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FILM FEATURES PAGE. GO TO PAGE 2 OF OUR SPECIAL FILM FEATURES PAGE San Francisco A conversation with Anthony Stern By David King Like The Committee, the film San Francisco has an almost legendary status in the Pink Floyd community: nearly all serious fans have heard of it, and know that it consists of events in a San Franciscan day set to "Interstellar Overdrive," but no one seems to have seen it. Many doubt the film even exists. Intrigued by this state of affairs, I set about trying to track the film down. I knew that San Francisco was directed by Anthony Stern, Peter Whitehead's ex-soundman, so my first step was to do an Alta Vista Web search on the text "Anthony Stern". Sure enough, this revealed that the film was shown at a Danish film festival as recently as 1995. But apart from this, I could find nothing. The only solution seemed to be to email Peter Whitehead, whose email address I had obtained from the Web service www.whowhere.com. Fortunately, Peter Whitehead was able to supply me with the work phone number of Anthony Stern. After a few attempts, I was talking with the man himself. Anthony Stern is a bubbly chap, with a voice rather like that of Charles Hawtrey from the British "Carry On" films. He was soon telling me the entire background of the film. For a start, he went to school with David Gilmour and was friends with him and, to a lesser extent, Roger Waters. This means that he is roughly the same age as the members of Pink Floyd. He explained that the film's musical soundtrack was recorded in Syd Barrett's garage; and he expressed satisfaction with the "raw" sound of the music, which he felt mirrored perfectly many of the images in the film. This opinion of the music is not shared by the members of Pink Floyd, incidentally; much of their earlier work now embarrasses them. It is unlikely that they will, for example, ever grant permission for a video of San Francisco to be produced or released. Nevertheless, San Francisco, produced by Judex films, won a Silver Boomerang award at the 1969 Melbourne film festival. I was able to see San Francisco not long ago. Initially, its frenetic barrage of color and image was immensely impressive. After a while, though, the film's lack of any kind of obvious structure makes the effect rather boring. We see all sorts of things apparently common in San Francisco: naked people, supermarkets, squirrels, an unnamed rock group, a harbor, and--inevitably--the Golden Gate Bridge. Occasionally the pace of the film slows; for example, there's a shot of a warship, incongruously recalling to me the opening of McHale's Navy. Overall, though, the film is worth 15 minutes of your lifetime--but don't see it if you're an epileptic: the strobe images could easily have a deleterious effect. Stern still has great enthusiasm for the film, even though he is no longer directly involved in cinema. He is, in fact, now a glassblower: the head of Anthony Stern Glass in Havelock Terrace, London. There is, of course, little money to be made in experimental cinema, although San Francisco is by no means Stern's only film. Anyone interested in his work could also check out, for example, his 1974 co-directorial effort, Ain't Misbehavin', which, like San Francisco, is a kind of cinematic collage. Any London Floyd fans should drop in to his shop for a chat; he will be only too happy to talk for hours about Barrett-era Floyd. He says that many of the visual ideas he explored in San Francisco find their counterpart in his work with glass. He is slightly less enthusiastic about people who, he claims, have stolen ideas from the film; but he nevertheless would have no objection to illicit distribution of his film, so long as his name were to remain attached to it. And that's it. One of the great mysteries of Pink Floyd history solved. What are the chances of fans getting to see the film? Despite the fact that no video is likely, it is not difficult to get hold of Stern's magnum opus. San Francisco is owned by the British Film Institute (I was surprised to learn that Stern doesn't own the rights to the film--not unexpectedly, he doesn't own the musical rights either); and as it's possible for film societies or even individuals to hire out any given BFI film, anyone in England (and elsewhere) with an interest in San Francisco can simply pay to view it. Given all this, it seems quite surprising that an illicit video of San Francisco has never emerged--not that I'm suggesting that any Pink Floyd fan should do such a thing, of course... David King is an expert on Floyd films, and a special contributor to Spare Bricks. Portions of this article may be reproduced, provided that both David King and Spare Bricks are properly credited. The pros and cons of being a murderous hitchhiker By David King
The soundtrack to the film The Committee arguably contains some of the most obscure music with which Pink Floyd is associated. Not only was the film never widely released (it did, however, have a reasonable run, paired with Visconti's The Stranger, at London's Odeon cinema), but also the music has only ever been available on a bootleg (released in 1985). To make matters worse, the music on this bootleg is not in a 'pure' form, for it is taken straight from the film, complete with dialogue. Given the mystery of The Committee and its music, it is interesting to look at both. The source material for this article is a videotape of the film (the master tape is in the British Film Institute), its RoIO soundtrack, plus comments and articles supplied by Peter Sykes (director of the film) and Max Steuer (owner of the film). The story of The Committee The film's plot is actually quite straightforward, which, considering the fact that the film is only 58 minutes long, is probably just as well. (The fact that the film is primarily a vehicle for the exploration of philosophical ideas also justifies the plot's simplicity.) Briefly, a hitch-hiking draftsman (the 'central figure') accepts a lift from a man in a Mercedes. Perceiving the latter to be entirely vacuous--to be 'not really alive at all'--the hitch-hiker seizes the opportunity, when the driver is looking under the hood, of using the car's hood to behead him. After due reflection and contemplation, however, he sews the head back on, at which point the driver, slightly dazed, drives off. Back at work, the draftsman receives a summons to a mysterious Committee. Is the Committee some kind of jury? Is it some kind of research board? It turns out that the Committee is nothing of the sort, but really a kind of body that mediates with regard to finding solutions to the problems of the world. The draftsman arrives at the large country house where the session of the Committee is to be held. This session actually resembles a party: one of the performers is Arthur Brown (of The Crazy World of Arthur Brown). In the course of the party's proceedings, the draftsman is taken by the Director of the Committee on a night-time stroll through the grounds, and it is at this point that philosophy--the raison d'etre of the film--takes central stage. Issues discussed include alienation, the assumption that all faceless committees must be hostile, and the responsibility one owes to one's future self. (The head which is removed from and then re-attached to the driver's body seems to be a metaphor for the learning process and the sudden change in outlook we receive at various points in our lives.) The film ends with a wiser and more enlightened central figure, presumably able to profit from his encounter with the Committee. The music of The Committee So what of the music? Like A Saucerful of Secrets, The Committee spans both the Barrett and the Gilmour era. According to Max Steuer, Barrett provided one track for the film; the track, however, was neither finished nor used. (Attempts are being made to release this track on a CD.) The music heard on the film contains Gilmour rather than Barrett, and was rehearsed and recorded, in half a day, in Max Steuer's basement at 3 Belsize Square, London. Surprisingly, a promotional song for the film, written by Paul Jones and Max Steuer and titled simply "The Committee", is currently commercially available on a UK import CD (The Paul Jones Collection, Volume 3, Come into My Music Box; RPM 183). The song tells the story of the film, but was not used in it. The music for The Committee is among the most abstract that Pink Floyd has produced. No doubt the abstract quality was prompted by the film's overtly philosophical subject matter. There are no actual songs in the film, although there are two very melodious instrumentals. The total length of the music and unaccompanied dialogue on the bootleg is just over 17 minutes, and comprises 9 pieces of varying length. The bootleg soundtrack, however, omits the film's introductory instrumental. (One piece - clearly the "Main Theme", as it is uninterrupted by dialogue - is reprised at the end in a slightly different form.) The rest of the tracks are 'mood pieces', but none of them is as abstract or free-form as, for example, "Nick's Boogie" from Tonight Let's All Make Love in London. If a comparison is needed, perhaps "Up the Khyber" from the soundtrack to More most resembles the general style of the pieces on The Committee. The introductory music lasts under a minute, and is one of the most abstract pieces ever recorded by Pink Floyd. It accompanies the title sequence which depicts human heads, and comprises a simple descending melody over futuristic electronic noises. 1. "The Main Theme." At 58", this is the second-longest piece on the soundtrack that is uninterrupted by dialogue (although dialogue does begin right at the end). It has a very 'catchy' tune, rather reminiscent of Bach's Chorale Prelude BWV 601 (if you will excuse the obscure reference!). The instrumentation is surprisingly sparse for Pink Floyd, and sounds like that of a typical band of the period, except for the prominence of Wright's organ-playing. The slightly wistful feeling of the piece, though, marks it as typically Floydian. 2. The next instrumental is roughly 1'10" in length, and is dominated by the sound of the electric guitar, although organ and drums are quite prominent. This is the only other 'melodious' piece on the soundtrack, and its jagged, racy riffs remind me of 'Pan Am Shuffle', from La Carrera Panamericana. There is a possibility, however, that the music is not by Pink Floyd at all but by Arthur Brown, who in the film at this point has just finished singing "Nightmare". The piece accompanies a discussion first of centaurs--there is the implication that the vacuous driver who has had his head sewn back on is rather like a centaur in reverse: the body of a man with the head of a horse--and then of madness (specifically that of a woman known to the central figure). Presumably the raciness of the music is intended to complement the bold ideas addressed in the discussion. Certainly the jagged music complements the references to mental breakdowns, disorientation, frayed nerves, etc. 3. The third piece is a typical Pink Floyd electronic 'doodle' of the late 60s, and accompanies the part of the film where the draftsman and the Director of the Committee are wandering around in a clock tower. An almost static wash of sound, it lasts barely fifteen seconds, and is unaccompanied by dialogue. The last few seconds are, however, interrupted by the tolling of a bell. 4. The next instrumental has a dark, ominous quality--a quality that is justified given that the central figure at this point is in an intellectual corner, forced to defend his beheading of the driver. The following is typical of the central figure's utterances at this point: "I can tell you this. In that car there was nothing, see, nothing. Just talk. It's fair to say, isn't it, that a man like that doesn't think. He doesn't really feel. He goes through the motions of being human because nobody has told him different." The music itself captures the kind of fragmentation being pointed to here: there is a sinuous, low-pitched melody (which reminds me of a section of Part 3 of "The Narrow Way") punctuated by short, high-pitched, discordant electronic phrases. The track lasts 1'55". 5. A very brief piece follows: roughly 11 seconds in duration, and of wavering intensity, its sound is reminiscent of that of rapidly-brushed windchimes. It creates a kind of 'ringing in the ears' effect, which seems justified, bearing in mind that it forms the background to the following exchange:
6. In many ways, the next piece is one of the most effective instrumentals on the soundtrack. It is 1'17" in length and starts with a sequence of low organ notes. Shortly afterwards, however, it is joined by a guitar; and for the rest of the piece there is a dialogue between high-pitched and discordant guitar phrases and low-pitched organ notes. 7. The next instrumental represents a development of the one just discussed; for whereas the latter piece features a dialogue between discordant guitar phrases and an organ, the one following it comprises a dialogue between discordant guitar phrases and a heartbeat rhythm. The instrumental has three sections: the first, which I have just described, lasts 1'25"; the second, which comprises the discordant guitar phrases by themselves, lasts 25" (the piece finishes with a loud, reverberating guitar phrase); and the third, which is a return to the organ notes of the beginning of Instrumental 6, lasts 30". The track provides the music to one of the dramatic turning-points of the film: the moment when the central figure tells his interlocutor that he knows his identity. (The moment corresponds to the change from heartbeat/guitar dialogue to guitar phrases by themselves.) The exchange is as follows:
8. An early version of "Careful with that Axe, Eugene" follows. At 2'26", it is the second longest piece on the soundtrack, and is heard later on in the clock tower. Unlike other versions, it doesn't really reach a dramatic climax, such as the usual scream, although a loud 'jangly' passage, which again reminds me of windchimes, does signal in a definite way the end of the track. "Careful with that Axe, Eugene," though, is fairly obviously an ominous-sounding piece; consequently there is justification for its forming the background music to a discussion of the possibility that the whole world is mad. The following lines are representative excerpts from the discussion:
9. "Main Theme (reprise)." At 3'15", this not only is the longest piece on the soundtrack, but also is the longest piece uninterrupted by dialogue (although there is one small interruption: a girl asks--obviously for symbolic reasons--whether the central figure plays bridge). It differs from the first version in that the drums and organ are far less obtrusive. In fact, guitar predominates, together with that oboe-like electronic keyboard that features so much in Pink Floyd's late-60s music. In summary, then, the film begins almost as it began: itself an intellectual statement. Obviously, the obscurity surrounding The Committee's soundtrack is undeserved. Not only does it feature two instrumentals that can be enjoyed purely for their own sake, but also it shows just how effectively Pink Floyd's music can enhance the mood of a film. Unfortunately, there is no hope that the film or soundtrack will be released in the near future. The band does not like the music of The Committee, and have blocked the film's release as a video (see the related article for the full details). The film, it must be said, is unlikely to be considered a masterpiece: its main fault is probably its subordination of the plot and characterization to exploration of philosophical ideas. On the other hand, the synopsis should certainly demonstrate that The Committee is a very unusual and original film, and it is well worth hiring from the British Film Institute. (Max Steuer's permission must be obtained for this, but he is very keen for as many people as possible to see his work.) David King is an expert on Floyd films, and a special contributor to Spare Bricks. An earlier version of this article appeared in Brain Damage Magazine. Portions of this article may be reproduced, provided that David King, Brain Damage, and Spare Bricks are properly credited. Que sera sera, is that your new Proteus Jaguar? By David King
Introduction One difficult aspect of writing a series of articles about Pink Floyd's film music is deciding exactly what should be covered. Should it be anything that features the music of Pink Floyd? In that case I would be committed to providing accounts of an almost endless series of films, most of which use Pink Floyd's music almost accidentally (such as Borowczyk's The Streetwalker.) Should it be, on the other hand, anything for which Pink Floyd wrote the music? But then I would be forced to write about such things as the probably-no-longer-existent BBC coverage of the first moon landing (for which Pink Floyd wrote "Moonhead"). Also, there is all the film work done by individual members of Pink Floyd, such as Roger Waters' When the Wind Blows, Nick Mason's Life Could be a Dream, and David Gilmour's music for Ruby Takes a Trip and for the drug documentary The Art of Tripping. In the light of this, I have decided to restrict myself to large-scale productions that feature work written specially for them by Pink Floyd as a unit. La Carrera Panamericana satisfies these criteria. It is, however, fairly obviously in a class of its own, simply because it is a documentary about the Mexican car race in which Gilmour and Mason were participants. General impressions The film's opening images are rather reminiscent of Zabriskie Point, for the first things we see are black silhouettes of desert plants against a red sky. Almost immediately, we hear the aggressive chords of a version of "Run Like Hell", and the images change from desert plants to Mexicans and then a car coming straight towards us. This is clearly a very suspenseful beginning; but the effect is wasted, for much of the next ten minutes is taken up, anticlimactically, with preparations for the race. In fact, I think it's fair to say that La Carrera Panamericana is not a well-directed production. It manages to make auto racing look quite boring. For example, one fundamental mistake that the director makes is that he alternates scenes of the cars going from left to right with scenes of the cars going from right to left, leaving the audience with the (subconscious) impression that the cars are going nowhere. That said, Pink Floyd's music generally provides an effective accompaniment to what is shown. The Music of La Carrera Panamericana During the first minutes of the film "Run Like Hell" is in the background, but all that remains of the lyrics are the words "Run... run... run...". Apart from the images already described there are shots of Mexicans on a railway; a woman's eyes; and Nick Mason with his racing partner (Val Lindsay). We are also told that "motor racing is a disease of the brain". Then we see David Gilmour poring over a map: he explains that the race is a six-day endeavor, beginning near the Guatemala border and ending near the Texas border. Shortly after this, there begins the first of the pieces of music written especially for the production: "Pan Am Shuffle", a fairly funky instrumental dominated by guitar and drums. (A recurring synthesizer effect, however, reminds me of "One of These Days".) "Yet Another Movie" follows. I have always thought that the beginning of this is reminiscent of two large tires falling off the back of a truck; but accompanying the music, in fact, are more images associated with getting ready for the race: drivers putting on their helmets, etc. We also see a rather pensive Nick Mason: this pensiveness helps to create a sense of expectancy. "Yet Another Movie", of course, has a sudden change of tempo; but the change in the tempo corresponds to nothing in the production--just shots of Mexicans milling about. However, when the cars do start to move, the background of strident guitars is quite effective. "Sorrow" is heard next--rather an odd choice, in my opinion, for while its aggressive, 'metal' sound complements the cars' power and speed, the piece's slowness does not. (Perhaps the intention was to suggest that after all the preparations the race itself is a sorrowful anticlimax; but there is really nothing in the film to support such a bizarre hypothesis.) The lyrics "His blood is frozen" start just as we see some cars negotiating a bend. Much is made of the fact that, in the towns the cars pass through, the drivers are treated like heroes. In one such town there is a scene of marching girls, who are accompanied by a raucous brass band; interspersed are more images of Mexicans going about their business. A discussion of the technical problems of Nick Mason's car is next. With clearly deliberate humor, "Signs of Life" plays as mechanics look over the car; and the static nature of the piece provides an effective accompaniment to the car's immobility (although the water sounds are a bit incongruous). Soon, however, there are more scenes of cars in motion; and we hear another of the instrumentals, "Country Theme", written especially for the production. As might be guessed, the word 'country' refers to the fact that most of the racing in this section is in the country, rather than the towns. "Country Theme" is a pleasantly wistful piece, dominated by folkish guitar-strumming. I find it strange that such a memorable track didn't find its way on to a Pink Floyd album. The next music is "Mexico 78", which is unavailable apart from the video. It's a fast piece, so the fact that it accompanies a very fast section of the race is quite appropriate. A simple plucked-guitar melody dominates the instrumental; this melody is repeated again and again at different pitches and with different degrees of urgency. It fades into the background when the camera lingers on a car that has broken down, only to become louder when the race again becomes the focus of attention. (It stops altogether when we are shown a scene of a road blockage). The piece's effectiveness almost disguises the pedestrian (if you will excuse the pun!) directing. My favorite piece from the soundtrack is next. It is "Big Theme", and it's a magnificent, moody, dignified instrumental, very much in the style of the tracks on David Gilmour's marvelous About Face album. Once heard, the guitar-dominated melody is very hard to get out of the mind. Some of the scenes it accompanies match its loftiness--there is, for example, an effective shot of a road stretching apparently to infinity--but most are just run-of-the-mill shots of the cars going from left to right and then from right to left. Annoyingly, it fades into the background while two women expatiate about such things as losing weight, and how many cassettes they listened to in the car. "Big Theme" is simply too memorable a track for it to be relegated to the background in this way! A brief reprise of "Run Like Hell" soon takes over, but as the cars are moving quite slowly, the use of the piece seems ironic. Total silence accompanies a brief sequence showing the sun set, and then we see Mason, Gilmour, and several others sitting around drinking and talking about the history of the race. Apparently the race started with the opening of the Pan-American Highway in the '50s. Several minutes of newsreel footage follow; we are informed that after 1954 the race was causing so many fatal accidents that it had to be stopped (only to be revived later). The soft, tinkling sounds at the beginning of "One Slip" signal a return to the race of the present, although for the moment the camera concentrates on Mexico and on Mexicans in their natural habitat. Soon, however, we again see the drivers putting on their helmets, and as the cars get under way so too does "One Slip". This track is not ineffective in a race context, but I can't help getting the feeling that it was chosen simply because it contains phrases like "road to ruin" and "a momentary lapse of reason"--phrases that obviously point to the dangers of racing. Certainly there are plenty of scenes of cars skidding and crashing at this point. (The music fades as a driver talks about an accident.) I'm not sure whether the next track is "Small Theme" or "Carrera Slow Blues". Certainly there is a discrepancy between the music heard in the production and the titles listed on the videocassette; for according to the cassette, the last track in the production is "Carrera Slow Blues", and it isn't: the last track is actually a reprise of "Pan Am Shuffle". (Apparently a TV release of the production, which I have not seen, has a different scheduling of music again). I'm inclined to think that the piece is "Carrera Slow Blues", simply because it is slow. Like "Big Theme", though, it's also wistful and dignified; and its synthesizer melody is heard as we are informed that David Gilmour's car has been involved in an accident (apparently Gilmour suffered only cuts and bruises). The music continues as the race draws to a close, and in this sense too its wistfulness is appropriate. We are told that thirty-five cars didn't complete, and that Mason's car finished eighth (a fact pleasing to Mason, for he tells us that none of the cars ahead of him could really have been beaten). On the other hand, the piece just described may be "Small Theme" after all, for there follows a bluesy, guitar-based piece that is extremely brief. Soon, however, "Pan Am Shuffle" is reprised, and we see the winners with their trophies. A segment showing Mexicans playing guitars and violins seems rather comic, given that the music we hear is actually by Pink Floyd. Then the credits start, although they alternate with various Mexican and racing images. Rick Wright is not given the same billing as Nick Mason or David Gilmour, but given the period from which the production dates, this is only to be expected. In summary, I think it's fair to say that two kinds of person should buy La Carrera Panamericana: people who are already interested in racing, and Pink Floyd fans. Anyone else would probably find the production extremely boring. But make no mistake: the best tracks in the video are very impressive, and well worth hearing--even if they do lack the kind of embellishment usually associated with Pink Floyd's music. David King is an expert on Floyd films, and a special contributor to Spare Bricks. Portions of this article may be reproduced, provided that David King and Spare Bricks are properly credited. |
