Stars in the Ordinary Universe & The Mad Writer (Slamdance 2023)(Review)

Following Mad Cats, Starring Jerry as Himself and the Underbug, we return to Slamdance for more coverage of a film festival that celebrates new, emerging and alternative voices within the world of art, film and beyond. Thus far, I have been trying to theme my articles and failing miserably because trying to plan for a festival whose very M.O. is to be more open and inclusive means there’s an awful lot of ground to cover. So today, I stopped trying, and irony upon irony a theme tying together the very different films, Stars in the Ordinary Universe (dir. Bowon Kim) and The Mad Writer (dir. Zach Kashkett).

Stars in the Ordinary Universe is a sci-fi anthology comedy but stating the genre belies how eccentric a film this is. Director & writer Bowon Kim tells three stories of three individuals, not big dramatic stories, even if describing them for what they are might give that impression. Each tale tells of a person having their worldview questioned and finding the right way to live. In the first story, we join a teenage girl watching lectures on her phone of a scientist with a very different stance on natural selection. Fundamentally beautiful people (like him, he says this endlessly) can live life to its full potential, whereas the ugly masses’ sole purpose is to propagate DNA. Harsh. The second story tells of the king of beggars, a homeless man who is finally happy and content despite failing to achieve his dream of becoming the prime minister of Korea. And the last sees a young man plagued by his insistence on telling the truth, as his truths see him beaten up repeatedly. Probably deserving, too, given how bleak, demeaning and nihilistic he is with everyone.

The first story does a great job of setting the deadpan absurdism stall with a simple youtube video throwing her confidence to the extent that she crosses paths with an advice-dolling sentient rock (who can’t swim, so please don’t throw him). There’s also a confessional with a priest who has the quickest crisis of faith – done and resolved in 2 minutes. I’m unsure whether her interactions are less funny and more enjoyably eccentric. A comedy doesn’t need to be funny to be good, just like horror doesn’t need to be scary – there is more than one sole metric to judge success. The second is a complete story which details how a “perfectly adequate” Korean student can end up homeless. Again, very quirky, but it also manages to speak of the harshness of the Korean employment market and the competition forced in their education system. Instead of losing out in life, he comes beggar, where you can get all the delicious Vitamin D you could ever want. The last is the worst by a considerable margin as a smart young man says the worst possible thing to a string of people – where they naturally beat him up, as anyone would with the things he says. I’m not validating bullying or violence on anyone – he is just that horrible to people. For example, he loves his girlfriend for the next year and 9 months when the chemical reaction that is mistaken for love wears off, or an elderly lady should give up collecting rubbish from the street because she’s so close to death, and it is a waste of her meagre time left. But the truth is his curse, and he must speak it, as he says in a mantra post-every beatdown. And as that implies, that final run – despite tying things together – gets very repetitive.

There’s a homemade feeling to Stars in the Ordinary Universe. An ultra-low budget avenue of Korean pop culture that doesn’t get enough play internationally, what with it being smothered into irrelevance by the titans, K-Pop and NetFlix shows. Plus, its quirkiness is innately likeable, and the message it adopts of finding the purpose and the joy in life regardless of the cards that life deals with you makes for a very relatable project. Even with the Everything Everywhere All At Once-style sentient rock hijinx.

The second film today is The Mad Writer. On paper, it couldn’t be any different from Stars in the Ordinary Universe. If you are interested in underground hip-hop, beat tapes, and adult swim, you will have come across the name L’Orange. For those who don’t know, he makes instrumental records which rappers work with, prominent being Kool Keith and Mr Lif. As a journalist says in this Zach Kashkett-directed documentary, L’Orange’s sound is of dusk, the happy hour, and easy-listening jazz and sepia tones. In the mad writer (named after one of his records), Kashkett talks to his friend about his music, health and everything in between with his lifelong friend, whose real name is Austin Hart. Being good friends, there’s a real sarcastic edge to this documentary that regularly threatens to break the format – the closest it gets is some wry fourth wall breaks.

Despite social media seeing our creators as more human than they have ever been, they are still an abstract idea – the director of our favourite film or a musician in our favourite band, they are people after everything else. The Mad Writer, like any good musician documentary, peels bad the facade and fakery of the industry to show Austin, the man behind L’Orange. Perhaps it peels back the veneer too much as this is a hugely intimate and personal documentary, getting into his romantic relationships and a detailed look into his health – issues that strike fear in the heart of any creator. What if the tools I need to do my job are taken from me? It would be wrong to claim he is unphased, as he processes life with a nihilistic sarcasm born from lifelong depression. And as L’Orange says in a closing poke at his director friend, he might be embarrassed watching this back. Even if only when comparing the person he is now with the person he can never be again.

As well as looking at the person behind the art, it looks at the art. In the music world, turntablism has a long history of “real musicians” looking down on it with a sneery elitism – and having a documentary join L’Orange as he creates his music and talks about its genesis is fascinating. Documentaries like Netflix’s hip-hop series are too grand in their scale to get into the intimate details, so when L’Orange is as honest and probably a little too humble about his craft and skills, it furthers that demystification of the musician. The media celebrate rappers, their flow and lyricism, whether Kendrick Lamar or Moodie Black. It has been true since superstar rap groups like NWA & Public Enemy broke through in the late 80s. The buttons, the timing, and the significance of the most insignificant sounds – getting a ringside seat will never fail to be engaging when it is presented with little preciousness and pretentiousness.

The Mad Writer is perhaps too close, observing life-changing conversations that should be private. Seeing him throw up post-surgery is over a line, I feel. As I mentioned earlier, the awkwardness of those conversations helps them subscribe to a common theme. The Mad Writer & Stars in the Ordinary Universe both champion fortitude. Life may give you a shit sandwich, yet humans are incredibly adaptable. We find a way to move on, whether through the ones we love, delicious vitamin D, or we have to learn how to do something anew after losing a limb. Love, life and passion help us find a way.

Rob’s Archive – Stars in the Ordinary Universe & The Mad Writer