In 1969, Morley Markson's film BREATHING TOGETHER: REVOLUTION OF THE ELECTRIC FAMILY offered a glimpse at some of America's most radical and persuasive thinkers, with concurrent documentary footage and imaginative effects. Eighteen years later, he revisited his interviewees and sat them in
front of the earlier videotape to comment on their pasts.
Jerry Rubin, a charismatic proponent of rebellion then, is now a proud member of the middle-class. Abbie Hoffman, the Jewish vaudevillian of the batch, is still campaigning for grass-roots causes. Fred Hampton's death during a violent police raid on a Black Panther house is recalled by the woman
who was then pregnant with his son. William Kunstler holds the same convictions now as ever. John Sinclair finds his earlier self a scary and embarrassing joke. Don Cox, now an expatriate in Paris, still holds idealistic convictions. Timothy Leary, heavily immersed in computer software
applications, is devoted to free-thinking and constant change. Allen Ginsberg shows off his impressive collection of Beat photographs.
Of course, the film takes on additional shades of meaning all these years later, given the subsequent history of its subjects. Does Abbie Hoffman look suicidal? No, he looks quite content in his T-shirt, amused by the antics of his younger self and pleased to be sought out by new generations of
protesters. An interviewer's question about whether he feels past his prime does seem to niggle a bit, however, probably because it was the thousandth time he'd been asked the same thing that month.
Ginsberg has upgraded his mantra from "Om" to the friendlier "Ah," and regrets the white guilt and paranoia of his younger self. As punctuation, his dark song from the older film is contrasted with a new, lighter one. Complacent homeowner Sinclair's earlier footage compares badly with his
contemporaries, showcasing a myopic thinker with nothing but short-term hedonism in mind. (Shut down the schools and make them crashpads; turn the gyms into dancehalls.)
To a certain extent, Jerry Rubin's former anti-establishment rants plowed that same field, but with sly charm and a tendentious wit that suggests self-parody. This is totally erased by the image of him introducing Republican Caucus night at the Palladium, making excuses about how the movement
abandoned him, and strolling in suit and tie with his dog through his newest acquisition, a posh New York restaurant he intends to refurbish. Also suited and tied with his dog is Timothy Leary, a refreshing lunatic amidst all this sanity, proud of his past and pleased by his achievements, still
railing against conformist thinking, still in favor of whatever counterculture might be out there.
Subtly biased in favor of those who stuck to their guns, GROWING UP IN AMERICA is nonetheless an eye-opening glimpse at the 1960s counterculture and where its survivors ended up. (Adult situations.) leave a comment
