DVD Reviews

Crumb

Everything is subjective. This notion is most exercised when it comes to the arts. A painting, sculpture, novel, play or film is either loved, hated or somewhere in between. But then there are those pieces of art where there is no middle ground. They’re either loved or hated because of the issues explored. Not only are the pieces themselves subjected to this sentiment, but so is the artist who created them. This sentiment is something I can personally relate to as an artist, as my work is received in both ways. I deal mainly with racial, ethnic and religious issues, however, what adds fuel to the fire is that I also explore races, ethnicities and faiths outside of my own. My last short film dealt with the Hindu/Muslim conflict in contemporary Canadian society, a touchy issue to be sure. The film was embraced by some as bold, edgy and fresh, but condemned by others for its unflattering portrayal of Hindu Canadians and the non-partisan take on the issue. I was either praised for my bravery or condemned as a racist.

Love and hate from the public is inescapable for an artist when dealing with “loaded” issues. Someone who has received his fair share of love and hate is underground comic artist Robert Crumb. Crumb, the creator of the underground comic classics Keep On Truckin’ and Fritz the Cat, has been both praised for his bold, irreverent and challenging comic art (Time Magazine art critic Robert Hughes refers to Crumb as the Brueghel of the second half of the twentieth century) and lambasted as a misogynist, pornographer, racist and misanthrope.

The accolades and vitriol Crumb receives, as well as his tumultuous upbringing and eccentric and rather perverse lifestyle, are explored in Terry Zwigoff’s 1994 documentary Crumb, which arrives on DVD in a new digitally remastered transfer.

While Crumb is an exceptional artist and a complex character, I find both his work and character to be overpoweringly extreme and repulsive for my taste, which made this documentary unwatchable at times. However, the extreme and repulsive images of Crumb’s work were the result of his upbringing. Crumb’s life growing up was very tumultuous, having been subjected to an abusive father and a speed addicted mother, which took its toll on his and his siblings’ psyche. Crumb’s way out of this turmoil was his art. It was through art that Crumb was able to maintain his sanity. Like many artists, art was his therapy.

Unfortunately, Crumb’s brothers, Charles and Max, were unable to exorcize their demons. Charles (who introduced Robert and Max to comics and art and was possibly a better artist) suffered the same fate as Pink Floyd founder Syd Barrett, becoming a reclusive schizophrenic who lived with their mother and rarely left his bedroom. Sadly, he would commit suicide a year after being interviewed for this documentary. Max also lived a reclusively monk like lifestyle in a San Francisco hotel, though he did continue to produce extraordinary oil paintings. Following the release of Crumb, Max’s work began to be noticed and sold for large sums of money worldwide. Despite this newfound fame and fortune, Max still lives like a monk in the same San Francisco hotel. Crumb’s sisters declined to take part in the film. 

While the subject matter may be off-putting to some, Crumb’s best quality is its unlimited accessibility and intimacy with its subject. Terry Zwigoff had been a good friend of Crumb’s for many years which is why Crumb is so relaxed and natural, as if the two men were just hanging out and a camera wasn’t present. Such ease of a subject is rare in documentaries. The commentary by Zwigoff with film critic Roger Ebert adds to the intimacy of the film and reveals facts on the rather cumbersome production, from raising the budget to Zwigoff’s unbearable back pain while shooting. 

Though Crumb is not for all tastes, anyone with an interest in art and artists should watch it to see an example of the various dynamics of art, from positive and negative criticism to art as salvation and redemption.     

Review By Thomas Marchese