day 15 - Factotum

OK film fans, it's very, very late on a Friday night. Let's not mince words, I've had a couple and I'm feeling punchy at this point. When you're deep in the night, driving solo, with only your conscious as your companion, things can get dark. And into the dark, good night we shall not go, without a fight. But what manner of fight shall we occupy while we are in this fragile form? That is the question for dark and solitary nights such as this. While some cling to their raison d'etre in the quiet of the night, others search furiously for a sliver of whatever it is they need; a body, a mind or a spirit to make themselves whole. From this vantage point we must all make a decision. And that decision can be bold or cowardly; enduring or fleeting.

Factotum is a film based on an author who is a personal favorite of mine, Charles Bukowski. Bukowski was a writer of ordinary means whose poems and prose of the marginalized man transcended the lifestyle he wrote about and eventually, after some 20 years, garnered some fame. Bukowski's writing had three major influences: alcohol, sex and the act of writing itself. He cared naught for the trappings of success, mostly because they were never offered to him, but also because he was a Writer in that glorious vein of existence inhabited by only a few tortured souls. He did not write because it would garner him fame, because it was cool or a way to get into Hollywood. He wrote because he had no other choice. Words were his sustenance and without them he might die. Whatever was happening to him at any given time in his derelict lifestyle; jail, homelessness or the ennui of life on the fringe of society, it never interfered with his desire or ability to write. And for this alone I, and many others, find him a fascinating figure.

As such, Matt Dillion, as Bukowski's alter ego Henry Chinaski, and a little know Norwegian director Bent Hamer (yes, that's his real name) create a faithful, dark and inspirational film based on the short stories of Bukowskli and his life of skid row jobs, women and bars in the seedy sections along 3rd and 6th streets between downtown Los Angeles and La Cienega Blvd. Almost twenty years after the film that introduced me to Bukowski, Barfly, this unlikely duo creates a languid punch of a film that, while not entirely hitting the mark, grazes enough of the meat to make us take notice. There really isn't a traditional storyline to the film, other than following Chinaski through his negligible life. But there are many truths to be revealed. There are no car chases, special effects or Oscar moments.

Rather, we slowly begin to realize the truth of his life and the lives of men like him, where, in the words of Mohandas "Mahatma" Gandhi, "Whatever you do may seem insignificant to you, but it is most important that you do it". Why is not our question to ask, our only real purpose in life is to simply live. There is another Gandhi quote I love that comes to mind when I think of this film, "Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable will." If you cannot be broken by exterior means, then your life is truly yours alone to explore.

As the night deepens, begins to slow and the Scotch leaves me with a soothing buzz, there are two moments from the film I'd like to share. I realize that I haven't really spoken about this film in traditional film reviewer mode, discussing the subtext or its merits as a film in comparison to those of its like. Honestly, this type of film is a mirror and what you get out of it is what's behind your reflection. The author's works either move you deeply, as they have for Matt Dillion who made the film for almost nothing, or they leave you nonplussed. If you fall in the latter category you may want to consider yourself fortunate and count your blessings. But I leave these questions up to you. If the words of the film move you, then I would suggest you immediately find the closest bookstore and pick up some Bukowski poetry.

There are two moments in this film that display Bukowski's gift for haunting prose. The first moment is the closing scene in this film, a monologue lifted from Bukowski's book of the same name, filmed in such a manner that I cannot now conceive of a better context. His ode to the fight is fabulous and reminds us of the extent that some will go through to remain true to themselves once they have chosen a path. The other, also seen in the film, is almost more beautiful when simply spread out on the page in black and white: "Amazing how grimly we hold on to our misery, the energy we burn fueling our anger. Amazing how one moment we can be snarling like a beast, then a few moments later, forgetting what we wanted. Not hours of this, or days or months or years of this, but decades. Lifetimes completely used up, given over to the pettiest rancor and hatred. Finally, there is nothing here for death to take away."

As much as I love Bukowski's poetry, and to a lesser extent his short stories, I can't help but think he was a man trapped, stagnant in his life and beset by a self loathing compulsion to avoid happiness, due in great measures to his lack of it growing up. All of it seems to be captured in this film, the regret, the remorse and the longing for something more, something better, whatever it might be. Some twenty years after first reading Bukowski, I can't help but think of another quote. "It's not who you are that holds you back, it's who you think you are not." I think at some point in his career, after Hollywood came calling and he was the flavor of the month, Bukowski might have thought he was a great writer. I just don't think he ever thought he was a great person.