig's later obsession. Also, Mitchell's performance wavered in the scenes where more straightforward dialogue was used, and Pitt's heartbreakingly haunting performance also lost some of its luster when his character interacted with Hedwig, as if the two actors weren't all that comfortable together. In other scenes, such as the concert/gig scenes, the imagery and lighting played with colored strobe effects that ultimately felt too busy, even if the intention was to punctuate Hedwig's unresolved anger. In essence, the general visual ideas could be classified as extremely theatrical in presentation, and the lack of consistency could be symbolic of Hedwig's long, up-and-down road to self-acceptance, but it rendered the film version of this unusual tale disjointed in pacing and, thus, in this viewer's interest.
The other notable element of this film was Hedwig's fantastic costumes and wigs. Their raucously colorful and occasionally sparkly design further added to the theatricality of the piece.
I enjoyed hearing Hedwig's tale and her recounting of her journey toward making peace with herself and her surroundings, since that is ultimately the road the story travels. This lesson is a worthy one for really anyone seething from anger at life and the cars they've been dealt. As I'm pretty happy with my identity (for the most part), I would not run right out and buy this one, so the test does not pass. In the realm of wacky gender-bending, cross-dressing musical comedy with cult followings, I prefer The Rocky Horror Picture Show (though I can't be called a fan, complete with the shouted echoes). Still, as a filmmaking effort, Hedwig and the Angry Inch is entertaining and offers a powerful and interesting story, so I am inclined to rate the film a 7.5 between minor flaws/very good and shaky/entertaining. I also think the film is recommendable to anyone interested in a witty, truthful yarn who is otherwise not offended by such a nakedly in-your-face topic.