Ronnie Bronstein is unlike anyone else I’ve ever met. Whip smart and endlessly self-deprecating, Ronnie’s acidic humor masks a sweetness and empathetic quality that’s rare for someone so talented and driven. His feature debut Frownland was for many, this humble author included, the definitive independent film of 2007, one that brings real credence back to that oft used, barely meaningful term. It screens this thursday at BAM.
What films or television shows have you seen recently?
God. Not much. I’ve been sort of avoiding movies more and more. Mostly cause my own rickety grasp over my new project has turned me into a petty, anxious and wretchedly egocentric viewer. Basically, either a movie is great and decimates my confidence or it’s not and wastes my time….which is just a horrible way to look at stuff. Though, I did recently get my hands on these two mind-blowing documentaries from the late 60’s by a filmmaker named Allan King, Warrendale and A Married Couple. Very much in the vein of Frederick Wiseman, but more intimate, less detached. Anyway, both of these movies absolutely cracked me in half. Particularly ‘A Married Couple’, which is just this staggeringly universal portrait of all the quotidian resentments, psychic warfare and argumentative tape-loops that seem to gum up communication between people who ostensibly love one another. That one hit me super hard.
Does your interest in them have anything to do with your own work as a filmmaker? How do the films that you think of as “influences” affect your own style and preoccupations as a filmmaker?
Well, yeah, like I tried to say before, I’m a terrible viewer these days. I’m stuck in some kind of horrid siphon-mode, looking purely to see what I can take and use. And this agenda gets in the way of my ability to submit to or prostrate myself in front of a piece of work in the way that you have to. So, yeah, I’ve sort of ruined movies for myself for the time being. They’re way too tied to all this internal pressure and personal apprehension.
How often do you read fiction? Do you wish you read more?
These days pretty much all my reading is wrapped up in research for my new project and all of it is non-fiction. Like now, I’m currently burrowing my way through the works of R.D. Lang, who I’d previously idiotically dismissed as some hippy crackpot. His basic premise is that normal man is a shriveled, desiccated fragment of what a person can be and that whole domains of sensory experience are completely closed off to us. Yikes. To him, conventional psychiatric practice is little more than a degradation ceremony. Anyway, I dig how far out on a limb he’s willing to perch himself, and I’m struggling to find out how he thinks we can unlock this innate potential, and then more importantly, what he thinks we can do with it. It seems an impossible proposition.
What would be your ideal literary adaptation and why?
Jeez. I have no idea.
How, if at all, has reading informed your filmmaking?
The same way any life experience informs it, I guess.
What are you listening to recently?
Ok, I’ll put my ipod on shuffle and write down the first 5 tracks summoned…
1. Your Auntie Grizelda – The Monkees (Shit. This song stinks. Who told Peter Tork he could sing? My good pal David once said that Peter Tork was like the Zeppo Marx of the Monkees in that he couldn’t sing, couldn’t act, didn’t seem to contribute much creatively, and yet, the whole ship went down once he left the group)
2. Leppo and the Jooves – The Soft Boys (Robyn Hitchcock’s attempt to marry angular Beefheart abrasion with weirdo Barrett pop hooks. I love this stuff)
3. We’ve Only Just Begun – The Carpenters (Hmmm. Not the most exciting tune to comment on, but man, this thing still makes me well-up. Paul Williams wrote it. What an odd career he’s had. Stuntman, actor, singer/songwriter, honorary Muppet. The guy wrote the friggin’ Rainbow Connection for Christ’s sake! I guess most cinephiles know him best as the Phil Spector-type guy from the Phantom of the Paradise. Cool movie. I remember watching ‘The Boy in the Bubble’ on TV when I was really young and hearing the song that Williams wrote for the closing credits and just sinking into the most melancholy state. Same with ‘Rainy Days and Mondays’, which is also one of his. Paul Williams had this unique way of writing songs that could make a 4 year old feel deeply downcast. That’s funny to me)
4. Moods for Moderns – Elvis Costello & the Attractions (Ugh. This has gotta be my least favorite song off this record. But, shit, Costello was on fire back then. A god damned moving target!)
5. Is it a Star? – Hall & Oates (Oh nice. I’ve been listening to this one a lot. One of the best discoveries of the year. It’s off an album called ‘War Babies’, which is pretty much the only focused, artful lp they ever made. The story goes that Todd Rundgren produced it under the dubious golden rule that he and the band be fried to the gills on LSD during each and every recording session. It certainly sounds like it, though in the end, it’s probably more of a Todd record than a Hall & Oats one. Either way, it single-handedly got the band dropped from A&M)
If you could collaborate with one musician on a film, who would it be and why?
I don’t know. Every single time I’ve ever met someone I’ve revered or looked up to creatively, I was either humiliated or self-conscious to the point of paralysis.
What would be the ideal pairing of filmmaker and musician for a concert film?
Hmm. How about an early 70’s Mike Leigh with an early 70’s Randy Newman, both of them reveling in their impish, caustic preoccupations with the grotesque human condition.
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