The Angulo brothers are a populist documantarian’s dream. Bright young things with natural Instagram insouciance, a quirky moviemaking hobby and a staggering back story. These boys could crush you at Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, fashion you a paper gun arsenal, quote Charles Foster Kane verbatim and still find time to modestly seek your opinion on their pasta sauce. No wonder Crystal Moselle fell under their spell. Who wouldn’t?
Unfortunately this filmmaker’s affection for The Wolfpack, whom she first encountered roaming New York’s First Avenue, all long hair and shades – tinges the gripping subject matter of her feature with a wishy washy tone far better suited to the aforementioned social network.
Bhagavan, Govinda, Narayana, Mukunda, Krsna and Jagadesh, together with sister Visnu, were named and raised in line with the rather abstract beliefs of their Peruvian father Oscar. Disillusioned and frightened by the reality of life in New York City he created a tiny dictatorship in an apartment high above the mean streets. Mixing Hare Krishna philosophy with alcohol, paranoia and brutality. Reducing his adventurous American wife to a shadow and prompting his lonely children to turn to the movies for a window on the world outside.
Beautiful, bewildered, talented and angry, the six Angulo sons began to play act stand-out moments from their VHS and DVD hoard. Cherry picking cult and contemporary classics with meaty roles for them all. Painstakingly transcribing script from screen, crafting cunning props and, eventually, recreating these epics scene by scene. Using Tarantino, Nolan and Coppola to express a range and depth of emotional colour they hadn’t the wherewithal – support or nerve – to mine from their own lives.
Until one day something gave. Middle brother Mukunda went outside. Of his own volition. Put a mask on his face, to give himself Michael Myer’s invincibility, and walked out of the door. Not outrageous behaviour for another mildly emo teenager, perhaps, but extraordinary in the context of a childhood in which – by Mukunda’s matter of fact admission – they went outside “…between one and nine times a year”. And some years not at all. Some years Not. At. All.
It is at this point that a seed of disquiet is sown about Crystal Moselle’s intentions. Because Mukunda speaks, eloquently and openly, about what went next. His arrest, hospitalisation and ongoing therapy. The excising of his own father from his life – even as they continue to share the same warren of rooms – and the ripple effect his walk on the wild side caused. Yet we see only frustrating fragments of the truths he confides. Enat Sidi’s edit splices in family movies, tangents and The Coen Brothers. Keeping things carefully cool and mildly shallow.
If this were a family of captive girls living vicariously through soaps would this film even exist? One has to wonder. Or had the Angulo boys had been chunky or plain, with the same talent and eye for detail, plus a penchant for Michael Bay and polyester leisure wear.
Oscar Angulo remained at a remove of only a room or two throughout the shoot. Which is first uncomfortable, then menacing and eventually surreal, in light of the revelations his sons and wife go on to share. Although Moselle does raise the question of apology, she seems content to let both Oscar and wife Susanne wander away from the notion of accountability. At times, as she softly lingers on yet another hair toss or yoga move, she seems too busy referencing Sophia Coppola’s Virgin Suicides to notice the remarkable opportunity slipping her grasp.
Everything wonderful you will see, hear and share about The Wolfpack brothers is entirely true. They are part wise guys, part Lost Boys and all charm. Their home movies are a delight, their fortitude beyond admirable and their bond undeniable. Let us hope Hollywood will be gentle with them when they inevitably get there. The ‘firsts’ Crystal Moselle has captured – along with those movies – are worth the price of entry alone. Yet, ultimately, their observer lets them down. Asking and answering few core questions would not have cramped the whimsical style but it would have done more justice to the underlying story and to the Angulos, one and all.
