FFWD Weekly
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Video by Jaime Frederick Richard Hell’s "Blank Generation" was as much an anthem as punk rockers could ever have asked for – it was recorded by Hell’s New York combo the Voidoids long before the Sex Pistols and other British bands became synonymous with punk in the late 1970s. Still, even considering Hell’s early nihilistic clairvoyance as a songwriter, it’s hard to believe anyone could have thought "Blank Generation" a good starting point for a feature film. Whoever unearthed this nugget from 1979, Blank Generation, the movie, failed to realize that some "treasures" of the punk era would be better left buried. Hell’s performance here is so embarrassingly wooden, this absurd mess of a movie should probably have been retitled Blank Stare for this DVD re-release. Hell’s stiffness is matched only by the histrionics of his leading lady, Carole Bouquet, sometime groupie, even-less-of-the-time actress. Even Andy Warhol’s brief, silent appearance is a complete waste of film. About the only thing saving this one from utter ridiculousness is the rare live footage of Hell and the Voidoids at CBGB – an interesting glimpse of one of the more proficient and, although it is hard to tell from this film, intelligent bands of the time. At least Blank Generation has an air of authenticity to it, even if it’s merely authentically pretentious – Alison Anders’s latest can’t even manage that. Sugar Town is surely one of the most shallow films about a shallow industry that’s ever been made. This ensemble piece plays like the worst situation comedy, bordering on farce and venturing well into the realm of stereotypes. The acting, from some usually stalwart performers (Rosanna Arquette, John Doe, Ally Sheedy), is almost uniformly flat (enough to make Richard Hell look animated). Of course, this could be the fault of a flaccid script that covers all the Hollywood excesses – sex, drugs, rock ’n’ roll and flaky new age philosophy – almost as if by rote. Sugar Town is so humdrum and familiar, Anders should be ashamed she’s strayed so far from her roots making heartfelt personal films (like 1989’s Gas, Food, Lodging), or at least thankful she doesn’t have to bear the full responsibility for this dreck and can hang half the blame on co-director Kurt Voss.

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