Plagued with an overabundance of interesting ideas and characters, “Bad Attitude: The Art of Spain Rodriguez” explores several fascinating topics, ultimately finding itself bottlenecked by them. Ostensibly the story of one artist’s personal and professional journey, the documentary branches out to grapple with ideas related to 60s counterculture, civil rights, chauvinism, the underground press, and difficult questions about art and legacy. Hobbled by a loving yet skewed perspective that admirably attempts to confront some of the more challenging contradictions that arise, the effort never quite overcomes the handicap of its own built-in biases.
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As far as documentaries go, “Bad Attitude” at least benefits from being easy to digest. Starting with an impressive collection of artistic talking heads that include R. Crumb, Ed Piskor, Gary Groth, Trina Robbins, and others, it kicks off with a broad discussion of cartoonist and activist Spain Rodriguez, whose work in the 1960s and beyond helped revolutionize a small corner of the comics world. Following his growth from a disaffected art school student to motorcycle club brawler to New York and then San Francisco artist, it tracks Spain’s evolution as not just a sketcher but a social radical and provocateur.
Directed and narrated by Spain’s widow, Susan Stern, the documentary has a noticeable slant in its sympathies, yet it is hardly a puff piece. Spain’s art never pulled punches, and early on in “Bad Attitude,” it becomes clear that the uglier portions of the artist’s life are up for discussion as well. The best bits of the documentary are the ones that grapple with the curious contradictions in not just Spain’s work but his life, questioning how such a fierce champion for social equality could sometimes produce work seemingly in opposition to just that.
Had “Bad Attitude” stuck to this challenging yet fascinating paradox, it might have gotten to the heart of who Spain Rodriguez was, or at the very least, how art grows and evolves on the back of tragedy, triumph, and social/personal upheaval. Unfortunately for Stern, her documentary never quite gets there, in part because a different discussion about other artists and the fight against obscenity in print hijacks the piece at around the halfway point (and proves to be a far more interesting and dynamic topic).
Socially conscious comics that dealt with “obscene” topics hit a rough patch in the 70s once they had been made the scapegoat of moral decline in America’s youth. While Superman and Spiderman went squeaky clean to remain on the shelves, Spain, Crumb, and their contemporaries were pushing the envelope with their art and living up to the period’s radical ideals. With Spain as a component rather than the central figure of the bigger picture, this story is the most interesting one in the doc, especially considering the comic book world’s near-monopoly on the 21st-century’ pop-culture zeitgeist.
How Spain and his colleagues pushed, challenged, or maybe even presented no real influence on a comic book industry that would eventually dominate the majority of all big-budget movie storytelling would be an interesting subject to investigate. Yet, it remains unexplored in “Bad Attitude.” Returning to more of a biographical footing in its final portion, the documentary refocuses on Spain and how he and his family view his legacy within the broader comics landscape. And this is indeed important, for in looking back and even at the film itself, Stern has to grapple with her own biases and what might appear on the face of things to be a cinematic apologia.
Had “Bad Attitude” transcended one man’s story to speak about the ways the different branches of art communicate, inspire, or act in defiance of one another as a living expression of social change and struggle, it might have really gotten to the heart of something special. As it stands, Stern’s piece wrestles with personal responsibility, Spain’s legacy within a larger artistic community, and one family’s struggle to contextualize the art and the artist within the period where they flourished. It is interesting on its own, but it never entirely extends itself to connect to the larger conversation it seems to be reaching towards.
Even so, Stern does a great job assembling decades worth of art with fresh animations and scene transitions to keep the viewer invested and captivated. Spain Rodriguez’s art finds a welcome and trusting pair of hands in Stern, who weaves a tale that is equal parts visual and emotional. With just a bit more work, and less emphasis on Spain himself, the documentary might have touched on more than just one man, which if one takes the word of those presented in “Bad Attitude” was always the point. [C+]
“Bad Attitude: The Art of Spain Rodriguez” is currently playing at the DOC NYC Film Festival.
