LENINGRAD COWBOYS GO AMERICA
A film review by Will FitzHugh
Copyright 1996 Will FitzHugh
Leningrad Cowboys Go America (1989)
Finnish director Aki Kaurismaki (the Finnish Akira Kurosawa?) gives us a deadpan, droll comedy about a Russian band going to America. In the grand tradition of road movies ('Easy Rider', 'Thelma & Louise', 'Wagons West', that sort of thing) that use physical travel as a substitute for any real character development or plot, this one ups the ante and gets rid of all but the most basic characters and dialog as well. That's ok, though, because these guys are masters of every genre of music, dress like freaks (fur coats, unicorn-like hair and really pointy shoes) and let nothing stand in their way as they travel across America to a gig at a Mexican wedding.
There are some great scenes as the band tries out for a New York promoter, fails to impress, and buys a huge Caddy (from Jim Jarmusch, no less) to drive across country. Did I mention that they've carted their dead bass player all the way from Finland, packed in ice? This comes in handy as their domineering manager uses the casket (tied to the top of the car) to keep his supply of Budweiser cold. He forces the band to subsist on crumbs while he sucks down the brews. They get a few gigs in middle America, with varying results, and in a stirring scene, meet a long-lost cousin working at a gas station. By this time they've revolted against their manager and the cousin takes over as singer. They experience an emotional rebirth and their final gig at the wedding is a rousing success.
'Leningrad Cowboys' raised a few questions for me. Is this a real band? And where can I get a t-shirt? I guess they are; they played at some MTV thing a couple of years back. Is this some kind of joke? Well of course it is, but like the best jokes (Butthole Surfers, Flann O'Brien's 'At Swim-To-Birds') they never acknowledge that it's anything but reality. I've noticed that some people have a hard time dealing with this kind of humor, probably because part of the joke's on the audience. These are the same kind of people who made Stephen Spielberg a millionaire and think Jim Carrey is the next Jerry Lewis (whatever the fuck that means). These people can play the Malcolm MacDowell character in my own personal 'Clockwork Orange', forced to watch this movie while tied down and having their eyelids pulled back painfully by little wire things fashioned out of the paper clips in my desk drawer. In fact, I've been having happy recurring daydreams about it.
Anyway, I recommend it.
Will FitzHugh
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