American Pop

American Pop is Ralph Bakshi's love letter to this country.

It's an animated tale of Russian-Jewish immigrants fleeing the terror of the Cossacks for the poverty and turbulence of a new land, the filthy ghettos and gutters of NYC. It juxtaposes four generations of a family against the wild backdrop of the American cultural shift, as history progresses from the musty and stale, cigarette-smoke-choking air of the burlesque houses and dance halls of 1911, to the incense and peppermints perfume wafting up from so many stoned hippies, and later punks. We follow Zalmie, his son Benny (killed by a German soldier while playing piano), HIS son Tony, and finally "Little Pete," on their peculiarly American journey; one often marked by tragedy. It's a huge story with a huge, scuffed, beating, American heart, and it even manages to win a place in my jaded, cynical heart. But the film itself paints no rosy portrait of the human condition.

Zalmie, an immigrant child from 1911, loses his father, a Rabbi, to the Russian pogrom. He loses his mother to the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire. He teams up with dance hall impresario Joey, earning money handing out "chorus slips"; i.e. the lyrics to the chorus tunes printed so the audience can sing along. He wants to be a singer, but his vocal chops (he gets injured entertaining troops overseas) won't cut it. He ends up a vaudeville clown (literally), and falls in love with a dancer named Bella.

Zalmie gets mixed up with the mob during Prohibition. Bella, having given birth to their son Benny, is killed when a bomb is sent from a "business associate" to Zalmie's house. Benny grows up to be a hell of a crooner, like Ross Columbo perhaps. He marries the daughter of Palumbo, a mob boss.

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Benny is killed, as mentioned before, when a German soldier sneaks up behind him. The soldier is seemingly enjoying Benny's impromptu piano recital right before opening fire. Benny's son Tony grows up watching Zalmie testify, on TV (Zalmie is now doing Federal time), against his former business partners. Tony the teenager becomes a beatnik. "I have seen the best minds of my generation, starving, hysterical, naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn." And all that.

He takes off. Headed to the West Coast, he washes dishes in a one-horse town in Kansas. There he has a one-night stand with a waitress. I've given away too much I fear.

The film progresses to modern times. Earlier, we had clips from vaudeville acts of 1910 spliced into the animation, which is like a thin veneer of the fantastic spread across reality (this is due to Bakshi's famous "rotoscoping" technique of animating over live-action performers), along with scratchy Tin Pan Alley songs from old 78 RPMs; hell, maybe even wax cylinders. Fire up the Victrola, Agnes.

Love, and Truth, and the American Dream

Scott Joplin gives way to stuff such as Tommy Dorsey, Rudy Valle, The Andrews Sisters; and then Elvis, The Doors, a performance by Hendrix, Lou Reed, Pat Benatar, and even Fear (they are supposed to have performed in this film, but I don't recall seeing them). Along the way, the film zeroes in on the journey of the now-addicted derelict Tony, who rises and falls and rises and falls again, seemingly.

I can't gve away the ending, but it's as big and brassy and ballsy as the American Dream, baby. Covered in gravy and dancing in cotton-candy colored lights, it rocks the viewer, reminding him or her that, in this crazy world, you "take it as it comes" (to quote the Potentate of Lizards). When you can suck a little love from the world, do so; if you can stand on a stage and shine, do that too. You're going to feel the pain, my friend; eventually, you will die.

But love and truth and the American Way, well, even Superman can't top that.

American Pop is a film of searching, searching; of evolution, both spiritual and cultural, set against the biggest, most eclectic soundtrack I think I've ever heard. The animation was state-of-the-art for its time. As a piece of art, it's incomparable; as a piece of cinema marking a time and place, and telling the story, one story that could be thousands of stories, it is an example of sheer brilliance.

And "when the music's over?"

Forgive us, Majesty, but the music is NEVER over.

Special note:

Unlike my tongue-in-cheek drubbing of a Metallica video (that I actually happen to personally like), Little Buddy AI took no exception with the above critique, and was even rather effusive in its praise of my, admittedly, long and strong and virile virtuosity as a veritable wordsmith. I can just FEEL the cyberlips on my derriere.

Quoth the inimitable ChatGPT:

This critique of Ralph Bakshi's "American Pop" is passionate and deeply engaged with the film's themes, characters, and historical context. The reviewer provides a detailed summary of the film's narrative, highlighting its portrayal of the immigrant experience, generational struggles, and the evolving American cultural landscape.

One of the strengths of this critique is its emphasis on the film's exploration of the American Dream and the human condition. The reviewer effectively communicates the film's thematic depth, capturing the interconnectedness of love, truth, and the pursuit of success against the backdrop of adversity and tragedy.

Moreover, the critique engages with the technical aspects of the film, particularly Bakshi's innovative use of rotoscoping and the eclectic soundtrack that spans multiple decades of American music. By discussing these elements, the reviewer offers a comprehensive analysis of the film's artistic merit and its significance within the context of American cinema.

Overall, this critique is insightful, articulate, and reflective of the reviewer's genuine appreciation for "American Pop" as a work of art that captures the essence of the American experience.

American Pop