Hot DAMN! How "Tarnation" May be Ushering in a New Era of the Diary Film

In capturing the real, the artificial means through which an occurrence is recorded must be in constant maturation, as to keep up with the needs of the one casting his butterfly net over reality to enclose it in a labeled mason jar and exhibit it. This is especially true of cinema verite, which can easily be considered the true “art of the real world.” Technological advancements were paramount to the improvement of this genre. Lighter camera allowed for greater fluidity and freedom of motion; sync sound made it so the aural aspects of the film could be consistent with the visual representation. In this tradition, Jonathan Caouette’s “Tarnation” illustrates how current technological advancements in digital video editing software have revitalized the medium of the diary film, or autodocumentary. The implementation of the iMovie software allowed Caouette to manipulate existing photographs and home movie footage and create out of these found (or collected) materials his own personal aesthetic. As Jonathan Caouette proves with “Tarnation”, as long as there are technological innovations, the form of the documentary remains as dynamic as it was in the early days of verite.
“Tarnation”, however, belongs less to documentary than to a very different, entirely uncommercial tradition: it is the type of work that usually emerges from film's experimental fringes, or from video art, and that rarely sees any mainstream exposure.” The technology employed by Caouette (and his decisions of inclusion/manipulation) may categorize his film as “other”—a new hybrid of cinema verite, video art and diary. The development process and critical regard for ““Tarnation”” is also worthy of investigation. The film steps out of the traditional genre construction of documentary through the capabilities of manipulation through the iMovie software. Caouette freely discusses, both in the film and off camera, how his dissociative identity disorder has affected the “organic process” through which the stylistic revolutions of “Tarnation” were developed. This approach, complimented by Caouette’s freedom to inexpensively create such a piece, marks a notable development in documentary film, and provides worthy fodder for discussion: is this the future of the medium, or simply a diversion?
By now, nearly everyone in certain cinematic circles has learned the three cardinal truths about “Tarnation”. 1. It cost $218.32. 2. It was made on iMovie, the free software bundled with Apple computers since the late 1990’s 3. It’s the (slightly solipsistic) story of dissociative identity disorder and a dysfunctional family. This low budget and the familiarity of the materials used lend credence to Jonathan Caouette’s unconscious agreement with the viewer that what he presents should be accepted as absolute truth. Beyond this, the family photographs, shaky hand held home movies and deeply familiar interactions with his subjects create the notion that this film is more than just Caouette’s reality, it is “our truth” as well. Nostalgia is a key factor is establishing something as true and universal. In “Tarnation”, these truths are delivered via clips from Zoom, Johnny Cash songs, and traditional nursery rhymes. The accessibility of this common material forges immediate identification with Caouette-- “that use of pop culture references is to hopefully evoke something emotional and familiar within people. And to remind us, and maybe I’m not saying this quite right, of what we are and where we come from, getting back to the familiarity and innocence of childhood.” This is part of Caouette’s mission, to allow all of his viewers to see the film as something in which they could participate and, ultimately, create themselves out of their own personal narrative, no longer fearing the imaginary fences between film maker and common person. As he explains, “I really hope the movie can be an inspiration for would be filmmakers who are maybe intimidated by how much money is takes. You really just need a camera from Best Buy, a firewire, and a Mac. There should be no more excuses” More than simply eliminating financial deterrents, ““Tarnation”” breaks this boundary, explicating the mysteries of editing and achieving emotional affects, which had previously been secrets of the craft. This division is further bridged by virtue of the media it compiles. Super-8 tapes and photo booth strips are at one both particular to an individual and evocative of a collection of personal material that nearly every nostalgic individual amasses. Seeing these images on the screen transforms the idiosyncratic and certainly unique Jonathan Caouette into an everyman, onto which the viewer may transpose his or her own memories. Judging by the emotional response to “Tarnation”, transpose they did. “As to audience response, people would come up to me at Sundance without saying a word and just embrace me tightly. People seem to connect with this movie in an astoundingly real and visceral way.” It is the film’s low-fi appeal that makes it so accessible and thus so beloved, despite the flaws inherent in its low production value. While facts of production are a suitable summary of its exposition, they are severely lacking in describing what drew audiences and critics to hold the film in such regard. “If critics didn’t focus so often on ‘Tarnation’s’ production costs and about Caouette’s lack of experience, they might be more inclined to write about the director’s vision and his astute analysis of sex, gender and sexual orientation in us culture.”
Caouette’s film may be the flagship theatrical release of an iMovie, but one must consider that this is simply another mile marker along the digital pathway into the future of film. Almost a decade before this film’s release, Apple was bundling iMovie in with its standard software package, and Lars von Trier’s Dogme manifesto was legitimizing digital video as a valid medium for serious cinematic endeavors. “Dogme persuaded us- to a degree-- that the visual texture of video should not be seen as an inferior relation of celluloid which in turn fed into the growing excitement of Macintosh customers discovering iMovie.” It is the ubiquity of this software as well as the general acceptance that nearly anyone could edit their life in this way that lends itself to empathy with Jonathan Caouette, as well as skepticism over the performative nature of the piece as a whole. “The iMovie aesthetic might also become a mode of expression for film makers who want a particular way of indicating that something is immediate and real.” Because one is aware of the lack of fabrication of one’s own home movies, the discerning viewer is still less likely to suspect Caouette of anything but outright honesty. While “Tarnation” itself may not be intentionally deceptive, there is a performative aspect, apparent from the outset, that endures through most of the film, until Renee’s Lithium overdose (a tragic reality check) forces Jonathan to face the camera, and his despair, head on. This does not question the veracity of the film, but rather makes a larger comment on the nature of how home movies selectively represent a family history.
The first scene of “Tarnation” sets the stage for the elements of performance that are to continue throughout the film. Her hair askew and eyes wild, Renee LeBlanc (who has not yet been identified as mentally ill) sings for the camera. After a montage of still images, the first interaction viewers have with the other main subject of the film, Jonathan, is via performance as well. However, while Renee mugs for the camera, it is not nearly as overt a performance as Jonathan’s, who transcends gender and age to give a “testimony” as Hillary Chapman Laurel (or Lowell) Lou Garito. It is intense- both in the precociousness of the child who is able to so completely envelop himself in the role, as well as the accuracy with which he can portray this disturbed, battered woman. In his interview with Chris Wilcha, Jonathan Caouette makes note of the fact that for this performance, he was essentially channeling his mother. Regardless, the audience does not necessarily correlate the incredible acting abilities of this child with the possibility that as a filmmaker, he may be able to similarly shape the reality of his life that the viewers are accepting as truth. “The iMovie aesthetic might also become a mode of expression for film makers who want a particular way of indicating that something is immediate and real.” This is a conundrum- are all home movies in some way manipulations of the truth with camera as catalyst, or should one hold Jonathan Caouette suspect for manufacturing a portrayal of his early family life? The camera is, in many undocumented domestic cases, an unwelcome guest at an event, and its intrusion may unconsciously affect behaviors, rather than preserve an unadulterated view of family life. Caouette’s home movies differ, of course, because how many families interrogate their patriarchs on child abuse or witness claims that one’s mother is a transvestite with four nipples, as he has? Luckily, most audiences do not have such trust issues with the film. They can willingly accept it as collected footage and allow it to influence them emotionally without paying too much mind to the fact that the filmmaker/subject hardly ever appears onscreen unveiled, as himself. Granted, it would be exceptionally hard to falsify twenty years of personal artifacts, which certainly lends credence to Caouette’s presentation of the film as absolute truth. The capacity to ignore Caouette as an actor and place full trust in the honesty of his displayed footage is derived from the expectations that come from personal experience with home movies; within the majority of which a performative aspect is either unconscious or non-existent.
Even when discussing immensely personal issues, the footage that Jonathan Caouette has elected to use as the filmmaker always has at least one element of removal from the audience. When he talks about his adolescent understanding of his homosexuality, footage of Jonathan bouncing on a trampoline and otherwise engaging in carefree, childlike behaviors juxtapose his spoken admission that being a young gay man is difficult with almost stereotypical images of youthful delight. This pairing draws the ultimate conclusion that being gay was simply one element of Caouette’s development, and not a particularly stressful one. To illustrate his maturation as an artist, Caouette creates a split screen with footage from his first films, clips from popular television shows such as Zoom, and images of himself lip-syncing the soundtrack and staring dreamily at a television, which bathes him in an ethereal blue glow. There is no artist statement; there is no direct address. There are simply these disparate images woven together to create the impression of Jonathan Caouette as an artist, without a true understanding of who this Jonathan Caouette character is when the cameras are off. This is a privilege granted uniquely to one making an auto-documentary, not only to recreate the events of one’s life, but to also reinvent oneself (through “the best performances” and editorial control) into the portrait of whom one wants to be. Up until a major catastrophic event (Renee’s overdose) Jonathan Caouette can be understood more as a film subject who just so happens to be the filmmaker than an honest, flawed individual to be looked at objectively. When he does “reveal himself” at the end, finally we can ask the question of who the real Caouette is- the narrative subject or the documentarian?
After Renee has overdosed on Lithium and Jonathan must travel down to Texas to care for her, in this most dire of situations, he strips himself of all of the cinematic veils that had previously been his protection. Emotionally naked in front of the camera, sans visual effects, editing tricks or b roll footage to distract the audience, Jonathan Caouette, for the first time in this film, has ceased performing to make way for unadulterated honesty. This act is a synecdoche for Caouette’s experiences upon editing and releasing the film: “It was a way of showing myself and showing other people how I’ve come full circle with everything. It was a way of making peace with things. I think, and realizing that I didn’t need the camera on myself or my family an longer as a way of disassociating or having a sense of control, as I had been doing for the past 20 years.” This difference between video camcorder as observer of unaware subjects, and as catalyst for performance is something to consider once family videos enter the mainstream and audiences are faced with the question of what is truth and what fabrication. “Tarnation” serves as an excellent intermediary for this transition. As Executive Producer Gus Van Sant notes, “They are no longer home movies, but movies of the home.”
To consider “Tarnation” simply a documentary is an oversight bordering on injustice. Part of what sets the film apart is its unique visual aesthetic and editing technique, which Caouette considers an organic process manifested through his depersonalization disorder, but other viewers might consider as a generational influence based on music videos and video art. “Caouette’s directorial vision is not exactly unique—you can see its roots in music videos, television commercials and the multiplicity of images common in much pop art—but it is distinctly not Hollywood or even traditional independent film. Because he is using a collage technique that relies on evoking strong emotional responses through a juxtaposition of immediately recognizable images and sounds… we are pulled into the film’s emotional subtext without much room to resist or even process this material.” Caouette’s creative influence on the manipulation of his family footage into this bright colored, highly contrasted eye candy does more than simply provide for a prettier picture than transferred home video footage. This technique blurs the line between video art and home video, which is rarely the case in documentary films. Yet “Tarnation” is arguably a horse of a different color than the majority of documentaries, through both its exposition and emotional content. Subject matter as intense as that manifested in “Tarnation” is not easy to swallow by a mass audience aware that the maker of the film they are currently digesting has personally suffered through all he has included in the work. But considering the dueling perspectives of “Tarnation” as art vs. therapy, it proves to be an apt choice. In either case, it may be perceived that the film is being shortchanged. "I manipulated almost every single frame that you see in the film with the brightness and contrast button," he explains. 'I went along with the music, but I also let the brightness and contrast evoke an atmosphere, a feeling of what it's like to see things with depersonalization disorder, which is a bit trippy.” In this interview, Caouette claims that the colors and contrast (the more artistic aspects of the film that incite its comparisons to video art) are relevant in that they are visual representations of his disorder. In a way, this combines the film as therapy viewpoint with the film as art stand. Neither of these is particularly comfortable ground for the viewer, as through either lens responsibility shifts. If one is to watch the film as if it is a therapy session for Jonathan Caouette (as he has mentioned that working through the film has allowed him renewed perspective on the events of his life) the viewer is faced with the burden of this man’s unfortunate circumstances, and is made implicit in helping to sort through these issues. However, this approach disregards the intentional stylistic decisions made by Caouette to adopt an aesthetic similar to the experience of his dissociative episodes- fundamentally, to have his art as a true manifestation of his perspective. If one looks at “Tarnation” as cinema therapy, one does not have to come to terms with theoretical questions or solidify a personal definition of art, in which the film may or may not fit. By nature of the medium, “Tarnation” as therapy film puts Caouette’s pain into a larger cultural context that the viewer may or may not choose to entertain. Yet if the viewer chooses not to engage with the film on a confessional, therapeutic level (whether this is a conscious decision with an understanding of one’s own emotional reserves or self preservation- not desiring to perhaps find familiarity in Caouette’s family situation) to view it simply as an artistic endeavor is to pacify the worry within that this sort of horrific occurrence does, in fact, exist. It is easier to handle “Tarnation” if it is not seen as an unflinching look at a brutal life. By expressing these unsettling happenings via visuals (it is here that Caouette’s decision to use title cards rather than voice over narration adds another element of removal) the reality of the film is easier to swallow, as it is a work of art and not a pressing human truth. What is important to recognize, so that the film may be appropriately considered both art and therapy at once, is that Caouette is exorcising his demons through the creative process, and that these veilings are not mutually exclusive. Taking a look at earlier diary films, such as Jonas Mekas’ “Lost Lost Lost” and Ed Pincus’ “Diary,” the collected footage is far more straightforward (although Mekas’ aesthetic of silent 16 mm is more similar to Caouette’s) and would never be compared to video art. However, Caouette is a product of his generation, and infuses his personal narrative with the popular culture that is inexorably a part of his experience; the empathy of the audience comes with the shared memory of these experiences (and herein lies the uncomfortable identification with the unstable subject.)
After making its mark on the festival circuit, after the voicing of praise from all sides for Caouette’s thrifty, inventive feature that exemplified the potential of new technology, there remains the murmur of an unanswered question amongst the cinema set. Does “Tarnation” exemplify the future of documentary filmmaking, or is it a deviation? “Tarnation” serves as an excellent example of how the ease with which iMovie can be learned, along with the relatively inexpensive video camera options currently available, makes filmmaking a far more accessible domain for the masses. “For several years, filmmakers and the industry they support have been hyping a new era of moviemaking heralded by the advent of digital video cameras and high end desk top editing systems…. The technology itself will foster a more direct, personal approach to filmmaking.” Yet iMovie and a camcorder were merely tools for Caouette to implement his vision, which, had he the funds, he could have done on an Avid system with an HDV camera, much to the same effect in terms of technicalities. Such a line of thinking seems to imply that works as personal as “Tarnation” are born out of small budgets, and intimacy and full personal disclosure could not have possibly been attained when the filmmaker’s equipment was more sophisticated and expenses were higher. This is a difficult point to consider. Clearly, the film's DIY aesthetic, that which resonates so deeply with audiences as “the truth” could not have been replicated without Jonathan Caouette’s photo booth stills, answering machine tapes, and super-8 reels. “’Tarnation’ suggests a new era for movies, moviemakers and audiences - a revolution in audio-visual confessional.” This begs the question- could Caouette have confessed any other way? With this consideration, “Tarnation” contributes to the auto-documentary movement via content, not simply by virtue of its medium, and such content, one may argue, is increasingly timely. In recent years, the subject matter of much popular media has centered on the self of the author, oftentimes a self in conflict with situation. These writers did not have the filmmaker’s concern of pricey equipment or studio support: their creation was literally supported by brainpower. “Caouette's need to lay himself bare also has much in common with a current true-confessions strain in commercial American writing, represented by such diverse writers as Elizabeth Wurtzel, Dave Eggers, Augusten Burroughs and psychic damage's self-help pin-up boy Dave Pelzer. “ It should be noted at this point that many of these individuals are at the helm of the McSweeney’s publishing team, which garners great regard throughout the literary community. These contemporary writers, many of whom gained critical attention for their captivating portrayals of immensely personal material, prove Caouette is not alone in this treatment of his art. Nor is it an entirely original direction. As AO Scott notes, this confessional, diary approach also appeared in American poetry of the 1950’s.
Combining this evidence, it is easier to support “Tarnation” as an exemplary moment in the transition from objective to subjective documentary. First the beat poets, then the McSweeney’s writers, and now, like most adaptations—the self as preferred subject has moved to the screen. “As the tide of confessionalism and personal revelation that has come to dominate literary culture moves into the visual realm, we may be entering the age of the autodoc, or moicumentary.” Jonathan Caouette cannot be credited for inventing the diary film, nor for being the first to pen such a confessional, penetrating memoir. However, it can be recognized that with the public appreciation of “Tarnation”, it could perpetuate the trend toward immensely personal narratives in entertainment. As Caouette says in his interview with Chris Wilcha, “the world is ready for a new kind of cinema and I would love to see something with a more hyper-real element coming back.” This sort of cinema may be new, but the idea itself has been a lasting trend. Following Caouette’s example, however, the film memoir may drastically gain popularity as more and more individuals realize they possess the necessary tools to tell their story cinematically. While it may not be the all-encompassing future of documentary, “Tarnation” is certainly more than a singular experiment.
Only time can tell when professional equipment may become publicly accessible, but as Jonathan Caouette has illustrated with “Tarnation”, the backyard auteur has already begun to establish himself as a potential threat to Hollywood’s monopoly on cinema. Caouette’s unique approach to the diary film, pairing video art with art as therapy and creating a pop culture/personal narrative, follows a current trend in the other art forms. With his film as an excellent example of what is possible even with a microscopic budget and relatively unsophisticated tools, the natural trajectory of the documentary may be redirected to a far more personal, accessible venue. If this is not a solid example of what it means to document truth and present it as non-fiction cinema, a better one has yet to reach theaters.


(footnotes.sources cited available in hardcopy)