Documentaries can offer more than just their subject matter; they have the power to thrust a personal story of a well known or abstract figure into a greater, historical, microcosmic portrait, or to turn a historical triumph or tragedy into something we can experience almost personally. This film seems to accomplish both of these feats. I've respected and enjoyed Phil Ochs' music and message, in the sense that the melodies are pleasant and heartfelt, and the message is in turns earnest and bitingly sardonic. To a person growing up with punk music like myself, this seems like a logical precursor. But this film takes the story of another widely forgotten musician and gives us a portrait of a wildly ambitious human being, a flawed hero, and the explosive world around him. As a rampant idealist myself, the story is both encouraging and all too heart-breaking. It hits all of us would-be activists and creative, motivated, inspired, loving seekers of change, right in the heart. In the end of this narrative, the world didn't bend for this one ego, after all; and it may have helped crush the very soul of this talented "egomaniac" (as a friend calls him).
And yet, he fought anyways. Ochs straddled a thin line between impassioned activist and self-indulgent artist, and in the ensuing battle, between integrity and ambition, between idealism and caution, he lost his family, his voice, and his own sanity. Yet there's a fascinating counterpoint that one can draw from this film: we can clearly see which side of this battle that artists like Dylan fell on--the personal, apolitical side which made broad illusions but focused on staying more accessible (though less and less vital) than Ochs and his blatant, confrontational intelligence. But I think that this is the true yet sadly forgotten and maligned legacy of the 1960s; not the crappy, burned-out stoner rock, psychedelic escapism and superficial "groovy love" garbage, but the real radicals trying to affect change, and their various approaches, successes and failures. And this is where the film serves as an important historical/cultural record. We all know about Civil Rights, the War, and the anti-war movement, as separate events. This film ties them all together with one singular character, who is himself, successor to another forgotten tradition; the activist/troubadour. But he is never really a hero, but a human being, and this is another strength of the film: it doesn't seek to merge all of the "Phil Ochs" narratives into a consolidated image, but each friend, family member or acquaintance is allowed to recall their impressions of Ochs and the folk scene, stories which are often, at times, very much at odds. Was his suicide a natural progression from his alcoholism? Was it a family history of mental illness? Or did his "defeat" at being no more than an ineffective pop artist, in the shadow of real heroes such as Guevara and his executed Chilean folk hero, crush him? We get different impressions from different stories, and the film doesn't try to answer all of the questions. It gives you music, words, live performances, juxtaposed with the scenes of the real life change, the volatile condition of the world, as it happened around an artist. And it was this change that began long before the self-congratulatory hippies spent their summers of self-love seeking chemical bliss. The modern parallels are frightening and, quite frankly depressing, as it looks as if my generation will never produce anyone so high-profile and well known, with that much intelligence, courage and heart. And if they do exist, the media industries certainly won't bother giving them a voice. We now live in a world that seems to sit back, and look cool and detached as the same injustices take shape all around us. And if that doesn't make this film more relevant than ever, I'm not sure what could.
And yet, he fought anyways. Ochs straddled a thin line between impassioned activist and self-indulgent artist, and in the ensuing battle, between integrity and ambition, between idealism and caution, he lost his family, his voice, and his own sanity. Yet there's a fascinating counterpoint that one can draw from this film: we can clearly see which side of this battle that artists like Dylan fell on--the personal, apolitical side which made broad illusions but focused on staying more accessible (though less and less vital) than Ochs and his blatant, confrontational intelligence. But I think that this is the true yet sadly forgotten and maligned legacy of the 1960s; not the crappy, burned-out stoner rock, psychedelic escapism and superficial "groovy love" garbage, but the real radicals trying to affect change, and their various approaches, successes and failures. And this is where the film serves as an important historical/cultural record. We all know about Civil Rights, the War, and the anti-war movement, as separate events. This film ties them all together with one singular character, who is himself, successor to another forgotten tradition; the activist/troubadour. But he is never really a hero, but a human being, and this is another strength of the film: it doesn't seek to merge all of the "Phil Ochs" narratives into a consolidated image, but each friend, family member or acquaintance is allowed to recall their impressions of Ochs and the folk scene, stories which are often, at times, very much at odds. Was his suicide a natural progression from his alcoholism? Was it a family history of mental illness? Or did his "defeat" at being no more than an ineffective pop artist, in the shadow of real heroes such as Guevara and his executed Chilean folk hero, crush him? We get different impressions from different stories, and the film doesn't try to answer all of the questions. It gives you music, words, live performances, juxtaposed with the scenes of the real life change, the volatile condition of the world, as it happened around an artist. And it was this change that began long before the self-congratulatory hippies spent their summers of self-love seeking chemical bliss. The modern parallels are frightening and, quite frankly depressing, as it looks as if my generation will never produce anyone so high-profile and well known, with that much intelligence, courage and heart. And if they do exist, the media industries certainly won't bother giving them a voice. We now live in a world that seems to sit back, and look cool and detached as the same injustices take shape all around us. And if that doesn't make this film more relevant than ever, I'm not sure what could.