One of the most universally praised films of the year, Sean Baker’s Tangerine is an experimental drama that blends iPhone photography, radical casting, and a typically asynchronous soundtrack that makes for a loud and abrasive experience. Critics have applauded the film for its nearly non-existent budget and casting of transsexual actresses – yet remiss from a decent amount of these interviews is what the synthesis of all these non-traditional elements actually amount to. Meaning that, while the general consensus has congratulated Baker for his choices in the making of the film, the criticism is usually limited to just that – perhaps out of fear of being the minority in regards to a film largely about just that?
Tangerine is frenetic filmmaking. There are no two ways about it, the experience which Baker and his team have created is an offensive, pulsating visual miasma of hot pavement, crack smoke, body sweat, and donuts during Christmas Eve in Hollywood. Following recently released Sin-Dee (Kitana Kiki Rodriguez) as she navigates the streets of Los Angeles in hopes of finding her former lover/pimp, Chester’s (James Ransone), new lover, Dinah (Mickey O’Hagan). Along for the ride is Sin-Dee’s supposed best friend, Alexandra (Mya Taylor), and a married taxi driver, Razmik (Karren Karagulian), who holds a certain infatuation for Sin-Dee. The cast of characters is something along the lines of a Hawksian nightmare, with the film’s climax playing like the antithesis to this year’s Mistress America.
Tangerine is the anti-screwball comedy. While the film is often hilarious, the idiosyncrasy and refinement of the screwball genre is nowhere to be found, and is instead replaced by a pervasive feverishness that exhausts the viewer. Baumbach’s Mistress America is an incredible film – yet far from reality as the characters juggle a multitude of lines, rarely stepping on each other’s words. The characters of Tangerine break this cinematic rule as the Hawksian climax is moved from the typical upper class household to a relatively sketchy Donut Time where the characters find enjoyment in screaming at and over each other.
Now, the performances themselves are great. The choice of casting transsexual actresses – Rodriguez and Taylor, as well as sizable amount of extras – is a bold move, especially when considered within an industry that has proven itself as a proponent of whitewashing. Throughout the film the actresses prove themselves capable of a particular explosiveness, yet it is in the film’s few quiet moments that the performances transcend a foul nature that is reminiscent of John Waters, to becoming actual multi-layered artworks.
Moral ambiguity is the key-term here, because the majority of the characters are largely unlikable yet Baker plays with this notion quite well. Sin-Dee, in her ever crazy pursuit of revenge, calls back to Budd Boetticher’s Ride Lonesome. A film about an equally distant and awful protagonist, whose pain once realized, repaints all previous illustrations, and in this sense, Tangerine is certainly a film that deserves to be watched multiple times.
Moving onto the much talked about visual presentation, the iPhone photography works. As most gimmick films – 3D, one-shot films, black-and-white – go, there is a certain level of attention paid to the look and feel, yet like all great films, it never disrupts the actual product. The style is a compliment to the substance. However, to say that this is a new style of filmmaking as some critics have pegged it is wrong, for the aesthetic of Tangerine is easily comparable to and seemingly influenced by Nevildine/Taylor’s Crank (2006). Sure, Baker and Radium Cheung make a much better use of it, but I feel it inappropriate to not give credit where it is due.
Tangerine’s use of music is its greatest strength. As hysteric as the visuals may be, much of their power is a result of the equally hectic soundtrack. Moments such as Razmik discovering that a prostitute has a vagina rather than a penis are heightened to an unbelievable extreme as tracks such as DJ Lightup and DJ Heemie’s “Team Gotti Anthem” and Haterade & Skellism’s “Taliban” tear through the picture like a knife through the skull. It’s a bold synthesis of audio and visuals, and once combined with Baker’s bravado editing, Tangerine can certainly be viewed as a stylistic breakthrough.
However, the film’s final minutes negate this commitment to the absurd as Baker opts for an attempt at resonance which feels dishonest within the diegesis. Yes, these characters are authentic and they feel pain just like us, yet following the pageantry of seemingly improvised disgust that the viewer is subjected to, the conclusion feels far too scripted and stilted. From zig-zagging across the screen and cross-cutting various instances of debauchery, Tangerine suffers from its eventual evolution into overtly staged static imagery.
Overall, Tangerine is commendable for its grand use of low-budget ($100,000) and progressive casting choices. Yet there is much more at play than just that. Tangerine is visceral and morally challenging filmmaking from a still evolving auteur. It’s as if The Wizard of Oz (1939) only took place within the tornado, and as a portrait of Hollywood, it’s a myth shattering artwork. Ultimately, Tangerine is a brave and hypnotic ride that unfortunately gives into the conventions that, for much of its duration, works against.
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