FUNNY HA HA

Did FUNNY HA HA play on more than three or four screens, ever? I don't know. 95% or more of the people who will see it over the course of its life as a work of art will do so on a television with a DVD player. After they get past the Wellspring logo and the title screen with the aggressive piano music (a strange choice for a film with no music except for bits of nondescript diegetic music in restaurants and at parties), there's no studio logo or intro. No production company calling card. The movie just starts, after announcing the title, and then later just ends, followed by handwritten credits. Putting aside the fact that the same digital home video technology employed by films with actual budgets is responsible for delivering the film to me, there's something very different happening here. It's as if the film went directly from Andrew Bujalski to my DVD player, with no in-between stops to be vetted or imprimatured or test-audienced.

Yeah, I know. That's willfully naive. Plus, it ignores the couple-years-ago copyright and Wellspring's involvement (aside: finally a transfer even they couldn't mangle). There were stops and starts through the process. People had to be talked into this; it had to be invested in. Sure. But that bit-- the part where you hit play and his movie just comes on, unannounced and unclaimed-- divides the sheep from the goats. The goats will see that transition and think, "What is this? Some low budget thing a guy made in his garage?" The sheep will say, "This is fantastic." And they'll say that even if the movie doesn't strike them as great right away. The confluence of digital distribution, internet niche-creating and digital filmmaking (even if Bujalski's not working with it now) holds the promise of finding new channels of creativity. Bujalski's second feature is available for direct online purchase, and includes a handwritten note of thanks. He's gathered two mentions at slate.com in the past month, though, so he's likely to not stay anonymous much longer among the film-savvy set.

None of the above would matter if the film weren't itself quite effective. It fails conventional QC tests which ask whether a sufficient amount of something happens and whether the central character grows or changes as a result of that something. But who cares about that stuff anyway? I've heard the film referred to once or twice as SLACKER from a young woman's point-of-view, but that just suggest to me that the scarcity of films like this leaves them without convenient points of reference. FUNNY HA HA depicts a few weeks or months in the life of a young woman named Marnie who can't seem to chart a straight course in her love life or her work life. She goes through a couple of jobs which may or may not match her skills and spends time talking to friends (all of whom want to see her fixed up) and going to parties. The actress who plays Marnie was unknown to me, but I think she's one of the most recognizable people I've ever seen in a film. I could try to describe her, but it's really beside the point to do so. Describing her limits her in a way that the film doesn't. She is someone you know.

There are at least two ways in which Marnie's story is like that of the typical lead in a romantic comedy or drama. First, she resolves to improve herself in the unstated hope that different habits and qualities will make her happier. Second, she's in love with someone who wants only to be her friend and friendly with someone who is in love with her. In other words, the most commonplace story elements imaginable.