Some of the strongest human emotions are revealed where we least expect them—not in the expression, but the spaces between. It’s the exhale of breath you hear after someone tells you they love you. It’s the way a friend’s eyes brighten as you watch them open a gift on their birthday. It’s the side eye you give a dog owner when you notice that their Shih Tzu is wearing an argyle sweater vest.
This is why The Green Fog feels so overwhelming and special. It’s a movie that exalts the magical spaces between, the ones that are easy to overlook but resonate the most.
A found footage experiment by mad scientists Guy Maddin, Evan Johnson, and Galen Johnson, The Green Fog combines over 90 movies filmed in San Francisco and assembles them as a remake of Vertigo. If you watch this back to back with Hitchcock’s film, I’m sure some great stuff happens—just like when you watch Holy Mountain back to back with DoggieWoggiez! PoochieWoochiez!, the Everything is Terrible! remake that only features footage of dogs. But for those of us that don’t have three hours to spare, The Green Fog appears to have as much in common with Vertigo as Jackass 3D. Stripped of those expectations, this labyrinth movie thrives on its own . . . as long as you accept that coherency is not a priority.
As a literal green fog rolls over San Francisco—sometimes rendered with savage CGI that wouldn’t feel out of place in Birdemic—we’re treated to an onslaught of unrelated situations. Drives through the city. Rooftop chases. Hugs. Kisses. Dinner conversations where the words are removed, so we only see people’s breaths and expressions. Chuck Norris solemnly working through some shit. The Zodiac Killer visiting a hospital. George Kuchar driving in a rainstorm. None of this makes sense from a narrative standpoint. But the outpouring of visuals summons a gush of emotions. Before long, the experience feels like staring into an abstract painting by Hilma af Klint. It’s intoxicating, impenetrable, and endlessly mystifying.
Like Gamera: Super Monster, a super-movie that was mashed together from several different sources, The Green Fog doesn’t use concealer on its zits. Frame rates hiccup and sources are inconsistent. The movie feels like it was edited quickly without overthinking. Luckily, this accentuates our disconnected voyage, one that’s embellished by the doomy original score from Kronos Quartet and the excellent collage-like sound design. Guy Maddin never had a Twin Peaks or Hairspray to break him out of the realm of DIY wizardry and into the mainstream. I’m happy about that. Because if Maddin was too busy dealing with studios, he might not have teamed up with Johnson and Johnson to construct an art project that miraculously combines footage from Thundercrack! with Pacific Heights. And I’d be a lot less happier right now.
The last line we hear in The Green Fog is “you’re a good listener.” With that, it somehow all makes sense.
