TARNATION (2003), dir. Jonathan Caouette

F for F***ed-Up? It’s All True

Caouette takes an original approach to the autobiographical documentary, mostly eschewing hearsay and dramatic re-enactment for a more avant-garde, rock video aesthetic. Utilizing home video footage, some of which dates back to when the subject was barely walking age, he assembles an extremely haunting and stylized pastiche of childhood traumas and adolescent angst. Caouette took to the camera at a very young age, his nascent obsession with capturing images on film serving as his primary means of dealing with years of institutional abuse. But as we watch him grow up before our very eyes, and experience his trials and tribulations, which include sexual experimentation, frequent rages, time in a mental hospital, and a mind-altering experiment involving marijuana dipped in formaldehyde, it also becomes apparent that Jonathan has the soul of an artist, and no shortage of talent wielding his trusty Super 8.

At various points, “Tarnation” stares down the director/subject’s Houston-based family, particularly his grandparents, whose unwavering belief in their normalcy blinds them to how irrevocably screwed-up they actually are. They could be brain-damaged; Caouette himself doesn’t seem to know for sure. Meanwhile, these chapters of unflinching realism are offset by dreamlike sister passages, as if the great David Lynch, whose work Caouette clearly was a fan of (Indeed, the funniest montage in the film documents Jonathan’s successful high school musical production of the 1986 classic, “Blue Velvet”), actually dropped in to personally direct his late night TV-viewing hours.

During these somnambulant interludes, which feature close-ups of television screen blizzards, ominous droning barely perceptible beneath the soundtrack, and the bright and shiny juxtaposed with murky darkness, the tone vacillates between calming fantasy and tweaker’s nightmare. Like any dream, however, the sleeper’s subconscious eventually finds its way into the fabric. If “Tarnation” represents a map of the director’s subconscious, what preoccupies him most is his mother, Renee. Growing up, he never got to know the “real” her, the Renee LeBlanc before the depression, before the divorce from Jonathan’s father, before those aforementioned grandparents, who were about as ignorant as they were morally self-righteous, had shock treatments administered to her, destroying her personality. The lynchpin of the movie is his enduring relationship with her, rife with wonder and frustration, which represents the impossible-to-sever umbilical connection that exists between all mothers and their children.

Renee’s dilapidated, mentally gone existence acts as a mirror to Jonathan, reflecting a future he can envision for himself. Turning out the same world-worn way doesn’t seem all that far-fetched, considering how their respective pasts are already very similar (physical and emotional abuse, drugs, burgeoning career based on physical appearances). During a “Big Brother,” reality TV-style confession that serves as the denouement of the film, Jonathan admits his fears of ending up like Renee. It’s just that, when she was his age, she seemed a lot better than she does now. But looking at things rationally, a similar kind of fate seems highly unlikely for Caouette. If his completed autobiography proves anything, it is his willingness to confront the past, to try and sublimate the pain and overcome the trauma. The mere fact that he attempts this, unlike his mother, who avoids talking about the worst times to the very end, confirms how different they really are. Yes, she is his mother; yes, like her, Jonathan Caouette may consider himself tarnished. But in truth, no one shines brighter than he, and this movie is strong evidence of that.

Overall rating: **** (out of ****)