Since the beginning of film we’ve generally had two distinct types of films: documentaries and narratives. However, with the rise of “reality” television and documentary directors like Michael Moore it has become increasingly clear that “documentaries” are often as manipulated as narrative films are. That brings us to a film like Colossus, which blurs the line between the two types so much that it’s difficult to determine what parts are real and what parts are, well, “real.”
Colossus is about self-proclaimed “master manipulator” Mark Hendrickson AKA Clark Larson (played by actor Mark Hendrickson, who also wrote and directed the film) who decides to go out with his greatest scheme ever — creating Colossus, the “greatest artificial rock band in Russian history.” However, Hendrickson isn’t exactly what he seems to be, and his exact plan regarding Colossus is not exactly clear, even to the band members he recruits and the documentary crew filming the entire enterprise. By the end of the film it still isn’t clear what Hendrickson was out to achieve — but it’s clear that we’ve all been had in some way.
Though this movie blurs the line between narrative and documentary, the opening news report about Hendrickson’s death makes it clear that this isn’t an actual documentary (after all, Hendrickson is alive and well). Of course, the fact that Hendrickson and his muscle commit some on-camera felonies makes it even clearer that this isn’t actual events being filmed. When the project inevitably hits hardships — like any episode of Behind the Music — one is left to wonder how much of it is going along to Hendrickson’s plan — indeed, also how much any of it went along with the movie’s narrative plotted by Hendrickson (the writer/director).
One of the most confusing aspects of Colossus is just what exactly an “artificial band” is. Nobody involved in making the documentary seems to know what being an artificial band really means (isn’t every band to some degree “artificial?”), and when Hendrickson FINALLY defines it about an hour into the film, he says it’s a band that was created for a mini-series. So, they’re the Russian Monkees? That seems true, but Hendrickson keeps claiming that what they’re doing has never been done before… which clearly isn’t true, because, well, The Monkees and dozens of other bands that were formed by corporate interests. Hendrickson’s goals aren’t exactly clear, and though manipulation and deceit are major themes of the movie, the question that is front and center the whole time is what the heck Hendrickson (both the character and the real-life writer/director) is trying to accomplish with all this.
That leads to some narrative and logical flaws with the film itself, especially with the Hendrickson character. For such a self-proclaimed master manipulator, Hendrickson makes a lot of bonehead moves. Why is he relying on a drug addict as his main songwriter? Why is he even doing this in Russia if he’s not familiar with the music industry there? Why is he involving the Russian mafia if every single thing that ever involves the Russian mafia in real-life and fiction turns out horribly? But most of all, what exactly is his endgame? The film ends with a curious twist, but I’m unsure why Hendrickson as a character would have gone through all this for that payoff. The best comparison I could make to the process is a Rube Goldberg machine — a ridiculously complicated machine to accomplish a task that could have been done much more simply.
Which brings me to the ultimate flaw with Colossus — despite it being a fascinating exercise in storytelling, the major issue is that Colossus is just too long. This 2 hour 15 minute movie could use some serious trimming. There’s an entire subplot about making a meat sculpture that meanders and never actually pays off. There is an even shorter bit involving a Russian form of martial arts which also doesn’t go anywhere. There are reasons why most real-life music documentaries aren’t two hours long, and even the Spinal Tap gang was wise enough to keep their supremely entertaining mockumentary under ninety minutes even though they shot hours of footage. Some of the various gimmicks are funny (filming a music video at an ostrich farm) and the in-band and film set drama is intriguing, but everything seems drawn out. A really good editor could have strengthened this film by slicing at least a half hour out of this without losing anything major by just tightening the scenes.
So what exactly is Colossus? That’s not easy to answer. On one hand it’s essentially This Is Spinal Tap without the uproarious humor, Anvil! The Story of Anvil without the real-life drama, and Behind the Music without the well-known subjects. On the other, it’s a movie that breaks new ground in storytelling in a way that I haven’t seen before, which is incredibly impressive. Because of that I have to recommend the film, but I still think there is a much better film within these 2.25 hours that is trying to get out. Hopefully someone takes a crack at finding it before it gets a wider release.
Rating: A perplexing film with a fascinating structure that nonetheless doesn’t reach it’s huge potential (4/10).
Colossus opened at New York’s Quad Cinema on Friday, July 19. For more information, visit the film’s website here.
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