I have a soft spot for Variety, mainly because I associate it with Working Girls, Lizzie Borden's groundbreaking 1986 sex-drama that easily places in my Top 100 list of all time. The projects share a lot of the same sensibilities, some of the same cast and crew, and an authentic NYC downtown vibe that's almost documentary in its rendering. The dialog is whip-smart, the acting relatively free from affectation, and the characters non-airbrushed and compelling.
The premise for Variety is quite ambitious and even daunting. Christine (portrayed with a visceral honesty by Sandy McLeod) is a somewhat sheltered, vaguely aimless young woman trying to make her mark in NYC. It's unclear how, only that a lot of her friends are artists --- Nan Goldin, for one, who gets her a job as a ticket taker at the very real (at the time) Variety Photoplay porn theater. For the first third of the film, McLeod breaks our heart and keeps our attention, even when doing something as seemingly mundane as pacing around her dump of an apartment, chain-smoking and listening to the messages on her PhoneMate. Her admitted lack of a center or any real goal sucks her into this job, at first intriguing her, then obsessing her to the point where it threatens to devour, rather than fill her time. She becomes attenuated to every sexual nuance, a one-woman erotic red-alert sensor that both frees her and imprisons her.
This obsession is embodied in her fascination with one of the theater's patrons, the slightly smarmy Louie, a low-level Mafia type played by Richard Davidson, who portrayed a similar character in Working Girls. Unfortunately, Variety loses a lot of people at this point.
The second third of the film, and a good part of the last third, consist of Christine stalking Louie around New York, as his whereabouts seem to coincide with info that her reporter boyfriend (a very young Will Patton) has disclosed to her. I've heard Variety referred to as an anti-noir in these segments, since it almost turns itself into a neon-drenched mini-mystery here. Unfortunately it's a bit too heavy on the Anti: for about 30-35 minutes of the film, not much "happens" on-screen. It's virtually nothing but tracking shots of Christine following Louie. And following. And following. While the photography is always interesting and sometimes quite beautiful to watch, it's off-putting and will try many people's patience. Add to that the stiff narratives Christine spouts, trance-like, to her boyfriend, that read a bit too much like screenwriter Kathy Acker's erotic play-by-plays (at their most self-conscious), and Variety is guaranteed to lose all but the most hardcore art crowd.
I really get what Gordon was after here, feminism-wise, and I think it showed great daring to do so without portraying Christine as a little-girl-victim. I just wish it gave us something a bit more to chew on regarding Christine's spiral and her journey through it.
The premise for Variety is quite ambitious and even daunting. Christine (portrayed with a visceral honesty by Sandy McLeod) is a somewhat sheltered, vaguely aimless young woman trying to make her mark in NYC. It's unclear how, only that a lot of her friends are artists --- Nan Goldin, for one, who gets her a job as a ticket taker at the very real (at the time) Variety Photoplay porn theater. For the first third of the film, McLeod breaks our heart and keeps our attention, even when doing something as seemingly mundane as pacing around her dump of an apartment, chain-smoking and listening to the messages on her PhoneMate. Her admitted lack of a center or any real goal sucks her into this job, at first intriguing her, then obsessing her to the point where it threatens to devour, rather than fill her time. She becomes attenuated to every sexual nuance, a one-woman erotic red-alert sensor that both frees her and imprisons her.
This obsession is embodied in her fascination with one of the theater's patrons, the slightly smarmy Louie, a low-level Mafia type played by Richard Davidson, who portrayed a similar character in Working Girls. Unfortunately, Variety loses a lot of people at this point.
The second third of the film, and a good part of the last third, consist of Christine stalking Louie around New York, as his whereabouts seem to coincide with info that her reporter boyfriend (a very young Will Patton) has disclosed to her. I've heard Variety referred to as an anti-noir in these segments, since it almost turns itself into a neon-drenched mini-mystery here. Unfortunately it's a bit too heavy on the Anti: for about 30-35 minutes of the film, not much "happens" on-screen. It's virtually nothing but tracking shots of Christine following Louie. And following. And following. While the photography is always interesting and sometimes quite beautiful to watch, it's off-putting and will try many people's patience. Add to that the stiff narratives Christine spouts, trance-like, to her boyfriend, that read a bit too much like screenwriter Kathy Acker's erotic play-by-plays (at their most self-conscious), and Variety is guaranteed to lose all but the most hardcore art crowd.
I really get what Gordon was after here, feminism-wise, and I think it showed great daring to do so without portraying Christine as a little-girl-victim. I just wish it gave us something a bit more to chew on regarding Christine's spiral and her journey through it.