I struggled with this question when I wrote a short book on the film This Is Spinal Tap, because that movie didn’t seem to jibe with any of the prevailing theories about the nature of film cultishness. It isn’t beloved by only a small, devoted audience; it doesn’t contain esoterica graspable only by those “in the know”; it is certainly not “so bad, it’s good”; it does not court controversy; it is not a “lost treasure,” rediscovered by fans after failing to receive its due in its original release. But I think few film lovers would deny that This Is Spinal Tap is indeed a cult film.
Ultimately, I concluded, rather plainly, that a cult film is simply one that, for any number of reasons, attracts a devoted following. Furthermore, the term “cult” implies no particular scale: A film’s cult may be small (like that of, say, the oddball semi-satire The Wizard of Speed and Time) or large (I see no reason why we can’t call films in the Star Wars series “cult films”; same for The Lord of the Rings movies, and even for beloved classics like Casablanca). All of these films have inspired devotion in a certain segment of their audiences in ways that movies such as, say, 27 Dresses and Shooter do not. Cult films, it seems to me, can achieve that status in any number of ways. If they strike the right note with their audiences, they’re in the club.
Buckaroo Banzai is basically incomprehensible. Characters, plotlines, even ostensible jokes remain impossible to parse. The film’s makers would like you to believe that many of the characters and situations in the film are “weird” or “zany,” though they are actually rather underdeveloped. It’s not enough, in other words, to have Jeff Goldblum dressed up like a cowboy just because it’s “quirky” to have Jeff Goldblum dressed up like a cowboy. Better there be some kind of justification for that sartorial choice; such things tend to enrich a text.
Not to mention that the film does not use cinematic style in any particularly inventive manner. I noted not a single cut, camera placement, camera movement or soundtrack choice that was anything other than functional. The style contributes nothing to the film whatsoever, merely delivering story information without adding any sort of artistically worthwhile value. And when that story information is itself impossible to parse (not because it’s “deep” but because it’s deployed with incompetence), it’s a bit of a double-whammy.
The weird thing is that the members of Buckaroo Banzai‘s cult celebrate the film for its putative greatness. Seems to me that, if it is to be granted cult status, it belongs in the “so bad, it’s good” category. Beyond Lithgow’s unhinged performance and the enjoyable closing credits (which are nevertheless marred by incompetent camerawork), I find little in this film that was pulled off with any skill. I’d argue that it’s far more incompetently made than Plan 9, long regarded as “the worst film of all time.”
One possible reason is that the film is an underdog of sorts. Famously, Buckaroo Banzai was released indifferently by its studio, MGM, premiering in a small number of theaters at the very moment the politically controversial 1984 Summer Olympics commenced. Reviews were mostly pretty tepid, but there was enough weirdness in the film to inspire some of its fans to rally behind it, proclaiming loudly that Buckaroo had not been fairly treated by its studio. Everybody likes a lost cause.
That “weirdness” — a hero who’s a scientist and a rock star, Rastafarian aliens, nutty character names — does indeed distinguish Buckaroo Banzai from other films, mostly because its weird bits are deployed with such randomness. That “you never know what’s coming next” approach has a certain appeal, I’ll admit.
Moreover, the film presented itself to these boys at a highly impressionable moment: Their own tastes in music and movies were just congealing. As Daniel Levitin has argued in his books about human beings’ deep neurological connections to music, the artworks that we admire at the age of about 13 have a tendency to form the basis of our overall artistic preferences. Even if we don’t listen to it much anymore, we’ll always have a soft spot for the album that was our favorite when we were 13 or 14. Same thing with movies, and all the more so when we can claim them, for reasons of their oddness or difference, as our own.
Teenage boys, as is well known, can yell pretty loudly, and often succeed in imposing their opinions on others. It’s my hypothesis that the initial fans of this film yelled pretty loudly, and thereby set the tone for the cult status of Buckaroo Banzai. And once a film gains a reputation as a cult film, it’s pretty hard to shake. So even though, in my opinion, The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension is worthy only of “negative” cult status, it remains beloved by its many fans.
As for me, I’m done with it. Life’s too short for crappy movies, even if they do have John Lithgow in them.
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Laugh while you can, monkeyboy.
I posted this to Facebook and then tried to friend you, Ethan, but couldn’t find you, so I’m commenting here too.
Ethan, ok, yeah, the film is deeply campy and one of the most dated films of the 80s (the fashions, OMG) and I don’t expect it to be universally loved, particularly by people who didn’t get to experience it in the 80s. And yeah, you’re ponderings about why this film caught on with teenage boys at that particular time sound about right to me (I was 15 in 1985, when I first saw the film on home video).
But there’s SO MUCH that’s great about this film. And while I don’t want to be a whiny fanboy who just says, “you just didn’t GET IT, man!,” I kinda think maybe you just didn’t get it, man. At least that was my impression from reading your piece. Here are a few reactions:
Cult status: I’m sorry, but if Star Wars and the LOTR films get to be “cult” then that pretty much makes the term meaningless. In order to have cult status, a film has to appeal to esoteric tastes on some level. If that removes Spinal Tap from the running (is that a universally loved film?) then so be it, but huge blockbusters, it seems to me, are definitionally not cult films.
“Buckaroo Banzai is basically incomprehensible.”
It’s actually not. It’s complex. In most scenes, important exposition happens in background dialogue or comes from characters talking over each other. You need to pay attention. I’m not saying people who miss this are dumb or low-attention viewers — it’s a style choice and its not going to work for everyone and it’s arguably hostile to casual viewing, but it’s not incomprehensible. Comprehension requires work and work requires giving a shit and if you don’t like the film, that’s a hard ask.
Example: The reason Jeff Goldblum is wearing a cowboy suit is because he’s a neurosurgeon that BB has just asked to join the famously quirky team of rock star super heroes and his only familiarity with them up to this point has been from comic books. He assumes they ALL wear hokey costumes to go along with their hokey nicknames — the cowboy suit is a dorky over-reaction. The nickname “New Jersey” is a joke at his expense. This info is all available in the film if you’re paying attention.
“the film does not use cinematic style in any particularly inventive manner. I noted not a single cut, camera placement, camera movement or soundtrack choice that was anything other than functional.”
Three notes: 1. This comment immediately belies your jab that Plan 9 is a more competently made film. Ed Wood is famous in part for having fundamentally misunderstood basic functional filmmaking. 2. The complex narrative exposition described above is an inventive filmic choice. 3. The DP was Fred Koenekamp, who shot Patton and Papillon (among a slew of other classics on the 70s and 80s), two films that also featured “functional” filmmaking.
Actually I have a 4th note: so what? I can name a dozen “great” films that feature conventional, functional filmmaking. Great film comes most often from writing and acting — and I say this as a filmmaker. Swooping camera moves and clever match cuts do not a great movie make and a lack of them certainly doesn’t mean a film is bad.
Hong Kong Cavaliers Forever! Without BB, I doubt we would have had Lithgow on “3rd Rock From the Sun,” so potentially no Joseph Gordon Levitt! Jeff Goldblum is a god-damn national treasure, and BB is one of the many reasons why. At heart, I think “Guardians of the Galaxy” owes more to BB than it does to “Star Wars.” If loving BB is wrong, I don’t want to bother being right. BB was my first film cult, with cool newsletter clubs–I was in both the League of Lectroids for Lizardo and a Penny Purdy club. I had a Ford Cavalier I named “Perfect Tommy.” Three things made me think I could live in Los Angeles–“Columbo,” “The Decline of Western Civilization” and “Buckaroo Banzai.” Ethan has every right to his opinion, but I am sad for the fun he is missing. BB is messy and inconsistent and surreal–and that is why I love it–it has a quirky, organic vibe that is endearingly punk rock to me. I love it as much for the things it ISN’T than the things it is. In a hundred years, it will still have fans, when bigger budgeted, slicker, and more linear films are long forgotten. No matter where you go, there you are, and I stand firmly with Buckaroo!
Thanks for the thoughtful reply, billsimmon. I thought that perhaps that post would generate a strong response or two!
While I still don’t find anything of interest in this film, I do appreciate your take on it. One man’s complexity is another man’s incomprehensibility, I suppose, but I feel pretty strongly that the story in this film does not cohere. It feels to me as if it suffered some ill-considered edits at the last minute, and that these edits had the unfortunate result of leaving certain story threads hanging. (From what I understand about the studio’s handling of this film, such an event was fairly likely.) Few story actions are carried out with justification or explanation — a good example of this is the ostensible love story between Buckaroo and Penny and its “backstory” that has to do with twins or something. Just nonsensical. Very few characters have clear goals or intentions, and some characters don’t even have clear roles in Buckaroo’s crew/band; some of them aren’t even named or introduced!
I was, I promise, paying attention, and I understand the ostensible sources of the in-jokes. But a film that’s ALL in-jokes (as this film seems to me to be) doesn’t, in my opinion, provide a very satisfactory viewing experience. It’s all subtext, no text. The story is fragmented and unclear, even for someone who has seen this film multiple times and was paying close attention. I actually wanted my negative opinion of this film to be proved wrong by my recent viewing, so I went in with an open mind. Alas.
And regardless of the talented people who may have been employed on this film, it is no better than merely adequately made, in my opinion. Camera angles and movements are poorly chosen, ill-justified, and often unintentionally shaky; the lighting is flat-out awful; and, in that it fails to bring together the story elements in a comprehensible fashion, the editing is inadequate. If the IDEA of the film were to confuse (if it were, say, an avant-garde film), then film style could be said to have been used well. But since the idea was, presumably, to use style to convey a story, I’d say that the style failed. (I don’t think that PATTON is particularly well-shot, either, for what it’s worth. I wouldn’t call Koenekamp a great stylist.)
I don’t wish style to be used gratuitously; nor do I think that direction, acting, or story are unimportant to filmmaking. (I admire lots of “normal” films.) But in most Hollywood films, style has a task: to tell the story. In this film, that task is unrealized.
As for my initial question (“What makes a film a cult film?”), I strongly believe that the size of a film’s cult does not affect that film’s cul status. What matters is that it has a devoted following. I’m posing the question as one of KIND; you suggest that it’s one of DEGREE, but I don’t think that’s the right approach. Few films have followings as devoted as those in the STAR WARS or LOTR series, so why shouldn’t we call them cults? Obscurity, in other words, is not a necessary characteristic for cult status, in my opinion; ardent enthusiasm is. In fact, ardent enthusiasm is the ONLY qualification, I’d argue, that matters here.
I see what’s SUPPOSED to be great about BUCKAROO BANZAI. I just don’t find it to be great, or even good. Quotable one-liners and a general sense of “weirdness” isn’t enough. I need a little more substance!
Thank you for reading and commenting on the column. We might disagree on this film, but I really enjoy having a dialogue about movies. Care to suggest a film for an upcoming “What I’m Watching”? I’ll happily take a look at anything you suggest!
If the only qualification for “Cult status” is ardent enthusiasm, doesn’t that just mean if a film is popular, it’s a cult film? That seems like the opposite of how the term has been used in practice. The best baseline I can think of are the “cult” sections in video stores. They tended to be populated by films that general audiences found weird or actively distasteful, but that a small and devoted following adored. There’s a reason Sam Raimi’s 1995 western, The Quick and the Dead, is a cult film and Clint Eastwood’s 1992 western, Unforgiven, is not. What is that reason? Having ardent fans isn’t enough. Here’s wikipedia, which I think supports my perspective on this:
“A cult film, also commonly referred to as a cult classic, is a film that has acquired a cult following. Cult films are known for their dedicated, passionate fanbase, an elaborate subculture that engage in repeated viewings, quoting dialogue, and audience participation. Inclusive definitions allow for major studio productions, especially box office bombs, while exclusive definitions focus more on obscure, transgressive films shunned by the mainstream. The difficulty in defining the term and subjectivity of what qualifies as a cult film mirror classificatory disputes about art. The term cult film itself was first used in the 1970s to describe the culture that surrounded underground films and midnight movies, though cult was in common use in film analysis for decades prior to that.”
Thanks for offering to have me suggest a film. I’ll have to give it some thought.
That Wikipedia piece makes a nice point about how difficult it is to define the term “cult film.” I also appreciate the point about how this minor dispute reflects larger disputes in the currents of art history. That’s uncommonly well-observed, I’d say. Seems like you and I are representatives of the two sides of that discussion!
My definition of a cult film is one that operates on a wavelength that registers with only a fraction of its viewers, but for those viewers with whom it does register, it inspires devoted admiration. Clearly, BB’s wavelength did not register with you, but it sure as heck did with me (and still does). I find myself disagreeing with nearly every point of your review (aside from the flat camerawork, which: as Bill Simmon notes: Who cares?). I find the story perfectly comprehensible. There’s not a single plot point of character beat that isn’t entirely coherent. There aren’t “in-jokes” so much as a consistent internal universe. This is first-class world building that can be enjoyed cold. However, if, as a viewer, you bring to the table a love and knowledge of comic books, old radio shows, and Doc Sage pulps (as I did), all the better.
I was puzzled by the following assertion: “[This is Spinal Tap] is not a ‘lost treasure,’ rediscovered by fans after failing to receive its due in its original release.” Doesn’t that exactly describe Spinal Tap? The movie was only a modest success upon its original release (and the first test audiences didn’t understand it at all). Its stature grew after it was released on home video.
“Jeff Goldblum dressed up like a cowboy just because it’s “quirky” to have Jeff Goldblum dressed up like a cowboy. Better there be some kind of justification for that sartorial choice; such things tend to enrich a text.”
But there is a justification. Sydney believes he’s been asked to join the band. He knows nothing about them (though he tries to fake his way through his first encounter with the gang) and makes an assumption based on BB’s first name, that it’s a country-western group — hence his getup. (“You know, I thought we were gonna rehearse…”)
Bill Simmon covered everything so nicely, that I wondered if I should bother writing at all… glad he set you straight on the plainly apparent reasoning for Goldblum’s cowboy get-up. Somehow your comment on that bothered me more than your general points on the film’s supposed incomprehensibility or nonsensicality. In fact, it almost invalidated the latter- like, man, if you can’t even parse that one…
While I would concede that the seams and the glue sometimes show in this movie (at points quite literally),* for me that has never taken away from its very particular artfulness. From a production standpoint, its scrappy underdog nature (which you correctly cite as largely the result of extreme adversity/lack of support in the production process) was perceptible and endearing to me even as I watched it in ’84 at age 10; I found it wholly inspiring. Yes, as you assert, it hit me at a time of extreme impressionability, and I was (and am) an avid supporter of it. It was, in its way, entirely analogous to many art-currents I was becoming immersed in simultaneously: dada, punk rock, weird fiction, old adventure serials. The experience of revisiting it does speak to me in a romantic/nostalgic way of that period of my life… but I’ve seen about a thousand+ movies since, and I can say for certain that I believe the film has significant worth beyond its personal value, interesting as a key link between the past and future of its genre, and just a damn fun watch. Unlike certain things I was wildly enthusiastic about in youth, now best left behind, it embarrasses me not at all to revisit it, share it, or sing its praises.
I like that the movie juxtaposes its concepts with what, I agree, is “flat”, functional cinematography. Have I watched this movie and fantasized about how particular scenes might have been more compellingly presented? Of course. However, I feel the style harkens back to the B-westerns and sci-fi serials that are its predecessors, and moreover the predecessors of far slicker fare of the period. Movies like Raiders of The Lost Ark paid similar tributes, aesthetically and storywise, but what you have in BB is a technical tribute (intentional or not, doesn’t really matter, net result is the same) to those earlier films met with a deep aesthetic (beneath the hilariously dated 80s fashions, music, etc) that is entirely cyberpunk-futuristic and biomechanically-inclined. It was perfectly in its moment in speaking to society’s burgeoning info-and-techno-insatiability and the individual desire/need to be everywhere at once and master of all (rocker/neurosurgeon/interdimensional adventurer)… while still having to actively, painfully, comically deal with the surrounding irrationality, ignorance and decay in everyday life (Red Lectroids, the government… nightclub owners). That type of juxtaposition is not only at the heart of what makes this movie great, it also clearly places it in the Dadaist/Surrealist tradition.
The design of the alien environments carried on, in beautiful ways, the lived-in, dirty futurism first popularized in the late 70s by Star Wars and Alien. The organic, seashell-like contours of the spacecraft; the milky, insulating liquid that flows into a cabin before take-off; the hanging flight jacket seemingly made of meat. It’s a novel and notable twist that all of this, too, is shot through with levity. The Black Lectroids appear to human eyes as Rastafarians; casting an otherworldly race in the guise of an extremely Earth-bound, largely rural human religion is another simple but effective device,** deftly employed by the film, for making the extraterrestrial seem accessible and familiar. I have for years seen direct echoes and outright copies*** of Buckaroo Banzai’s concept and design innovations in other films.
How much cleverness does the film “purport” to contain? Well, one of its main conceits is that Orson Welles’ 1938 “War of The Worlds” broadcast was not a hoax- that he was brainwashed by the invading aliens to say that it was, and that those aliens have since been hiding in plain sight, living in squalorous exile inside a factory space in New Jersey. That, to me, could accurately be described as clever. As far as how this and other conceptual elements are handled within the machinations of plot and dialogue… it’s actually all pretty basic. It doesn’t try very hard to be “clever” in those areas, and I think that’s actually something to be thankful for. It’s a romp, light and breezy in its execution, and I see no indication in the film itself that anyone involved thought otherwise. This movie is anything but self-serious.
As for the supposed “incomprehensibility”, I’ve heard this criticism a few times over the years, and I truly don’t get it. I’ve seen incomprehensible films, and I would never count Buckaroo Banzai among them. Granted there is no audience avatar in this movie, no rookie-figure-coming-into-the-fold who can ease us into the fully-formed world we are dropped into. The overall focus is diffuse; things move along quickly and there are many characters and much crosstalk (I can honestly say that Buckaroo Banzai was excellent preparation for my introduction to Altman via Nashville, a few years later… Goldblum and all), but a complete story is in fact communicated to the viewer. Is the way that story is presented, with its unusual rhythms and emphases (or non-emphases), ineptitude in storytelling? I’ve never thought so; I just find it to be a markedly, pleasantly different tack than most mainstream movies, especially genre movies, tend to take. (Having said that… I will concede that the whole Peggy-Penny subplot is not well-presented.)
Man, I don’t know… I think the thing with so many movies that fall under the “cult” umbrella is that their stubbornly peculiar and particular nature seems often to require a set of peculiar, particular variables of predisposition and preparation, arrived at mostly without forethought or intention, for one to be able to enjoy them, let alone be receptive to them. I was in the right frame of mind and mood for this one to strike me like art-lightning when it did, and remain a touchstone for me; my desire to continue talking about it or sharing it derives at least partly from the hope that it might find another receptive first-time viewer, here and there, who will find the same worthwhile fun and richness in it.
And as for that “cult” umbrella (and I’ll say that while it’s sometimes-useful shorthand, it’s never been a term I love, for various reasons), I disagree with your take on the label. For sure, you can say that there exists, in terms of slavish devotion and attention, a “cult” of people into Star Wars or into LoTR, but to my mind that does not afford cult film status. My feeling is that the term represents films which stand apart from most other cinematic experiences for some combination of directorial/writerly vision, aesthetic, technical & artistic limits or advantages, etc, in such a way that they could never possibly have the wide, eminently marketable appeal of a SW or LoTR. Yet, those very same components that preclude widespread popularity are what make these films resonate so strongly with a particularly oriented, small group of people. A cult.
Oh well. You say tomato, I say blood-chilling ululations. Hey, maybe you would have enjoyed it just a wee bit more if you had taken it in at some sort of fun screening event put on by folks who were really into it, rather than just watching at ho-
Oh, wait.
Hugs n’ Kisses,
Michael “Mike” Nordstrom
*At points, the constrained elements of production actually add to the film: the fx shop in charge of the Black and Red Lectroid make-ups had inadequate time and resources for the design and application of the Red Lectroid masks. Those of the Black Lectroids fit the actors’ faces perfectly and move naturally and expressively, while the Red Lectroid masks on Hedaya, Lloyd and Schiavelli are loose and slack-jawed, very mask-like. However, in its on-screen effect, these deficiencies work to neatly underscore the doltish nature of the Red Lectroids!
**A device that screenwriter Earl Mac Rauch lifted nearly wholesale from William Gibson’s novel Neuromancer! Before beginning work on Banzai, Rauch had been tasked with adapting Neuromancer for the screen. The novel features a space colony of (human) Rastas. When the Neuromancer project went South, Rauch put the Lectroid spin on the space Rasta idea and threw it into Banzai.
***Most recently in Guardians of The Galaxy- the bad guy’s scout ships? Straight-up Lectroid style!
For all of you who may not know: Michael “Mike” Nordstrom (whose avatar photo bears a striking resemblance to John Parr; hmm…has anyone ever seen these two great men in the same place at the same time…?) is not only a gentleman, a friend of mine, and an occasional member of my trivia-league team, but a dedicated cinephile and top-notch presenter of movies obscure and wonderful. It was at Mike’s recent event at ArtsRiot in Burlington that I saw BB for the first time in 20+ years; I know that he hopes to present further cinematic oddities in the near future.
He also personally pops the popcorn (and melts the frickin’ butter) at these events. Get out of your easy chairs and go support this man’s work.
I was crossing my fingers that Mike would not see my post on BB, but I guess I underestimated my journalistic reach. (Ha!) I STILL don’t like this movie, and still think that its shortcomings are the products of subpar filmmaking (and/or unwarranted studio cuts) rather than deliberate attempts at … something. (And I do think that the distinction between deliberate and unintentional imperfections matters.) But, even though I’m not inclined to be quite so charitable towards BB, viewing it through a Surrealist/Dada lens is a more potentially rewarding read on this film than is merely noting and celebrating its oddities. In that both of those movements (the former, in particular) were interested in the uncanny results of unexpected juxtapositions, I could see how the oddball, unexplained occurrences in BB might be usefully understood in this context. In fact, maybe that’s the ONLY way to view the film’s disconnected oddities — as far as I can tell, the film offers no other such “glue” (certainly not a coherent narrative, consistent characterizations, or a unified stylistic approach).
Personally, though, I don’t feel that the film benefits from such a scattershot approach. I think there’s a good story and potentially challenging satire (about race, about overreliance on scientific achievement, about popular culture) bubbling under the surface of the film, but it’s never really given a chance to breathe, so disjointed is the overall work.
I love a good Surrealist film, mind you. I have watched and will continue to watch ENTR’ACTE, L’AGE D’OR, THE SEASHELL AND THE CLERGYMAN, and many others, again and again. But, even though I’ll admit that Surrealism might ennoble BUCKAROO a bit, I still think the film misses the mark more often than it hits.
Thanks to everyone for keeping up this lively discussion.
Quite simply – it is plainly obvious that this reviewer simply does not “get it”. This becomes truly clear when he is not capable of “seeing” why Goldblum is in cowboy gear and that it is entirely disclosed and evident as to why.
Buckaroo Banzai has simply gone over his head. End of story – find a new vocation.