The film offers a peek in the metaphorical cinematic glory hole at a divisive 42nd Street director
I have Philly’s own Exhumed Films to thank for my love of the cinema of the 42nd Street auteur Andy Milligan. It was at their 2014 Forgotten Film Festival they screened a rare 35mm print of his batshit crazy monster rally extravaganza that was at the time “lost” – Blood, that forever altered my DNA as a genre fan. The film had the son of a Werewolf, married to the daughter of Dracula, who just moved into a house straight out of a high school production of The Addams Family. There was an undeniable frantic energy to the film, that was amplified by the handmade, DIY quality and the wordy dialog being recited with the bravado of an off Broadway cast. Sure it was far from perfect, but it had a purity to it, because you could tell that Milligan was in his heart – trying with every bit of his person to put the best film he could onscreen.
Needless to say I was hooked. This had me hunting everything down I could find by the director, which was a bit more difficult than it is today. In the years since a modest groundswell has come up around Milligan, culminating in not only the unearthing of previously “lost” films, but a critical re-evaulation of them as well, which allowed Severin Films to make his catalog more accessible by lovingly curating the The Dungeon Of Andy Milligan Collection Blu-Ray box set. This tracks – since they are also the producers behind an excellent and empathic documentary on the filmmaker that just screened at Tribeca – The DeGenerate: The Life & Films of Andy Milligan. Like Severin’s previous genre docs, this works as both a perfect entry point for non fans, while still giving those who know a thing or two about its subject a few tasty morsels to tide them over.
For those not in the know Andy Milligan was an openly gay director that made a name for himself in the ‘60s making 16mm sleazy, no-budget grindhouse fodder, known for their wordy dialog and over the top theatricality. Milligan trafficked in everything from horror, to sexploition, to Shakespearian costumed period pieces (?!) and to keep costs down, they were also shot, written, edited, costumed, and just about anything else you could imagine by the auteur. This doc does a great job at helping us to really try to understand where Milligan was coming from, by first laying the foundation of a childhood where he was bullied and abused by nearly everyone in his life, including his Army Captain father and his overweight alcoholic mother. This trauma growing up instilled an insatiable anger and resentment in Andy, which would fuel his work, and would haunt him, until he died of Aids in Los Angeles in 1991.
Directors Grayson Tyler Johnson and Josh Johnson expertly craft Andy’s tragic story through film clips, interviews with friends and folks in the NY theater scene, and of course the writer of his excellent biography The Ghastly One, Jimmy McDonough. Thankfully everyone is candid in their thoughts and memories of Milligan, who was, and still is a divisive filmmaker and personality. Not simply for his DIY aesthetic, but his nihilistic views and misogyny, that was a direct result of his mother’s abuse. There’s no excuses to be made here, but instead you’re given enough insight to begin to come to terms with the filmmaker. We’re shown how a troubled childhood led to being kicked out of the military, to a successful acting career in New York and through that, discovering his true love – directing. From there due to his temperament and queerness – he was kept in a vicious cycle, frantically crafting no budget exploitation films, for greedy distributors who only paid a pittance of what they made to fund the next one.
Given how Andy is really only recently discovering some sort of respectability and re-evaluation, nearly three decades after his death – with a portion of his work still lost – crafting this doc and building that feeling of intimacy we get here was no easy task. As a controversial personality, the filmmakers here work thankfully to not soften the edges of Milligan, but allow us to view him from a comfortable distance and form your our opinions. This aided by only interviewing those that had a direct connection to the filmmaker, as opposed to his newer celebrity fans. And as a fan, I applaud the directors and Severin for taking that direction and this chance to tell his difficult story, while showing a real respect and appreciation for Milligan. The DeGenerate: The Life & Films of Andy Milligan is a thoughtful and empathic peek in the metaphorical cinematic glory hole at a director, who was as divisive in real life as his filmography, and I don’t think Andy would have wanted it any other way.
