Reel critic

Author: Jason Gutierrez

As a film student and cinephile I can say without hesitation that, in my opinion, some of best and most interesting films made come from American independent cinema. I can also say without hesitation that American independent cinema is changing, and not for the better.

American independent cinema has a long and rich tradition dating back to the very beginning of film. Filmmakers who worked in opposition to the Edison Trust, the founding of United Artists by Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks, and avant-garde filmmakers of the late 1930s through the 1950s (see Maya Daren and Alexander Hammid's 1943 film "Meshes of the Afternoon") are just a few examples of filmmakers' attempts to break out of the industrial apparatus that had been established by major Hollywood film studios. However, the creation and increased popularization of the Sundance Institute along with other independent film centers and festivals has created an environment wherein most of the "independent" cinema being produced today isn't really independent. Many films have the backing of major studio subsidiaries, cost millions of dollars to produce, and have big name stars attached. This, in itself, is not a problem. What is a problem, however, is the increased homogenization of independent cinema.

I was going to review a film that is running in town this week, "Sunshine Cleaning." It is a film that is advertised as being from the producers of "Little Miss Sunshine," and, although I have no experience of the film beyond watching the trailer, it strikes me as indicative of the larger trend of homogenization of independent cinema. Many pseudo-independent films have been released over the past few years ("Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist," "Smart People," "Little Miss Sunshine" and "Juno" come to mind) all coming across like Frankenstein's monster films: lumbering, unsubtle messes patched together from the vibrant pieces of other independent films. In an effort to escape Hollywood formula, independent cinema has created its own formula (handheld cameras, falsely quirky characters, an easy-to-swallow macabre or overwhelming situation, forced interpersonal tension and a feel-good ending), and the aforementioned films come across as pastiches of both Hollywood and independent filmmaking. This is what passes for American independent cinema.

Several years ago, one of the lost gems of American independent cinema finally got its comeuppance, a theatrical run, and a DVD release to boot. The film was Charles Burnett's "Killer of Sheep." Made over a year's worth of consecutive weekends from 1972 to 1973 for $10,000, "Killer of Sheep" is everything that independent cinema should be. It is a quiet film that is driven by the intensely realistic portrait it paints of a working man in the Watts district of Los Angeles, not plot. In fact, there is no plot to speak of, just a series of vignettes showcasing the life of slaughterhouse worker Stan (played by Henry Gale Sanders) and his family (an unnamed wife and two small children). Stan dreams of bigger and better things, but cannot seem to break free of the monotony of his day to day life. The ensuing ennui affects his relationship with his family, friends and the world around him. Where modern independent film would rush to throw this character into some kind of contrived plotline, Burnett knows well enough to simply observe his character. His focus is on shot composition and realism, not forced quirkiness or stupidly stylized dialogue. In one of the more remarkable scenes I can think of, Burnett simply allows his camera to observe Stan telling one of his friends how the feel of a warm cup of tea reminds him of making love. The confession, and the look of pain in Stan's eyes once his confession is derided by his friend, are simply remarkable.

What makes this film so incredible is to consider the period in which Burnett was making his film. An African-American filmmaker and cast working in the early to mid-1970s might be expected to make a Blaxploitation film like "Shaft" or "Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song," but instead Burnett chose to create an austere portrait of a working class African-American family in a poor section of Los Angeles. Not exactly a way to fame and fortune.

To compare Burnett's work in "Killer of Sheep" to other films or filmmakers would be to make comparisons to the top tier of filmmakers. Strains of Kubrick, De Sica, Ozu, and Cassavettes are all apparent in "Killer of Sheep," but all are seen through the lens of both an African-American filmmaker and an independent filmmaker. Burnett was one of, if not the most important, African-American filmmaker working until Spike Lee came onto the scene in the mid-1980s (and I would argue even after Lee's emergence), and his work with "Killer of Sheep" should ensure him a place among the best independent filmmakers of all time, and his film a place in the canon (if you buy into things like that). With so much mediocre fare passing as independent film, it's worthwhile to look back and see what independent film really looks like, and there are few films better than "Killer of Sheep" to offer us a reminder.