My Own Private Idaho (Criterion Collection)

by J.D. Lafrance

J.D. Lafrance , a film critic from Canada, is currently researching and writing a book on the films of Michael Mann. He writes weekly DVD reviews for the online film magazine WhatDVD and has a regular column, entitled "Cinematic Pleasures," for the online pop culture magazine, Erasing Clouds.

In his first two motion pictures, Mala Noche (1986) and Drugstore Cowboy (1989), Portland filmmaker, Gus Van Sant skillfully legitimized everyday existence on film by presenting fascinating explorations into street life. These films never exploited or romanticized their rather seedy subject matter, but viewed the characters impartially, leaving it up to the viewer to make a value judgement. Both films, however, were based on other people's work—a warm-up for Van Sant's next film, My Own Private Idaho (1991). This feature is arguably his best effort to date because it is his most personal project, a labor of love that shows a filmmaker at the apex of his powers.

Idaho is an ambitious blend of Shakespeare's Henry IV and the lives of Portland street hustlers. The film focuses on the adventures of two social outcasts. Scott Favor (Keanu Reeves) is a modern-day Prince Hal, a rich kid from an affluent family slumming with street folk as an act of rebellion against his father, the Mayor of Portland. He turns 21 years old in a few days, at which point he will inherit his father’s fortune. His close friend, Mike Waters (River Phoenix), is a narcoleptic dreamer prone to lapsing into a deep sleep during times of stress at the most inopportune moments. Mike is the son of a woman he barely remembers, (we only catch glimpses of her through his grainy, Super-8 reminiscences) and dreams of tracking her down. It is a quest that takes both hustlers from the streets of Portland to America's heartland, as symbolized by Idaho, and finally to Italy.

Idaho is Van Sant's own unique spin on the road film. The motion picture opens and ends with Mike on the road—a deserted, picturesque stretch somewhere in Idaho. In both scenes, Mike delivers a monologue, a Kerouacian ode to the road before passing out in a narcoleptic fit. There is something about this road that induces Mike's seizures. Perhaps it is his observation that when looked at in a certain way (with the visual aid of an iris lens) the road seems like "a fucked-up face, like it's saying, 'Have a nice day.’” Mike's narcolepsy is an important motif in the film. It is the first image we see—the word appearing highlighted in a dictionary. His black outs act as a portal into Mike's world: the private Idaho of the film's title which offers a glimpse into his dreams, his aspirations, and provides clues to his past. Mike’s narcoleptic escapades are comprised of fragmented footage: fast moving clouds in vast, blue skies; salmon jumping up stream; and old, scratchy, 8mm film of Mike's trailer park past.

Like Austin filmmaker Richard Linklater, Van Sant's films mix professional thespians with non-actors effortlessly. The rather eclectic cast (that features '60s cult actor and Andy Warhol regular, Udo Kier; Red Hot Chili Peppers bassist Flea, and director of Winter Kills, William Richert) fill out their respective roles admirably, but the film really belongs to River Phoenix. Mike is clearly the heart of the film with Scott's story taking up very little screen time. With his narcoleptic flashbacks we see most of the film through Mike's eyes. He yearns for love and eternal friendship from Scott in an incredibly touching and tragic scene where the two are sitting by a campfire on the road to Idaho. Mike tries to articulate his feelings for Scott when he says, "I love you and you don't pay me." Mike conveys a feeling that Scott could never imagine, let alone feel. This scene is the highlight of the film and showcases Phoenix's formidable acting talents.

He delivers an intelligent performance by giving life to Mike. The way Phoenix looks in the film, a combination of messed up hair, bedraggled clothes, a rumpled appearance and mannerisms to match, make one think of James Dean's tortured teen, Jim Stark, in Rebel Without A Cause (1955). Like Dean, Phoenix can suggest emotion from simple movements and gestures. Idaho enabled Phoenix to shed the pretty-boy/Teen Beat image that had dogged him throughout his career and portray a character that could really exist. His performance in Idaho, with its willingness to take chances, ranks right up there with some of the great performances of our time and makes one realize what a talent has been lost with his death. For Phoenix, it was the perfect project to experiment and to grow as an actor. Originally, the screenplay was rather nebulous in its view of whether Mike was gay or not. It was Phoenix who decided to make reveal his character’s sexual orientation and this change only improves the film.

Fans of this movie can finally throw away their old VHS copies now that the folks at the Criterion Collection have given it the deluxe special edition treatment it so richly deserves. The first thing that people will be struck by is the beautiful transfer that brings out the vivid yellows of the countryside in the opening scene, the pronounced orange-red of Mike’s jacket and the warm colors of the campfire scene. There is no sign of artifacting in this near flawless print. Also included is a new 5.1 surround sound track. For the most part the sound is relegated to the front speakers—it is not the kind of film that utilizes full surround—but in a few scenes the sound of thunder can be heard rumbling discreetly in the back speakers.

In lieu of an audio commentary, the second DVD features a two-hour conversation between Gus Van Sant and filmmaker Todd Haynes (Far From Heaven). The two men talk about many aspects of Idaho, including the meanings behind some of the imagery and the significance of the ending. This track is loaded with many wonderful insights into how the film was made.

The Making of My Own Private Idaho is a retrospective documentary that features the insights of key crew members, editor Curtiss Clayton, directors of photography John Campbell and Eric Alan Edwards, and production designer David Brisbin. Edwards mentions that Van Sant wanted to make Idaho after Mala Noche but nobody was interested in giving him money (because of the subject matter) so he did Drugstore Cowboy and its success allowed him to finally make Idaho.

Kings of the Road examines the elements of Henry IV and Orson Welles’ Chimes at Midnight (1965) that Van Sant integrated into his own movie. Film scholar Paul Arthur speaks in rather academic terms in this informative extra.

There is also an engaging conversation between the film’s producer, Laurie Parker, and River Phoenix’s younger sister, Rain. They talk about his performance in Idaho and Parker comments that the young actor had a “quiet, meditative quality that runaway boys have.” The two women do not dwell on River’s tragic death but rather focus on his work.

A real treat for fans are six deleted scenes that include more Shakespearean-influenced dialogue as Scott stages a mock encounter with his father as played by Bob (Richert). Another scene finally reveals who exactly picks up Mike at the end of the movie.

Also included is an hour-long conversation between JT LeRoy and Jonathan Caouette. They both used to live on the streets, Caouette used his experiences on his film, Tarnation (2004) and LeRoy wrote the screenplay for Van Sant’s movie, Elephant (2003). They talk about their impressions of the film and about the authenticity of its depiction of street life. Van Sant makes an appearance and answers some of their questions.

Finally, there is a 64-page booklet with an insightful review by Amy Taubin, Lance Loud’s excellent on-the-set article (originally published in American Film magazine) and interviews with Van Sant, Phoenix, and Reeves (that originally appeared in Interview magazine).

My Own Private Idaho did not break any box office records or win any Academy Awards, but it has endured. For a film that made so many studio executives nervous, it does not go for the shock value of its subject matter. Van Sant presents his hustlers as real, three-dimensional characters with humanity and the capacity for tenderness and humor. Mike’s story is a touching, poetic quest for family and identity that aspires to a level most films only dream of attaining. Kudos to Criterion for assembling a truly impressive package that is a fitting love letter to the fans of this movie.

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