Brock Enright and the Laws of Thermodynamics

Absolute zero is defined as the temperature at which thermodynamic systems cease molecular function as we know it—a state of matter that is virtually impossible to achieve in our universe. Scientists have never actually reached it, but as they’ve gotten close they’ve discovered that as temperatures approach absolute zero, matter takes on mindbending properties like superconductivity and superfluidity. Brock Enright, the star and subject of Jody Lee Lipes’ directorial debut Brock Enright: Good Times Will Never Be the Same, seems to be conducting similar experiments in the realm of contemporary art.

Enright is a visual artist whose work spans many mediums, incorporating performance and video art with sculpture and installation. After securing patronage from the Perry Rubenstein Gallery in New York to create a body of new work for an upcoming solo show, the film begins by following Enright and his girlfriend, Kirsten, on a road trip to her family cabin in Mendocino, California. The two pull over periodically to shoot weird videos against breathtaking backdrops, and as they explore the American landscape they experiment with images, sounds, and personas. Their willingness to immerse themselves in all that is strange and psychedelic is reminiscent of Kit and Holly from Terence Malick’s Badlands or Mickey and Mallory from Oliver Stone’s Natural Born Killers. While Brock and Kirsten are not on a cross-country murder spree, the intimation of violence is never far behind them. When they arrive at the secluded cabin in the woods in Mendocino, this underlying sense of imminent danger is still present, and when Enright and company start playing with chainsaws and donning masks, it feels as though the movie could devolve at any moment into a slasher horror.

It is here that Enright gets serious about his upcoming show. No one ever said artists are easy to live with, and Enright does nothing to refute the stereotype of the New York artist as a pretentious narcissist. While Kirsten seems terrified about money, Brock complains that he doesn’t feel supported, and he needs to be “in it,” not worrying about earthly matters like paying the phone bill. After a half an hour of grandiloquent speeches about his process, the film builds a serious case of doubt about Enright’s ability to deliver. Quit bitching and get to the good stuff, Brock!

But, very quickly, the film reveals itself to be a movie about process, and Lipes shows an admirable degree of restraint, especially as this is his first feature. As the storyteller, Lipes is not particularly generous with background or didactic information, so watching this movie requires more of an effort on the part of the audience. Lipes doesn’t seem interested in contextualizing Enright’s art, and he deftly avoids projecting his own feelings about the work onto the audience—a tricky conceit to pull off, but it is what ultimately makes watching this film so rewarding. An example to the contrary would be The Woodmans, C. Scott Willis’s documentary about the late photographer, Francesca Woodman. Willis places a world of “atmosphere” and contextualization onto a retrospective slideshow of her work that completely robs the audience of any chance they had of connecting to Woodman’s work on a personal level. Alternately, Lipes opts for honesty, and respects the intelligence of his viewers.

When Enright gets working, we only get glimpses of what it is he is creating: an open air theater where warped fairy tales and pantomimes worthy of Grand-Guignol unfold, half-baked sculptures and melted hardware on their paths to becoming fine art. At times, his work makes allusions to Paul McCarthy in bringing juvenile ideas and scatology into an intellectual sphere, especially when a sinister Mousie cuts Enright’s feces with a knife. (Cut the crap, Kirsten!)

When Nicette, a representative from the Perry Rubenstein Gallery, pays a visit to his workshop in Mendocino, Enright throws her into his process and keeps her there against her will. (This might be a good time to mention Enright operates a voluntary kidnapping service where he tortures his clients emotionally per their own design.) As Enright steers Nicette toward the brink of hysteria, his sylvan theater finally explodes into an orgiastic carnival of screaming and smashing. Enright delivers! All his squawking about process becomes justified as enigmatic concepts and animalistic emotions are released at last like from some nuclear bang. It is here we realize that Enright’s system truly functions at its maximum when he leads his band of merry pranksters on a path to disintegration, chaos reigns, and everyone hovers on the brink of their own personal absolute zero. And it’s extremely fun to watch! When Nicette is finally driven to tears, she asks Brock, “You want me here?” and he says yes. He wants her in a position of frailty and volatility. And frankly these scenes are the most powerful in the movie.

Of all the colorful characters in Brock Enright: Good Times Will Never Be the Same, Lipes is the only one we never meet. The film is so focused on Enright’s process that we must inevitably think of Lipes’ which lies in perfect juxtaposition to Enright’s—a measured and thoughtful construction, with clean, radiant, and sometimes unusual images. A shooter by trade (Wild Combination, Opus Jazz, Tiny Furniture, Afterschool, Two Gates of Sleep), each frame looks like it could be hanging in a contemporary art gallery, and even the music was entirely performed on camera by Mr. Enright himself. Given this film and Lipes’ directorial follow-up NY Export: Opus Jazz, look forward to a long and illustrious career from this emerging voice in independent film. -Christianne Hedtke

Brock Enright: Good Times Will Never Be the Same was released TODAY on DVD from Factory 25. Buy it AND put it on your Netflix queue. Brock Enright will also be screening at BAM in July. Check your local listings!