In this golden age of home viewing, the Criterion Collection still provides some of the best editions of the best movies ever released, usually with a rich selection of extras and often including audio commentaries (a feature they pioneered, and perhaps the greatest gift ever to film students and cinephiles alike). This column features one Criterion release per week, based entirely on where my interests lead me.
Movies can make get you to root for people you’d prefer not want to meet in real life, let alone invite to your home. Call it pizza rat syndrome, human edition. Male protagonists of this ilk are a dime a dozen—grifters, abusers, and outright criminals of all types are cinematic staples—but Susan Seidelman did something bold by creating a movie centered on a blatantly parasitic female character who nevertheless gets you on her side.
I suspect it’s a combination of naturally identifying with whomever the camera spends the most time with, plus succumbing to the eternal lure of effortless cool. After all, who wouldn’t like to live in New York City without money, do whatever comes into your mind while knowing you’ll get away with it, and be cute as a button all the while in an indy punk sort of way?
Cute does go a long way and Wren (Susan Berman) uses it to get what she wants, usually from men, and it works often enough that she keeps playing that card. Originally from the Jersey suburbs, she fled across the Hudson in search of the punk scene, supporting herself not very well with a part-time job in a copy and stretching her money by not paying the rent. When the inevitable lockout occurs, she visits her sister and family in New Jersey, who are living the kind of life she ran away from. Too bad they’ve seen her act too many times already so she leaves without the “loan” she sought.
Wren is something of a precursor to people today aiming to make it big as social media influencers. In an era before smartphones and TikTok and such, wannabees had to attract attention by analog means, which explains why, in an early scene, we see Wren posting photocopied posters of herself around the city. What’s her talent? No idea: maybe she thinks she can become a player just by looking cool, or maybe she’s aiming at being famous for being famous. As some people today get rich off their social media brands, the analog version of putting yourself out there worked for some, including Keith Haring (who got his start drawing on blank ad panels in the NYC subway) and Jean-Michel Basquiat (who painted on walls before he painted on canvases). Also true in both time periods: aspirants were many while winners were few.
Whether they made it or not, analog creators had to do what they did in the real world, so they had real adventures but also experienced real dangers in a world where wannabees are a dime a dozen and plenty of people willing to take advantage of them. Wren has her share of both, many of them through interactions with this film’s primary male characters, the impossibly naïve Paul (Brad Rinn), who lives in a van parked in a vacant lot near the West Side Highway, and the more hard-edged Eric (punk singer Richard Hell), who has a real apartment and at least something of a life.
Most crew members made their debuts in Smithereens, among them Seidelman as director, co-screenwriter, and producer, Ron Nyswaner and Peter Askinas as co-screenwriters, and Chirine El Khadem as director of photography. So did many of the actors, including Chris Noth (Mr. Big on Sex and the City, among other things), who made his acting debut in a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it role as a male sex worker in drag. The film itself also made a kind of debut: it was the first American indy film to compete for the Palme d’Or and launched many careers, including that of Seidelman. Three years later, she directed Desperately Seeking Susan, Madonna’s feature film debut, so you could say she had an eye for talent.
If you watch this film with the attitude of Wren’s family, you won’t enjoy it. Same if you dismiss her as one of the bridge and tunnel crowd who believe sophistication is acquired by virtue of location (although that description is not entirely wrong). However, if you want the vicarious experience of 1980s New York underground culture with much of the bad stuff omitted, you’ll love Smithereens. Just remember: in the real 1980s, rent may have been cheap, but the city was broke, crack was everywhere, and the murder rate was more than 3x what it is today.
If you allow yourself to do so, it’s easy to get caught up in Smithereens’ relentless pace and propulsive soundtrack (mostly by The Feelies, but also featuring The Nitecaps, The Raybeats, and Richard Hell and the Voidoids, with a sound cameo by the eponymous band). Berman’s strong performance carries it through some questionable narrative beats and weaker performance by some other cast members. Best of all, location shooting captured views of the real Manhattan of the early 1980s and using 16mm film added to the film’s punk aesthetic (but makes it impossible to find high-def images from the film, which explains the use of a publicity still for this column). Many of the locations featured are in the East Village and Midtown (recognizable landmarks include the Peppermint lounge, the Orpheum, and Café Orlin) and it’s a pleasure to recall the city’s grittier days before those neighborhoods got gentrified. | Sarah Boslaugh
Spine #: 941.
Technical details: 93 min.; color; screen ratio 1.66:1; English.
Edition reviewed: DVD (1 disc).
Extras: 2004 audio commentary by Seidelman; 2018 interview with Seidelman and Berman; two short films by Seidelman from her years at NYU film school, introduced by the director: “And You Act Like One Too” (1976, 25 min.) and “Yours Truly, Andrea G. Stern” (1979, 38 min.); illustrated booklet with an essay by critic Rebecca Bengal.
Fun Fact: Many of Berman’s costumes, including the sunglasses she steals early in the film, came from Patricia Field’s shop in the East Village. Fields also designed costumes for, among other things, Sex and the City (1998-2004), The Devil Wears Prada (2006), and Ugly Betty (2006-2010). Another fun fact about Field: she was a lesbian who worked with her partner Rebecca Weinberg on Sex and the City.
Parting Thought: Seidelman told Susan Berman to watch Federico Fellini’s Nights of Cabiria (1957) as preparation for the role of Wren. Does knowing that change your interpretation of how Wren changes over the course of the film (it does mine)?
