Gave this one a go, after reading how deep and disturbing it was supposed to be. It was disturbing all right, but only in as much as 'Tarnation' shows just how far a monstrous unchecked ego can go in pursuit of gratification. This movie is a monument erected by Jonathan Caouette to Jonathan Caouette; a person he evidently finds endlessly fascinating. The movie was a reasonably good idea and the dizzying assembly of film, video, phone calls etcetera was fine but the fatal flaw with this movie is director/writer/actor/assemblist Caouette's incredible self-obsession. For instance, he diligently tracks and chronicles his own movements over decades but doesn't even mention that he has a brother. Is he younger than Jonathan, older, completely normal or a total weirdo? We don't know because Caouette doesn't tell us. The brother is mentioned only once, and merely in passing, by Renee Caouette; Jonathan's schizophrenic mother. After a life spent compulsively documenting himself Caouette seems to have intended 'Tarnation' to introduce the rest of the world to what he sees as the high tragedy of his life story, and to self-righteously punish those he feels are responsible for it by stirring up a few old family sore points. The family are a colourful if psychologically unfortunate lot to be sure; Grandpa is a simple, easy-going man (to a fault), the grandmother seems almost as nuts as daughter Renee, who of course is completely bananas. He has an interesting story to tell (assuming that it is all true) and a fascinating way to tell it, but the director's self-pity is so palpable and pungent that it virtually destroys the movie. We can neither bond nor empathise with someone who can only be described as the definitive exhibitionist Drama Queen. By the time he gets to blubbing directly to us about his fears and current mental agony, it comes across as crass, self-serving and fake; we know damn well he can cry on cue, he's been doing it since he was eleven. Moreover, Caouette's callous use of his immediate family for this 'cinema of narcissism' is far more shocking than any footage of Renee making up daft songs about pumpkins and laughing hysterically could be. I lasted about fifteen minutes into 'Tarnation' before a growing disgust with this poor little 'tortured artiste' set in, but the final shot is a most telling one; Caouette is filmed lying down close to his sleeping mother, eyes closed and hands folded under his head in the clichéd 'sleeping child' pose. Like all of the others in the movie who are not Jonathan Caouette, his mentally ill mother whom he professes to love has become a mere prop; a piece of scenery to frame the all-important, all-consuming Artist's Performance.
Review of Tarnation
