For a certain type of cinephile versed in the avant-garde, the name Jonas Mekas brings to mind a particular type of autobiographical filmmaking — one that prioritized the immediacy of a given moment over context or sometimes even narrative coherence. He was an Immensely prolific filmmaker, critic, archivist, and poet who, in his own words, immigrated to the US in the late ’40s “hungry, thirsty for art,” taking in everything he could.
While not exactly forgotten, Mekas’ work as the “Film Culture” founder, Village Voice critic, historian, and champion of such directors as Kenneth Anger and Ken Jacobs, has often overshadowed his prolific film work. He was someone who straddled the line between critic and artist, academic and enthusiast.
READ MORE: Venice Film Festival Preview: 16 Must-See Films To Watch
Cobbled together from home movies, archival footage, and interviews with contemporaries and fans alike, KD Davison’s “Fragments of Paradise” illuminates the multi-hyphenate artist, often allowing Mekas’ obsessive need to document his life to speak for itself. It’s a wonder of a documentary for the cinema-loving, but also, oddly, a bit conventional. Instead of taking inspiration from Mekas’ memoiristic approach to film — or even fully embracing the fragmentary nature that its title alludes to — Davison creates a more-or-less standardized, hagiographic portrait of Mekas.
This isn’t to say that “Fragments of Paradise” is unsuccessful in its approach. In fact, quite the opposite is true. For those who have never heard of the so-called “godfather of American avant-garde cinema,” Davison culls and curates an astonishing amount of archival material into a neatly packaged biography of the artist that explores his early life in Lithuania, his various projects in America, his relationship with his brother — and “Film Culture” co-founder — Adolfas, and even his late-life transition to poetry. We hear from filmmakers, ex-wives, fans, and even his own children, as they construct a portrait of a man singularly obsessed with the possibility of film.
Even for those who are well versed with, say, “Guns of the Trees” or “The Brig,” it’s always exciting to hear fellow filmmakers — Peter Bogdanovich, Martin Scorcese, Jim Jarmusch, John Waters, etc. — talk about their relationship to Mekas and his work. But, more than the talking heads or even clips from his films, “Fragments” really comes alive when foregrounding Mekas’ own home videos.
He was someone who obsessively filmed almost everything, and Davison relishes the opportunity to showcase a truly astonishing amount of Mekas’ own footage. His life was filtered through the camera, and even with footage of his run-ins with John Lennon, Yoko Ono, and Allan Ginsburg, it’s most fascinating to see him write his column, begin the Film-Maker’s cooperative, and construct the Anthology Film Archive in NYC. These acts of restoration and preservation highlight a dedication to the act of creating and embracing film, and “Fragments” even dives into Mekas’ own run-ins with censorship during the height of underground cinema in the ’60s.
Often the nostalgia that “Fragments of Paradise” presents feels a bit too conventional in its approach to a figure who rejected cohesion and prioritized what he called “instantaneous reaction” in his own work. However, Davison’s film is still a captivating overview of Mekas and his work, as well as an invitation to explore more of his films and writings. [B]
Follow along with all our coverage of the 2022 Venice Film Festival.