The Cabinet of Dr. Ramirez

This is an unusual movie. I'd recently watched Thief, The (1952), another movie without any spoken dialogue or intertitles. That movie had a clear story that could be followed easily. This one is not so clear. To some extent Cabinet of Dr. Ramirez, The (1991) borrows from Kabinett des Doktor Caligari, Das (1920), but it's hardly a remake; no more so than Dr. Caligari (1989) I think.

There's no spoken dialogue or diegetic sound. The only audio is the musical score, one that reminded me very much of Philip Glass and in particular his three -qatsi scores. Perhaps in consequence, occasionally the picture reminded me of Godfrey Reggio's -qatsi films too; for example, sometimes there were montages of shots of buildings (this movie has more of a story, though). Occasionally the film is completely silent.

Sometimes there are words on the screen; some newspapers are glimpsed, a whole page of a book is seen (the page deals with the "disappeared" and the "Mad Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo" in Argentina), and three business-sized cards with fortunes printed on them are seen. One character in the movie is seen mouthing words directly into the camera, but unfortunately I can't even guess what he might have been saying (if anything).

At the moment, this movie is labeled as a "Comedy" on IMDb. Perhaps it was meant as one, but no comedy was particularly evident to me. "Drama" seems more accurate. "Horror" wouldn't particularly fit; despite the roots in Kabinett des Doktor Caligari, Das (1920) and several deaths, it's not really a horror movie.

Peter Gallagher's character works in an office, seated next to his roommate. He has a relationship with Joan Cusack's character. Their apartments are curiously bare, and they sleep on mattresses on the floor. Their boss is taken away by two people with badges. The city they work in has several peculiar homeless people, who are treated poorly by the police. For the rest, I guess you'll just have to try to see it.

Peter Sellars, a genius who frequently looks back at theatre and opera texts of many centuries past, uses silent filmmaking as an abstract and emotive way of picturing the era just then departed--Reagan's 80s. RAMIREZ may be the most apt and accurate rendering of that time on film.

My review was written in May 1991 after a screening in the Directors Fortnight of the Cannes Film Festival.

Legit director Peter Sellars' debut film is a pretentious silent feature that resembles a student film out of control. Tedious, often cryptic effort was shot using the old Academy 1.33:1 aspect ratio, making it suitable for public tv.

Using static camera throughout, Sellars begins fairly coherently with morose stockbroker Peter Gallagher witnessing his black co-worker and roommate Gregory Wallace gorily murdered at work by a disgruntled old guy. In a separate incident straight out of "Wall Street", their boss is taken away by undercover agents in handcuffs.

Gallagher's estranged girlfriend Joan Cusack has a weird, traumatic encounter on the street with homeless derelict Mikhail Baryshnikov. She's soon having romantic nightmares about him that seem to come true, climaxing in her falling (apparently fatally) from a bridge.

Baryshnikov is under the power of another derelict, mysterious Ron Vawter, who looks like Italian star Gian Maria Volonte but has a snake-like scar down the middle of his face. Confusing later footage shows Baryshnikov apparently plummeting to his death (and possibly becoming re-animated by Vawter).

Coda resembles a stupid lift form "The Wizard of Oz', as major and minor characters (like cops and the undercover agents) reappear in dual roles at a clinic run by Vawter (sans scar). Baryshinkov and Cuasack's best friend Kate Valk are orderlies there; Cusack and Gallagher are patients.

Sellars finally turns off the music score for a boring 360-degree shot that ends the film on Gallagher, possibly implying that he imagined the whole thing.

Displaying little command of film technique, Sellars fails to organize his material in the rigorous fashion needed to convey information in a silent format. Confusing crosscutting in the middle reels destroys continuity and has scenes contradicting each other.

Though the static compositions are classical, occasional use of skip-frame, time-lapse editing within a shot disrupts the viewer's concentration. Using business card to make doggerel pronouncements (Wallace receives a "You have one day to live" message that comes true) is ridiculous.

John Adams' bombastic symphonic music is the dominant contrast throughout. It veers from the traditional romanticism of a Miklos Rozsa or Bronislau Kaper to the noisy lower-register blasts of John Corigliano's "Altered States" score whenever a horror scene is intended.

David Watkin's visuals are mainly mundane looking like a well-shot 16mm student short. Occasionally romantic tableaux of Cusack clash with the unflattering, no-makeup close-ups she gets.

Despite his top billing, Baryshnikov has little to do in an ill-conceived role that pays homage to the somnambulist of Wiene's classic. Gallagher, often on the phone and looking like he stepped off the set of "Sex, Lies and Videotape", does a decnet job when not encouraged to overact, but Cusack's silent hysteria holds no threat to the memory of classic divas.

David Lynch was listed as the pic's execuitve producer during production, but his name does not appear in the final credits.

This is the most recent favorite example of a genre I love: coordinated film and score. Others that have moved me a great deal in the past are Fantasia (1940) out of Walt Disney and Alexander Nevsky (1938).I saw The Cabinet of Doctor Ramirez (1991) on PBS TV and loved it instantly. Fortunately, I recorded it onto VHS tape (for my own private viewing), because the film was (as I understand) never released in the USA and I have since failed to find any copy for sale.

The film was conceived principally by Peter Sellars (his first film project, I believe). The sound track is entirely made from the three parts of John Coolidge Adams orchestral work Harmonielehre, with two interpolations of Tibetan Buddhist monk chants and instruments. Obviously the film layout is timed to match the sections of the music. In a certain sense, it is the film that accompanies the music. I think it is all brilliant. Recently I have acquired a CD that includes the Harmonielehre work, and that reminded me to search again for a DVD or VHS copy of the complete film and its sound track. I will keep looking.

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music sequence:

Harmonielehre (Harmony Study) parts 1 2 3

chants and instrumental C

1 2 C 1 2 C 3

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I saw the film in 1992 at one of its few screening. It left a powerful impression. It is brilliantly acted and beautifully shot. Joan Cusack proves that she is one of America's most underrated actresses. And I keep wondering why Peter Gallagher isn't doing something better... ah well.