Mocking With Class: A Mighty Wind
by: Matthew Ralph

Watching the latest satire from the writing team who brought us the equally rollicking Waiting for Guffman and Best in Show, it's hard not to think of the film Bob Roberts, a political satire that effectively mocked a serious documentary on Bob Dylan.

Starring Tim Robbins as a guitar-slinging presidential hopeful, Bob Roberts has long since been relegated to the $4.99 VHS discount box at the supermarket checkout line, but regardless of its commercial appeal the film shines brighter when one considers its blatant mocking of the quintessential rock-bio piece Don't Look Back.

The connection is intentional. In place of the scene where Joan Baez is at a typewriter absorbing verbal abuse from Bob Dylan in Don't Look Back, a secretary is at a laptop in a campaign trailer as presidential candidate/folk musician Bob Roberts gives critical treatment. The scene would be funny on its own, but the intentional lifting from a much-worshiped film gives it more bite.

A Mighty Wind may or may not be intentionally pulling off the same stunt with Down From the Mountain, a documentary about a concert put on by the group of musicians linked together by T-Bone Burnett, who produced the dusty Southern soundtrack for the Coen Brothers film O Brother, Where Art Thou.

Still, having seen the serious documentary of a concert and subsequent tour that helped resurrect bluegrass and traditional country in the mainstream, it's hard not to chuckle a little heartier at the ridiculousness of this satire on resurrecting a few washed-up folk acts for a reunion tribute.

Picking up right where they left off introducing us to a cast of wacko dog show competitors and a group of midwestern local yocals, the lovable cast of this film introduces us to some zany characters who only get crazier and more over the top as the movie progresses.

There are the New Main Street Singers (played by Jane Lynch, Parker Posey ,John Michael Lynch, David Alan Blasucci, Steve Pandis, Christopher Moynihan, and Patrick Sauber), a watered-down version of the original group that put the "C" in corny and now frequent gazebos at theme parks. They are led by a new age couple who worship colors and a washed up TV show host Mike La Fontaine (Fred Willard), who tries to manage them with the flare he's never quite rekindled from his days hosting TV's "Wha Happened."

Then we have The Folksmen ó Mark Shubb (Harry Shearer), Alan Barrows (Christopher Guest), and Jerry Palter (Michael McKean) ó an earnest three-piece that disbanded after a failed attempt of going electric in the '70s. Finally, there are Mitch & Mickey, a heartwarming duo in both music and life, comprised of Mitch Cohen (Eugene Levy) and Mickey Devlin (Catherine O'Hara). They sang soulful songs of love until the collapse of their relationship sent Mitch off the deep end.

All three groups come together for a special concert performance at New York City's Town Hall to honor Irving Steinbloom, a behind-the-scenes figure of the folk music boom of the late '50s and early '60s, whose death prompts his emotionally damaged children to memorialize him with a gathering of the bands he helped promote.

Hilarity ensues as the film in near VH1-special fashion brings the audience up to date and shows the touchingly strange reunion of Mitch and Mickey. Mitch, last seen in a straight jacket on the cover of his last depressing and violent attempt at a solo record talks like he's still 20 years of therapy away from recovery. The long pauses, the cross-eyed glances and awkward grimaces prompt laughter at every corner, as former lover and musical partner Mickey braces herself as memories of their first meeting in a Greenwich Village club, where Mickey is pummeled sticking up for her, ending up in a full body cast, come trickling back. Meanwhile, Mickey's new husband, a British catheter salesman and model train enthusiast, helplessly tries to relate.

As each of the three groups are profiled, the build-up to the event, much the way it is done in Down From the Mountain, covers the Yiddish-speaking Public Broadcasting Network producer putting together the live television broadcast portion of the show as the ridiculous New Main Street Players manager tries to envision and suggest insane stage antics for his group.

Though somewhat dizzy to try and keep up with all of the jokes and all of the crazy characters that weave their way onto the camera and spew their opinions on folk music and expectations for the concert, in true Christopher Guest style, the audience is spared no expense on laughter.

Still, what's interesting is that amidst all of the wise-cracks and quirkiness that have come to be expected with anything Guest-related that has spun from the This is Spinal Tap family (he, Shearer, and McKean wrote the music for Spinal Tap as well), you find yourself enjoying the music and actually falling, even if for a brief moment, for the romantic stage-moment between the reunited Mitch and Mickey.

Like the movie I said from the beginning this may or may not have used as a model, the concert is enjoyable and worth the price of admission. It's wholesome like Lawrence Welk, squeaky clean like the Disney Channel, but much more entertaining than the latest episode of USA network's Nashville Star.

What makes this movie a hit and a must see, however, is that it follows the path of a serious movie, and even flirts with being serious at points, only to finish back where it started, revealing even crazier things about the characters six months after they've relaunched their careers.

So much for the Saturday Night Live movie jinx. This SNL skit-inspired feature puts the letter "S" in satire and the "W" in wit, leaving the audience in stitches while entertaining them with ear-catching music.

posted 04.20.03

2003 White Elephant Productions