Absolut Warhola

I don't want to fall into the rut of watching Canadian made-for-TV films and often-over-praised American feature docs. So I was pleased when I found an intriguing title on the sale table at BMV. I vaguely remembered that Absolut Warhola had played at Hot Docs a few years ago. Plus, it was cheap, and it was European. After yesterday's foray into the Hollywood life of Haskell Wexler, it seemed like just the thing.

So, a rainy Saturday afternoon, and a German film looking into the roots of Andy Warhol. The filmmakers journey to eastern Slovakia in search of Miková, the village where Warhol's parents were born, and the nearby town of Medzilaborce, home of the Andy Warhol (original name: Warhola) museum.

From the opening frames it's clear that the locals know exactly why this German film crew is there. It's not the first time someone's shown up looking for the Warhola connection, and indeed there's really no other reason for Westerners to visit the area. But the locals - adorable kerchief-wearing old ladies; various cousins, aunts and uncles - don't mind. They are quick to pour the slivovic and put on water for tea.

It's also clear right away that this is a film that would never get financed in the current North American filmmaking environment. The tone is whimsical and meandering. There's a sense of discovery, but no real "story" in the North American sense. Just an accumulation of moments that gives the viewer the opportunity to reflect and interpret.

The village, not surprisingly, is caught in a post-communist time warp. No jobs, an uncertain future, and an uneasy relationship to the unfamilar ideas of freedom and democracy. They know all about the Warhol legend, but can't bring themselves to believe that he was a "you-know-what." ("No homosexuals have ever come from Miková.") Warhol's cousin is sure that Valerie Solanas shot Andy because he refused to marry her. She says her family didn't care much for the paintings he once sent them and gave them to the kids to play with.

All this gives some North American viewers the impression that the film is making fun of a bunch of unsophisticated yokels. Certainly some online reviews have said as much. In fact, nothing could be further from the truth. Implicit in that interpretation is the idea that there's something embarrassing about these people's lives and thoughts. There isn't. They are of their time and place. They have a perspective on the world that may be unfamiliar to the fancy people of New York and San Francisco, but there's a directness to them and an honesty that you rarely find among the international intelligentsia. I would happily spend a day drinking tea with a 90-year-old woman with a twinkle in her eye who says, "You aren't alone when you have a TV. The house is full of men!"

Indeed, the only people who come across as buffoonish are the educated ones - the director of the Warhol museum, so proud of the Warhol artifacts provided by his estate (Here's the shirt he was baptised in! And here are his glasses!). He laments that the locals won't pay 10 crowns to come to his museum so they can "contemplate art and find a solution to their problelms." And then he explains why the local Gypsies aren't welcome.

To me, this is the best kind of road movie: open to the world, non-judgmental, presenting people just as they are - eccentric, but completely real and comfortable with themselves.

Sure, it meanders a bit, and at 80 minutes it's probably about 15 minutes too long. But Absolut Warhola left me with a good feeling about the world, and made me wish I could buy a plane ticket tomorrow and tour the villages of Middle Europe.