Smithereens

Though director Susan Sideman went on to make slicker, better-known films like the Madonna-starring "Desperately Seeking Susan," there's arguably a thematic mission statement of sorts presented in her inaugural feature, "Smithereens," an '80s indie that glories in a now-vanished funky, grotty New York City.

The movie, which hails from 1982, is steeped in the cultural flavors (one might say miasma) of the late '70s and early '80s. The styles are imaginative and fashion-forward, while the people wearing them are emotionally and mentally ramshackle. Casual sex is in the air along with more authentic forms of vice; the film opens with an act of petty theft and circles around two very different, but equally unsatisfactory, relationships. Wild child Wren (Susan Berman) is broke and behind on her rent, but neither money nor her miserable day job mean that much to her; she's too busy chasing a mirage of fame, creating crude posters that showcase her own face and pasting them up all over town.

The posters draw zero notice, but Wren herself catches the eye of a recent arrival, Paul (Brad Rijn), who has just come to New York City from Montana and is now living in his van while he pursues his big break. He also pursues Wren; his charm is genuine, but his technique is definitely broad, unstudied, and rustic. More immediately compelling is musician Eric (real-life Voidoids frontman Richard Hell), whose self-absorbtion and thirst for fame rival those of Wren herself. In his case, though, there's an aura of glamor that's rooted in some level of accomplishment; Eric's band, Smithereens, has had some fleeting success. Now he's hustling to make something more of his career on a solo basis. He's not gaining any real traction, but that might not matter; as long as he stays in the tumult of the creative scene, he's nourished by it. Wren circles him like a moth dancing with a candle flame, and Eric eventually responds to her - though in fits and starts.

It's a classic dilemma: Wren anchors herself to Paul but makes no secret of her pursuit of Eric. Will the one remain patient with her until she sorts herself out? Will the other finally spark to her and stay sparked? Can three such careening souls establish stable orbits, or are their paths too distinctly separate and their momentum too great for anything more than a passing acquaintance? Just take a second look at the mise-en-scene; the story, like these characters, can hardly survive any lessening of speed or chaos.

Still, what a jolt of anxious, high-octane energy. The characters are unfocused, but Seidelman is not. She's out to capture and place, a time, and a certain sort of mindset on film, and she succeeds. This Blu-ray edition restores and preserves the film in 2K resolution, and offers Seidelman herself, both in a 2004 audio commentary and in a wide-ranging new interview that's woven into a second new interview with star Susan Berman. (Both still crackle, though more with insight and experience than jittery youthful restlessness.) Also included are two early Sideman short films, made while she was at NYU film school: "And You Act Like One Too," from 1976, tracks a dissatisfied housewife's growing awareness, while "Yours Truly, Andrea G. Stern," from 1979, takes a look at divorce from a young girl's perspective.

Smithereens"
Blu-ray
$31.96
https://www.criterion.com/films/29044-smithereens