Chris Jordan wants to feel you from the inside.
 |
| "My name is Trent and I'm very angry." |
1992: after an ugly battle with an
unscrupulous record label, Trent Reznor finally broke free of the contract that
had prevented him from releasing any new Nine Inch Nails material since 1989's Pretty Hate Machine. His former label
had, in no uncertain terms, tried to derail his career to punish his resistance
to their strong-arm manipulation, and while Reznor found new artistic freedom
at Interscope, the ordeal had taken a major emotional toll. Now that he had a
new outlet for his music, all the anger, bitterness, depression, and
disillusionment that had been building up inside him during the last couple
years took form, becoming Nine Inch Nails' landmark EP, Broken. A furious half-hour album described by Reznor as “an
ultra-fast chunk of death,” it alternates between moody instrumentals and
lyrics exploring themes of dependency, psychological control, and emotional
brokenness, clearly reflecting the dark place in which he had found himself.
Then in 1993, Broken re-emerged with
even greater fury as a short film adaptation: an ultraviolent, Faces of Death-ish long-form music video
that lived up to – and surpassed – Reznor's “ultra-fast chunk of death”
descriptor.
The
Broken Movie, as it is usually
known, became the stuff of legend immediately upon its release. Or rather, its
lack of release: the story of how it found its way to its fans is as
fascinating as the content itself, and a huge part of its mythological stature.
According to Reznor, Interscope was so shocked and horrified by the film's
gruelingly violent content that they refused to release it, fearing a massive
backlash. But that didn't stop it: a bootleg tape was leaked by someone close
to the band, and it spread across the music scene like an urban legend. It was
a literal viral video, in a physical, analogue sense: fans would hook up two
VCRs and make tape copies for other fans, and those people would make more
copies, and so on. It was like the tape from The Ring: you get a shady homemade copy and watch it, then you make
someone else a copy and keep the circle expanding, or in seven days Trent will
crawl out of your TV in his leather and fishnets and say “what the hell, you're
not going to share this thing? Don't your friends like good music?” Interscope
Records could never have marketed such a phenomenon even if they had released
it.
But there's probably more to the story than
all that. In retrospect, it all makes a huge amount of sense within the larger
context of Reznor's career. It was always assumed by fans that Reznor himself
was behind the leak – after all, surely he would want his film to be seen by
any means necessary after the label allegedly buried it – but after years of
his savvy experimentation with music distribution platforms, it's hard not to
see The Broken Movie as his first
experiment. It's totally possible that Interscope really did refuse to give an
official VHS release to this ultra-fast cinematic chunk of death, but
regardless of what happened in their offices, it's almost certain that Reznor
seized the opportunity to do something really unique. Through anonymous
underground channels, he effectively shook up industry distribution methods and
conducted a cultural experiment to see what would happen if you just released a
film into the wild and let it spread like an idea rather than a commodity. In a
way, it's like an analogue equivalent to his later release of The Slip as a free-to-download album,
only wrapped in the urban legend allure of a forbidden snuff film. Of course he
would never admit if this was true or not (anything he's ever said about the
leakage of the film has been tantalizingly vague), but it's undeniable that the
way in which The Broken Movie was
released (or wasn't) amplified and added to its grim narrative. The release WAS
part of the story, and it turned the viewer into a character in the film; a
guilty party taking voyeuristic pleasure in watching a serial killer's illicit
snuff tape. We may never know if it was ever seriously considered for a
mainstream VHS release or not, but if it had been, this fascinating
meta-narrative would have been lost, and the film's power would have been
diminished. It's definitely for the best that it was released the way it was.
 |
| "Wowza!! I didn't know you were into this stuff." |
But what about the film itself; does it
live up to this one-of-a-kind behind-the-scenes story? Pretty much, yes. It's a
nonlinear nightmare on film, told as three overlapping threads: the
investigation into the grisly crimes of a serial killer, the killer's
blood-soaked home movies, and the Nine Inch Nails music videos that the killer
plays on his TV as background music for his murders. There's no real story, and
there doesn't seem to be any deeper themes or meanings; the deeper theme is the
lack of meaning. It reflects the nihilistic hopelessness and anger in the
album's lyrics, and the dark emotions Reznor was feeling when he wrote them.
It's all about mood and emotion: a harrowing enhancement of the album's
journey. It's a rough experience, but that's exactly what it's supposed to be.
The different styles within the film
deliberately contrast one another to enhance the jarring effect of it all. The
present-day footage and the music videos are extremely well-shot – on film –
with very cinematic black and white (or in one case, desaturated color)
cinematography. The home movie of the killer, on the other hand, is a
deliberately worn and distorted VHS camcorder image: shaky found-footage with
bleeding too-bright colors and VCR damage. The gore on the home movie segments
is made all the more real-looking by the deliberately poor quality, while the
grim images on the black and white film achieve more of a haunting quality
somewhere between a horror movie and Eraserhead.
The film contains the music videos for “Wish” and “Happiness in Slavery,” which
were also released on their own, but are given even more eerie power within
this context. Both are excellent, now-classic music videos. Wish's concert
performance in a cage acts as a reflection of Reznor's state of mind during his
conflict with his label, and also captures the raw fury of the band's early
live shows. The grande guignol Happiness In Slavery video reflects these same
themes through a grueling metaphor for labels chewing up and spitting out
disposable artists who nonetheless enter the trap willingly. The film also
contains new music videos for the album's instrumentals: haunting mood pieces
that perfectly enhance the songs. All throughout, the killer's home movies give
them a brutal context of despair.
If the film has an obvious flaw, it's that
it is rather dependent on external context for much of its power. For it to
really be good, you need to know the background of Reznor's artistic struggle
and state of mind when the album was written, and also the meta-narrative of
its underground release. It isn't really a standalone film, then, but an
interactive art piece that is the centerpiece of a real-life story. With that
knowledge, it has a creepy emotional resonance. Without it, it's basically just
some great music videos wrapped up in an intensely brutal package. Its
brutality definitely packs a punch; although in this post-Hostel era, the gore honestly doesn't seem as nasty as it would
have been 22 years ago. I would argue, though, that it certainly is much more
artistically meaningful than Hostel in the larger context of what the
film means.
 |
| "I'm not really sure what's going on here but it must be pure evil." |
Its underground VHS release is not where
the strange tale of The Broken Movie's
distribution ends – with the age of DVD it reared its ugly head again, with
equally sordid results. Interscope very nearly released the film on an official
DVD, along with the Downward Spiral-era
concert film/tour documentary Closure,
but wound up pulling the plug on both releases. Trent Reznor, being the master
of alternative release platforms that he is, naturally didn't let that stop
him. He posted torrents of the full ISO files of both DVDs (anonymously, of
course) around Christmas 2006, accompanied by the cryptic blog message “Happy
Holidays! This one is a guilt-free download. (shhhh - I didn't say that out
loud). If you know what I'm talking about, cool." The torrented DVD looks
great: for the first time, the washed-out copy-of-a-copy-of-a VHS quality was
replaced by a pristine remaster. But the story still doesn't end there. The
film finally, briefly, saw an official Interscope-endorsed release when Reznor
posted it on the Nine Inch Nails Vimeo channel in 2013 – but it was promptly
pulled for explicit content. Again, however, he wrote a blog post
not-so-subtlely directing people to his torrent: “This just wasn’t meant for
the masses,” he wrote. “There is, however, a certain broad inlet of the sea
where the land curves inward, inhabited by people who attack and rob ships at
sea, where this video can be downloaded in high quality.” Who ever said Trent
doesn't have a great sense of humor?
One could make a strong argument that the torrent is indeed
an official release, distributed and supported by the artist, if not the label.
But nonetheless, since it isn't available through official, strictly-legal
channels, it remains in that nebulous category of Unreleased but Viewable. In addition
to the torrent it can still be found streaming online; occasionally on YouTube
or Vimeo when someone briefly posts it (it will always get pulled for explicit
content), but usually on more unregulated video sites. But it's out there; you
can find it easily with a quick search. And if you're a Nine Inch Nails fan –
or just someone interested in this bizarre story from cinema's underground –
you definitely should.
Score
-Christopher S. Jordan
Trent says share this review or he'll f#@! you like an animal.
