{"id":3427,"date":"2013-08-15T06:30:06","date_gmt":"2013-08-15T05:30:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.electricsheepmagazine.co.uk\/reviews\/?p=3427"},"modified":"2014-03-29T08:09:17","modified_gmt":"2014-03-29T07:09:17","slug":"nowhere","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.electricsheepmagazine.co.uk\/reviews\/2013\/08\/15\/nowhere\/","title":{"rendered":"Nowhere"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Nowhere\"<\/a>
Nowhere<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
\n

\nFormat:<\/B> DVD

\nRelease date:<\/B> 26 August 2013

\nDistributor:<\/B> Second Sight

\nDirector:<\/B> Gregg Araki

\nWriter:<\/B> Gregg Araki

\nCast:<\/B> James Duval, Ryan Phillippe, Heather Graham, Rachel True, Heather Graham, Jordan Ladd, Debi Mazar, Tracy Lords

\nUSA 1997

\n78 mins\n<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

Gregg Araki\u2019s Nowhere<\/i>, originally released in 1997, is the last part of his Teen Apocalypse trilogy, after 1993\u2019s Totally Fucked Up<\/i> and 1995\u2019s the Doom Generation<\/i> (though I\u2019d argue that 2010\u2019s Kaboom<\/i><\/a>, which carries on along similar lines, makes it a foursome.)<\/p>\n

Read the Kaboom <\/i>interview with Gregg Araki<\/a><\/A>.<\/div>\n

For those unaware of his oeuvre, Mr Araki\u2019s films generally feature beautiful young things, of mixed acting ability but uniformly flawless complexion, doing drugs, and each other, in various combinations, in heavily stylised settings while spouting doomy dialogue with an emphasis on the alienating effects of a crass, overbearing consumer culture. If this, and the in-your-face nihilism of the titles seem to suggest a grim old time at the multiplex, it should be pointed out that his films are actually, y\u2019know, kinda fun.<\/p>\n

Nowhere<\/i> follows formula, but throws a rubber-suit alien into the mix. We\u2019re in shiny Los Angeles, following the lives of various shiny kids one sunny day. Video-camera wielding romantic Dark (James Duvall) wants Mel (Rachel True) to himself, but she\u2019s having fun with Lucifer (Kathleen Robertson), amongst others\u2026and doesn\u2019t want to settle down. Around them circle other cuties: Sarah Lassez, Christina Applegate, Jordan Ladd, Mena Suvari, Heather Graham, Ryan Phillippe and many others, playing characters of varying functionality and sexual persuasion. In lieu of a plot there is the desire of most of the cast to get to a party: all have adventures, some are sweet, some are horrible, some don\u2019t make it. Much sex is had. There is rape, addiction, messy suicide, nipple abuse and alien abduction, before it all goes horribly wrong at the party, then horribly wronger back at Dark\u2019s place. The end.<\/p>\n

Nowhere <\/i>is a giddy, wonky feat of laugh-out-loud audacity, a plate-spinning act that barely holds together over its lean 78 minutes. Characters are called Handjob and Jujyfruit and Dingbat and say things like \u2018dogs eating people is cool.\u2019 They are distinguished mainly by hairstyle and interior d\u00e9cor. It zips nimbly from airhead to airhead, sustained by the perkiness of the cast, the audio-visual punch, and a horny, laissez faire attitude. From the opening shower-masturbation fantasy onwards, everything seems drenched in a hormonal fug, most of the cast have trouble keeping their hands off each other for any length of time, and when they do get it on their various scenes are spliced together in artful polysexual feats of editing. Everything is affectless and candy coloured and paper thin. Dark witnesses a reptiloid alien disintegrate three valley girls at a bus stop, but is most annoyed that he failed to catch it on tape. He seems stunned when the same thing happens to his fantasy lover Montgomery (Nathan Bexton) later on that evening, but at no point does he try to tell anybody about all this. It\u2019s like Bret Easton Ellis made over by John Waters \u2013 the tone may be numb, addled and apocalyptic, but look! There\u2019s Traci Lords! And Gibby Haynes! And those cool background paintings! And don\u2019t Sonic Youth\/ Suede\/ the Chemical Brothers sound good in this bit?<\/p>\n

The appearances by a money grubbing televangelist (John Ritter) aside (because no post-punk indie movie of the period was ever complete without a sleazy televangelist), it\u2019s remarkable how little Nowhere<\/i> has dated, given how achingly, trying-too-hard-hip this all was sixteen years ago. Perhaps it\u2019s because it comes sealed in its own weird bubble, where, say, the absence of mobile phones and the internet come across as another stylistic decision, but now it seems box fresh and bright. On the commentary, somebody occasionally asks Gregg about the meaning of this or that shot, but he remains tight-lipped about that stuff, allowing the cast more room to obsess over their poreless skin, their clothes, teeth and hair. This seems entirely appropriate, it\u2019s a film as much about youthful flesh, and surfaces and eyeball kicks as it is about the end of the world.<\/p>\n

Mark Stafford<\/B><\/I><\/p>\n

Watch the trailer:<\/B><\/p>\n