To all four of you readers who frequent this blog to see if I am giving something away (I am not). I have recently begun reviewing things on Amazon. In the past, it made me shudder to think about publishing unpolished content anywhere, let alone on my blog, but I frankly no longer care. You know I can write better than this, and so do I. This is me, sitting down and hammering out a review in 10 minutes, and meaning every word (except for the typos). Expect more of these. That is all.
Also, if you buy the film from my site, Amazon pays me. So you should really do that.
Film: “Off the Charts – The Song-Poem Story” (Dir. by Jamie Meltzer) ***** (out of 5)
Really and truly, don’t bother renting this film. You will be doing yourself a horrendous disservice.
Buy it and watch it, and then watch it at least 7 more times over the course of the next year. That’s what I did after first seeing Off the Charts as a streamable Netflix film last April.
I have since screened it for friends and family, all of whom have sat through it stunned and stupefied. Think Christopher Guest, but in association with the term “documentary” instead of “mockumentary.” Think of every friend who has ever shown you an original poem and said, “I put my whole heart into this,” only to find, upon reading it, that your friend’s heart is actually a landfill for all the poetic garbage in the world. Your friend’s heart, in fact, is the poetic equivalent of the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.
This film is where all the insanely bad, yet insanely (brilliantly?) quotable songs go to die (live?).
Off the Charts is only an hour long, but there are extras on the DVD. Those extras most definitely justify buying the DVD, as opposed to simply streaming it online.
Buy this film for yourself. And for the love of all that is holy, buy it for everyone you know who writes dreadful poetry. Put a big “Hint Hint: This is You!” sticker on the outside of the box, and don’t hide your glee. After weeping inconsolably for 40 days and nights without properly hydrating and being hospitalized with an IV to maintain his/her body’s fluid levels, your friend will thank you for the sublime wake-up call (and go right on writing criminally bad poetry).
How’s that for an endorsement?