FOO-FOO DUST Rating: (out of 5 stars) Directors: Gina Levy, Eric Johnson Producer: Gina Levy Director of Photography: Gina Levy Cast: Stephanie, Tony

More 2003 LA Film Festival reviews.

Review by: Dan Tester
6/22/03

I wonder if the makers of the documentary Foo-Foo Dust even considered making their short film into a feature, or if they really feel that they captured and conveyed everything they wanted to in 39 minutes. To me, this story of a mother and son crack addict duo holed up in a shady San Francisco hotel ingesting crack cocaine and heroin in non-stop, death-be-damned fashion, begs to be longer. It presents graphic footage of the world of drug addiction, mostly taking place in an ugly hotel room, but at some point, I just kept wondering, what is the greater story here?

The documentary opens with 22-year-old Tony, clearly whacked out on one substance or another, mumbling into the camera about his childhood and his mother. It seems Tony is on a mission to score some crack cocaine for his 52-year-old mom Stephanie (reminding me of a wacky and strung out Elaine May) who is back in their dingy bachelor flat literally convulsing in anticipation of her son's latest conquest. When he returns with less crack than expected she loses her temper, and in a fascinating 5-minute stretch, goes through every irrational emotion known to man -- screaming, swearing, throwing things, trying to be introspective, then collapsing in a weepy heap upon her artwork when her son can't find a razor blade. Soon after, we see Tony nearly overdose on heroin, collapsing on the bathroom floor, as Stephanie hollers at him from the other room to "not go to sleep" while feverishly fixing up her next inhale.

Surely this is not Ozzie and Harriet territory here, and it is often a fascinating and disturbing look at two addicted maniacs with no ambition but to score their next hit. But to be honest, I have seen plenty of documentaries presenting the ugly lives of drug addicts (HBO's America Undercover basically survives off this stuff), and I was hoping Foo-Foo Dust would bring a new angle. The curious thing is, it really does bring a new angle -- the mother and son tandem -- but sadly doesn't explore it nearly enough. The filmmakers' agenda here ultimately caused more frustration in this viewer than appreciation. Obviously Gina Levy and Eric Johnson stumbled upon this duo and began documenting them from a certain point, but there is still precious little backstory here to establish a connection. There are occasional anecdotal memory snippets from the "stars" as the poison in their systems inspires them to wax philosophical at times, but not enough to satisfy my interest in "how the hell did it ever come to this?"

So much information is discounted in an apparent attempt to keep the film short -- for example, Stephanie prostitutes herself for a living, but only brief references are made on the subject. If you really want to strongly present the hideousness of these lives, why not send a camera crew with this pathetic creature so we can witness for our own eyes the horror of her existence as she hooks for crack money? Tony discusses briefly his past life -- his former fiancé, his long gone child, his failed life -- but no depth is presented here. Not even pictures or anything. If anyone can watch Foo-Foo Dust for 15 minutes and not demand to know what the previous 20 years of these people's lives were like and how it all went so wrong, I would be surprised. It seems somewhat essential.

Late in the film (well, 20 minutes or so), Stephanie and Tony are informed that they face eviction from their hole of an apartment, and Stephanie decides they should move in with an acquaintance in the suburbs. They pack up their "essentials," and move on up to the East Side. All right, I thought!! This is going to be an interesting juxtaposition; these two drug rats living in the 'burbs should be fascinating. But no, it is not meant to be. While I would imagine most documentarians would consider this development to be a great cathartic midpoint of the story, Gina Levy and Eric Johnson have decided that it is the end. As Stephanie and Tony roll into the green, grassy, wooden-fenced haven of suburbia, the screen goes black. THE END. WHAT????? Sure, we get the obligatory screen crawls at the end, informing us that one of the two seems to be turning their life around now, while the other has slipped further into depravity. But, why not make the film 60 minutes, or 90 minutes, and display their experiences living around John and Joan Everyman in the suburbs? I dunno, but I can't believe it wasn't documented. I really felt robbed.

Upon review, it seems Foo-Foo Dust was more interested in simply presenting the exploitative aspects of the lives of Stephanie and Tony, instead of fleshing out a full human story. Exploitation is fine with me, and certainly this subject matter should feature its fair share. But I just left the film wanting so much more, and finding myself very confused as to why I was denied.

But as always, it is only one man's opinion.

(Screened at the 2003 Los Angeles Film Festival)

Comment on the message boards.