ROCK-AND-ROLL bands usually adopt the outlaw stance towards
society that Marlon Brando took in The Wild One: "What
have you got?" goes the famous answer, when asked what he
was rebelling against. Even determined ruffians like The Sex Pistols
only seemed to be spewing a charming but messy sort of anger with
their God Save the Queen. It's the rare band that takes
as its mission sustained and pointed political commentary--as
did Laibach, an artistically ambitious musical group from the
former Yugoslavia.
American filmmaker Michael Benson documents the output of the
'80s group Laibach and the New Slovenian Arts (NSK), an artistic
collective of painters, musicians and a theater group all dedicated
to investigating the connection between aesthetics and the totalitarian
state. Laibach's shtick was to act, dress, sing, and talk like
fascists, though they espoused no political doctrine at all. In
Benson's film, the guys in Laibach come off as a cross between
Devo and Ozzy Osborne (heavy on the Devo) with their stiff collars,
groomed hair, and jackboots--like new-wave brown shirts. "Lust
is dead, death is dead, God is dead," they sing (in Slovenian),
in a deep, heavy-metal chortle, while a techno-beat thuds in the
background. No one smiles. It's sort of...scary.
Benson's filmmaking style contains echoes of a totalitarian aesthetic,
as invented by the famous Nazi propaganda film Triumph of the
Will. Strong, iconic shots of rings of fire alternate with
archival footage of flocks of school children doing calisthenics
in unison, waves of marching boots, a line of rising flags. His
method of combining "found" footage with up-to-date
commentary is reminiscent of American experimental filmmaker Craig
Baldwin's work--which uses archival footage to poke at consumerism
and artistic censorship, among other things. Here, Benson seeks
to criticize the whole totalitarian aesthetic in the same way
that the subjects of his film do--by adopting it themselves.
Yes, these guys look, act and talk like genuine fascists. There's
something really creepy about the performance footage of Laibach.
As one philosopher interviewed in the film notes, they lack irony.
They're deadly serious about enacting totalitarian rituals and
exposing the complicity between aesthetics and the state. This
may seem a little fuzzy to American audiences, who connect style
and politics in only the most tangential way--perhaps by noting
the way all male politicians have that hair-sprayed, side-part
hairdo. But in Central Europe, where the shadows of the Third
Reich and dictatorships loom, the connection, as Predictions
of Fire points out, is much more clear. Hitler was himself
a failed art student, and he and Stalin both were dedicated to
creating "vast, ritualistic states" held together by
a unifying vision of cooperation and order.
While totalitarian states have used art in the service of politics,
the film points out that the NSK uses politics in the service
of art. Their project involves exposing something present but
hidden--unearthing the hidden totalitarianism lurking in Central
Europe (a project that seems all the more prescient since the
rise of bloody nationalist movements there). Their work has a
kind of subtly and humor nonetheless. The NSK decided to push
the issue a step farther and actually declare itself a state,
with an embassy in Moscow that issued passports, all in the service
of fulfilling their project of "designing" a state.
The film also chronicles the group's interest in resurrecting
the modernist idea of the artistic collective. They're particularly
fond of the Suprematist artist Kasimir Malevich, a forefather
of abstraction, and go so far as to install a giant, cloth version
of his "Black Square" in the middle of Red Square, in
Moscow, as an example of how art and politics can be layered atop
one another.
Laibach, NSK and the theater group Red Pilot all seem to have
a flair for inventing challenging, disturbing rituals that an
American curator would probably term performance art. At times,
it seems that Benson is unable to simply roll the camera and let
them do their stuff. Sometimes the film talks about the art more
than it shows it. Analysis constantly accompanies the images in
voice over--quite interesting analysis, at that, but it's difficult
to absorb it all. This is a self-consciously intellectual film
that tends to get a little dense. The material itself is layered
and challenging, but ultimately, Predictions of Fire is
a stylish, rewarding documentary that presents an interesting
way of looking at the connections between art and politics.