Popcorn, crying, sock puppets, and a miniscule stabbing… Welcome to Frownland.
The title frames the eerie world of this 2007 film, written and directed by UW Madison alum Ronald Brownstein. It follows Keith Sontag (Dore Mann), the most awkward man you can imagine, and painfully documents his failed interactions with the other outcasts around him. The screening at the Wisconsin Film Festival was introduced by the cautionary words “this is not the feel-good movie of the year.” While that was an understatement, everyone deserves a warning of some sort.
Indeed, you need to be well aware of the discomfort that this film confronts in all of its 16mm glory. It is a grainy sort of film that follows people at the margins of social interactions and examines life as it is without glamorization (or, perhaps life at its most exhausting and hopeless). This bareness is manifested in the lack of soundtrack. The only music is that of the lackluster musical stylings of Keith’s roommate Charles (Paul Grimstad), or sporadic, creepy and futuristic tones reminiscent of A Clockwork Orange.
The sparseness of sound is exacerbated by the small amount of comprehendible dialogue. When Keith is not nonsensically sputtering, the viewer is confronted with absurdist ruminations that leave nothing resolved. Secondary characters only enhance the tension felt between what normal human interaction is supposed to be, and what it actually is in Frownland. Everyone is vaguely aware of each other’s needs, but cannot communicate well enough to address them. You can’t help but share Keith’s frustration as he searches for the words to express himself; words he can never quite grasp.
No shot is too close or too intrusive. The camera intimately exposes those embarrassing human processes that are usually hidden. Brownson’s fixation within the personal space of all of his characters will make you feel as cramped as Keith’s apartment.
You never quite know what is going on inside Keith’s infantilized mind, but you can imagine the turmoil because of the proximity to his pained face. He is continuously and obsessively touching his mouth and attempting to speak with little success. He is right in your face, and he will make you anxious.
To combat the antsy feeling this film inspires (in part by Mann’s full frontal nudity), there are some moments to inspire laughter. Go ahead and giggle at Keith’s roommate’s philosophical, yet insensitive speaking style, or at the sad jokes made by Keith himself. Laugh, if you can. This film embodies post-modernism as it applies to social norms, and is somehow stripped of its divinely humorous and achingly intellectual connotations.
As the film spirals further into its own desperate landscape, the background elements of comfort disappear. Sunshine and recognizable direction vanish in lieu of darkness and freakish nightlife. You will find yourself losing grip with Keith, whether or not you want to. You speed walk with him, feverishly trying to light a bent Marlboro Red, and desperately lashing out just for the sake of human contact.
Despite the incredible amounts of discomfort, here is obvious merit to making it through this film. Apparently the folks at SXSW thought so, as they gave it the Special Jury Prize in 2007. Maybe they had “Best Disquieting Film” on their minds.