The other day I got a parcel from bi11i, the digital maestro responsible for both junkylife.com and opiophile.org.
In the parcel were a few things, notably an opiophile t-shirt (I’d post the link but it seems to be down right now) and a DVD of, to quote the man himself, “a film you might be interested in.”
Last night, I slid the DVD into the player, finally found my remote control amidst the detritus of my room, and gave it a whirl.
The film turned out to be the documentary Union Square (2003), a documentary following the lives of seven individuals living and shooting dope on the streets of New York City.
What I saw during the next 95 minutes was an arresting look into the lives of people not too far from my own age. They were articulate and incredibly self-aware - and it was this, even more than the graphic depictions of shooting up in public restrooms, which made me sit up and take notice.
The director, Stephen J Szklarski, not only gave us an unflinching glimpse into the daily routine of these young people, but also made the viewer care about them and their lives in such a way that by the end of the movie you wanted them to be better (even though you knew the prospects weren’t good). Therefore, it was good to see the “special features” section of the DVD held follow-up interviews with many of the participants of the original film, and even the mother of one of the guys.
I must admit, I dozed off during the Director’s Commentary (by that time it was about 1.30am, and the benzos I’d just swallowed probably didn’t aid in the whole keeping-awake thing) but what he had to say wasn’t as important, anyway. In fact, I kept thinking Shut the hell up, you pompous bastard. You’ve never shot dope, in fact you’ve admitted that you have no idea about any of this stuff, you’re in no position to judge. Who are you to say what’s what? STRAIGHTIE!
It was the central characters themselves - in particular Cheyenne (the only girl), Rob (the chatty depressive dude from a good family) and James (the kid from Long Island) - who made me care about the film; I could see elements of myself in all of them. I cringed when Cheyenne spoke about her and her boyfriend Mike being “functional addicts” before they lost their house… There but for the grace of God go I, I thought to myself.
Time after time, there were moments in the movie like that. The shooting-up scenes made me wince with the familiarity (my own arms, after a fairly extended run, are not pretty either) although the lifestyle these junkies lead is not a familiar one to me. I’ve only been to New York City but once in my life so far; even though I lived just two and a half hours away in Connecticut for almost a year (although CT could have been a different planet for all it has in common with the city.)
As much as the scenery changes, though, some things stay the same: the zero-sum equation of junkydom. The more you shoot, the more you want; more is never enough. It’s an incredibly limiting life where the sphere of reference keeps getting smaller, and you’re so busy staving off the sickness that you don’t even notice. The same holds true whether you’re on the streets of The Big Apple or in a rented couple of rooms in Brisbane.
As a documentary, Union Square was real, raw, and gut-wrenchingly good.
As an anti-drug film, it served its purpose too. I woke up this morning and didn’t even want to get high.
Leave a Reply