Ciao! Manhattan
Film:
B- Picture: B-
Sound: C Extras:
B-
The death
of Edie Sedgwick on November 16, 1971, epitomized the end of an era of excess;
a unique moment in history populated by the drug induced spiritualism of the
tragically hip. As the New York Herald Tribune’s 1965 “Girl of
the Year” and product of the Andy Warhol Factory, Sedgwick, both fabulously
wealthy and unmistakably attractive, achieved the status of cultural icon,
becoming one of Warhol’s most famous stars.
However, her hard living and self-destructive tendencies finally
overcame her at a youthful twenty-eight.
John Palmer and David Weisman’s Ciao!
Manhattan is the final testament of Sedgwick’s life.
Originally
released in 1972, the film is dedicated to Sedgwick, who died three months
after the completion of shooting.
Ostensibly, the film traces the rise and fall of Susan (Edie Sedgwick,
essentially playing herself) as “told” through flashbacks. After a meteoric rise to fame followed by
years of hospitalization, Susan, now living at her mother’s house, takes up
residence in the empty pool, surrounded by photographs of her famous past. She is “cared” for by a hired hippie,
Geoffrey, (Geoffrey Briggs) who steals from the mother (Isabel Jewell, the only
professional actor) until he is replaced by Butch (Wesley Hayes) who becomes
enamored with Susan. The flashbacks,
filmed in black and white, follow not only Susan’s (mis)adventures, but also
the ubiquitous voyeurism of corporate drug lord, Mr. Verdecchio (Jean
Margouleff, also a producer).
The
film’s narrative, hailed as experimental, is more a product of necessity than
artistic vision. All the black and
white footage was filmed in 1967 and 1968 from an incomplete script. Two years later, they finished the film by
reviewing all the old footage and filmed new sequences in color to cobble
together a narrative. The lower
production quality is evident in the dialogue track, where most of the
conversations were dubbed in because the sound of the camera clouded the
dialogue. Its technical shortcomings,
however, make the film a more honest representation of the period.
Despite
the film’s historical importance, the film viewing experience would be complete
if you are accompanied by your perpetually stoned college roommate uttering
profound pearls of perception like “Whoa…Dude, that is sooo deep” and “Down
with the Man.” Most viewers will
understand the film, but few will claim to understand
it, dude. Personally, films that
glorify, or at least romanticize, heavy addiction seem more sad than
satisfying. During the feature length
commentary, the directors follow up on many of the actors, noting how they are
either dead or successful entrepreneurs, an ironic statement given the sadness
and hypocrisy that unfolded past beyond the heydays of the sixties.
Presented
in 1:85 X 1 Anamorphic widescreen, Ciao! Manhattan boasts a good deal of extra
features including lost footage reels (unfortunately, or fortunately, the
soundtrack was lost, but the accompanying commentary is insightful), interviews
with the costume designer, George Plimpton (Sedgwick biographer and well-known
spokesman/personality) and actors and filmmakers. The feature length commentary does provide added insight into the
period and production, recalling the difficulties of shooting at the time. It is interesting to listen to them discuss
how they contrived a narrative from the footage they already shot. This Plexifilm offering has decent picture
quality, whereas the sound is a bit more suspect. However, given the conditions and the quality of the original
print, they did a passable job.
- Ron Von Burg
