Sundance 2015: "Sam Klemke's Time Machine"

Boyhood was, by a long shot, not only one of my favorite films of Sundance 2014, but of anything I'd ever seen. Imagine my curiosity, then, when I learned that a documentary, marketed as a glimpse into a man's life over thirty-five years, was coming to this year's festival.

Let's get you up to speed. This film was made because of the following Youtube video:

Matthew Bate, director and Sundance veteran, was intrigued by the above. He asked Klemke to send over the rest of his archives to produce a documentary.  As the story goes, Klemke more than delivered.  Turns out he has an entire room full of old tapes and was happy that someone had finally come along willing to edit his life into a digestible form.

Now, one cannot write a review on Time Machine without referencing Boyhood, but about halfway through this film it became clear that these pieces are quite distinctive from one  another.

Boyhood provides a narrative whose underpinnings center upon family, and appreciation for the meaning and impact of life's smaller moments.  Sam Klemke's TIme Machine is not really about relationships. Klemke's thesis is, essentially: we live in an age where we are able to fine tune the projection of our selves better than ever --- let's appreciate a dude who is, rather literally, letting it all hang out.  

The project starts off with Klemke's charming optimism (in his 70's-newscaster-voice at the ripe age of 19), but it isn't long before we find him in bed back at his parents' house, forty lbs. heavier, downing nachos and admitting that his life is pretty much a huge mess.

I don't want to ruin the experience for anyone, and, more importantly, I feel curiously protective of a man who willingly handed over a video diary of his entire adulthood to someone to edit how they choose. But I think it's fair to say the following: one could come away from this thinking Klemke is a loser who never really did get it together. At certain points I thought, "I don't know if I like the life this man is living." I felt guilty for feeling that way.

Klemke in 1997

It's almost hard not to. We witness Klemke's painful admissions, failed speed-laced weight loss attempts, struggles with prostitution, and, for reasons that escape me, insistence on roadside urination into a designated pee bucket. I don't remember how many times he moved back in with his parents.  Almost disturbingly, after we think Klemke has finally left behind some of his less savory habits starting around 1995, we then watch him... let's just say, revert. A five-minute celebration of weight loss and love is ultimately met with what I believe was an affair (I would need to see it again to gain clarity there --- I may be incorrect). While Oregon and the Love of His Life seemed to be the answer to all of his problems, time reveals, at risk of all cliche, where ever you go, Sam Klemke, there you are.

Blessedly, what Bate also uncovers, and the reason why festival-goers and Bate alike seem to adore Klemke, is his unwavering, honest introspection, humor, and optimism. The entire theater erupted in laughter when, upon his viewing an early cut of the film (what we had all viewed up to that point), Klemke remarks, "Oh my God, shut the fuck up!"

Running parallel to Klemke's story is Bate's own interpretation of Voyager's Golden Record (well worth reading up on), which contained sounds and images to represent Earth to any extraterrestrials or future humans who may have stumbled upon them.  Let's hope said Alien will keep their Technics handy.

Bate's poetic retelling of Voyager, like Klemke, trods on through the 80's, 90's, and early 2000's. I'd be lying if I said I welcomed each Voyager sequence with open ears. But it was an effective way to add space between the Klemke years and allow for reflection, so I can't knock it too much.

Through the Voyager story, Bate will tell you, that in this age of brilliantly executed selfies, he finds Klemke heroic. Here's a guy who isn't afraid to tell you he has a prostitute problem. While the curators of the Golden Record saw fit to censor the human body, Klemke has no problem walking into his living room, presenting his erect penis, and throwing out his hands.  As a woman, I might say, maybe that's not too rare a trait in men. Bate called this a "dance." I'd call it more of a, "Well, here it is."

Bate, in arguing that Klemke is a hapless but adorable everyman deserving of our love, may have had too much material on the hapless, and not the adorable, parts, to work with.

I am not saying Bate went out of his way to illustrate all the ways in which Klemke may have, shall we say, missed some opportunities in his life. Klemke, thank God, put his life's archives in the hands of a man who seems to have a sense of empathy and appreciation for Klemke's honesty.  But, let's put this in its context. It is not clear whether Klemke ever thought a large audience may have found this footage. It's a video diary to "stimulate growth and improvement year to year." Youtube and viral videos were not around when this project began. 

In '85, he does answer a hypothetical question of why he was recording his life in the first place. Imagining an audience response, Klemke smiled, "Well, there's a guy who died, but he chronicled his life. Why did he do it? Only the shadow knows."  His response, "I'm fascinated with time."

When you write in your diary, how much do you speak of your successes? Speaking for myself, my accomplishments go on my resume, but aren't a regular part of my thinking. If I'm honest, someone stumbling upon my diary would probably think I'm a mess, and, in the spirit of honesty, an entitled turd. I talk about my health, my jealousies. The men and jobs that don't work out. And, yeah, having kept a diary for many years of my life, I'd say it can get awfully repetitive.  It's a diary! 

Are we that surprised, then, that Klemke, at one point living in a van with his own urine containers, might appear to be a loser? What motivation did he have to dress up his life in the first place, if only to keep a diary for himself?

There are quick points to make that did bother me. A woman who was told she wasn't being filmed nakedly discusses life with Klemke, and is later revealed to have passed away. If anyone involved in the film reads this, I certainly hope you reached out to the woman's estate to get the rights to use her likeness. Also, it seems reasonable to say that Klemke struggled with depression throughout much of his life. Some of the behaviors included in the film fit the bill for being atypical and maladaptive (see: sitting in a bed surrounded by years worth of boxes every night and eating nachos). Klemke himself admits to going on antidepressants. With that in mind, I felt less comfortable watching the years in which Klemke's life seemed to unravel. No doubt, we are getting to know a very intelligent and good natured man. But there were many times that a mental health diagnosis would not have surprised me at all. If Klemke were depressed, then, of course he would share with himself, and potential audiences, everything that was going wrong with him.  What's more, critics quick to point out that Boyhood centered on change, while Klemke is the opposite, ought to remind themselves of the difference between childhood and adulthood.  Adults change, sure, but certainly not as rapidly as children.  (Of course, it was chilling to see how quickly Klemke's 30's flew by).

Yes, Klemke has had ups and downs, and sometimes the outlook is bleak.  But if this is a time capsule to show a representation of humanity, Bate chose a subject that doesn't make this chronic critic cringe.

He speaks eloquently on his failures and attempts toward "greatness."  Around his early 30's, he remarks that life is not about accumulation of wealth, but rather, how one lives his life.  Klemke followed through on that one. He builds himself a self-sustaining caricature business. Reviews thus far have all remarked on his nudity, but none on the improvement of his craft.  He's good at what he does! I am sure a man as reflective as Klemke does not fail to see the significance of the fact that a man capable of such introspection is good at seeing the remarkable features in others. Not to mention the fact that he did actually follow up on his plan to film his entire life. 

When Klemke sits Indian style on a bed and says he isn't proud of certain actions, I believe him.

And, as one audience member pointed out at the premiere, what we never see, in thirty-five freaking years worth of footage, is Klemke projecting hostility towards anyone or anything except for himself. Not a single shot of bitterness or maleficence.

I find that more noteworthy than any other element of this documentary. A man an audience could easily laugh at has lived a life seemingly without causing much harm to others.  I would never say the same for myself. If Bate has selected this man to be the spokesman of our Golden Record, I'm okay with that.