Using three family members (and one "in-waiting": a
younger step-mother) filmmaker Oren Siedler has come up with a remarkably candid
study of herself, parts of which will resonate with the inner child that lurks
in us all.
Bruce (her father) "behaves like no one else … he's a
criminal who steals just enough to get by." And five trips to jail. Born in
New York City to parents who'd been swept up by drugs, civil disobedience and
Timothy Leary, Siedler decides to leave her home in Australia and catch up with
the man who, during the Vietnam War dropped out of society, vowing to never pay
taxes again.
As the enjoyable music track—brimming
with fiddle reels, solo banjo and a pulsating Havana soundscape—glues
the personal odyssey together, the inquisitive daughter catches up with her dad far off the
beaten track in southern United States. A particularly fascinating scene shows
the bilingual (English/Spanish) Bruce
unearthing his safety deposit box from the ground where its treasure consists of fake IDs
rather than cash, bank and chequing cards, drivers' licences, proof of insurance—everything
the contemporary scam artist requires to survive.
Seeing all that plastic wealth sends Siedler (now
middle-aged) back to her youth where almost daily, she had to memorize her new
name as either a niece or a friend of Bruce as they plied their cons across the
country.
But even more troublesome is her father's current penchant
for sending Oren nude pictures of his Cuban girl friend. Their extreme
May-December relationship is consummated during his frequent visits—Fatima is
showered with gifts (from short shorts to dildos). The lovers are forced to have
their romps in the bed of a friend—Americans (no matter what their current ID)
are forbidden from registering with locals in the hotels.
Not surprisingly, Fatima is unreceptive to being interviewed
by Oren and makes herself scarce. When Bruce finally tracks her down, he
quietly realizes that his wayward mistress has lied about her whereabouts,
shattering his belief in their fidelity. "Hope springs eternal; perhaps this
time there'll be love," he says unenthusiastically. On the other hand, Oren
virtually smacks her lips with glee with the double satisfaction that her dad is dating an unfaithful gold-digger and she's not the only one who realizes it. There's a sudden feeling that those risqué photos reveal more about Oren than their subject matter.
The other central figure to Oren's journey is her
grandmother, 97-year-old Ruth. In their first meeting, Bruce shows himself to
be a dutiful caring son: diligently cooking, cleaning and gardening. Once
again Oren revels as she gets the near-centenarian to admit "[I'd] like to have
seen him be a success at some position." Yet countless other moms would kill to
have the unconditional (though undeclared) love and support from their sons or
daughters.
Amongst other talents, Oren is a passable violinist
(performing some of the tracks herself) and her father a congenial, if
semi-skilled pianist who takes solace in Beethoven's sonatas. Their initial attempt at a duet is as instructive as it is metaphorical. She counts the beats aloud while stomping her foot—hardly
gentle music-making and a pedagogical faux pas. Stumbling along, Bruce
complains that "I'm listening to you and I can't play it," but at least her superior skills have been caught on tape.
The jaunt to Cuba can't end too soon and Oren races back to
her mother and half-sister (starting life as an Orthodox Jew, Mom switched to
atheism with Bruce, then married a Buddhist) at their mini artists' colony in
Australia where the shackles of "ritual, guilt and sin" have been abandoned and
the atavistic capabilities of aboriginals developed and encouraged.
Once more, Oren enjoys the dissing of Bruce. "He's a
sociopath," says her barely "normal" mother. A few frames later, Oren confesses
to the camera that it "was satisfying talking with Mom, but short-lived. I
became defensive."
Six months later, the threat of cancer drives Oren back to
Bruce, where his stoic philosophy is a refreshing contrast to all of the
internal angst: "I've lived almost sixty-five years, think how many people
don't have that gift," he opines.
In the coda, they revisit Grandma Ruth, plant some more
(this time marijuana) then bury the frail matriarch just as Oren starts to relax and
love her. The final father-daughter musical offering is much improved: she lets
the music lead them both rather than force her companion to sing along to her tune. JWR