by Ros Tibbs
Being a true and well rounded cinephile calls for a persistent and educated commitment to everything the artform of filmmaking has to offer. It is not the repeated watching and mentioning of Coppola, Kurosawa, Bergman, Fellini, Kubrick or Welles which carve out a film goer worthy of such titling, but instead the hard work scouting out and deciphering the most obscure, bizarre and poorly made cult films which lack cohesiveness or quality in addition to this.
In a shining, dedicated strive to maintain this, Witch of Popcorn hosted one of their many fabulous and outrageous film nights at Deptford’s Little Nan’s Bar 2.0, right in Lewisham’s vibrancy and summer sunsets, to screen the basically lost Canadian masterpiece, Ryan’s Babe.
The event was coloured with the gorgeous and hilarious commentary led by King Loose Willis who also provided games in between the screenings. We opened the event with some background information about the film delivered in an interesting yet comical manner by Willis, consisting of hilarious trivia surrounding Ryan Babe’s production and discovery, as well as the lives of its cast and crew.
As part of Witch of Popcorn’s style, the audience were given brilliant film prompts centred around the film’s inclusion of Shakespeare, Homer, repetitive scenes and jokes, giving the audience the opportunity to verbally bond over Ryan Babe’s colourful, unique nature. These prompts included honouring Shakespeare and Nikki Graham, one being one of the greatest artists in British history and the other the playwright behind Romeo and Juliet. Both are sorely missed and deeply influential.
These involved crying out “Shaks-speare?”, whenever the dialogue mentions the author’s work and referencing Graham’s life changing Big Brother outburst, “Who is she?”, whenever our protagonist has a new occupation.
The first half of screening was followed by an intermission of a competition delivering Shakespeare lines as an Italian-American wise guy, followed by a stellar performance by Loren Dellacro, who gave an emotionally charged performance to Imogen Heap. Once the second half of the screening concluded, we were treated to another brilliant game of who can use a water pistol in the same style of relieving yourself in a cup through amazing aim. The closing act was gifted by Sigi Moonlight, who delivered a scorching hot rendition of Shania Twain’s Man! I Feel Like a Woman! closed by some lovely vegan cake baked by programmer Luisa.
Overall, it was an amazing night reminding me why I love underground, cult cinema and local film buff communities. In between the lavish drinks and food provided, and the company of some amazing, sharp witted audience members who were given total freedom to share thoughts and jokes and laugh or cry as loudly as needed, the event was a highlight of my film and career year as a whole.
Sitting in the soul of London, the South, Little Nan’s Bar 2.0 can only be described as a kaleidoscope of Britain’s glamorous history, entertainment and taste. Pat Butcher murals sit between 2000s Asda Christmas decorations, fruit cocktails are served in huge Sports Direct mugs, leopard print collides with fairy lights, Lady Di figurines sit in replicas of 007’s car.
It sparks a deep, profound sense of patriotism.
As for the film, Ryan’s Babe is a remarkable and unforgettable love letter to Canada, with its high quality appearing humbly marked by the humble origin story of being “found in a bin” after an estimated budget of $5 to make with an initial plan to air on Canadian cable TV. We have Videonomicon to thank for saving and preserving this artwork.
The film is directed by Canada’s answer to Tommy Wiseau, Ray Ramayya, and stars Bill LeVasseur, Alix Hayden, Catherine Rossilini, Peter Cooy, and Beata Van Berkom, among others (one of which resembles a young Chloë Sevigny). In an electric and eccentric script penned by Ramayya, who strives to prove his auteurship, Ryan’s Babe tells the story of a young man called Ryan, who has to flee his home town and embark on one hell of a road trip after an admirer of his makes an attempt on her life and directly blames him.
Ryan’s journey involves getting involved with a government worker who buckles under the guilt of murdering her mother, getting scammed by counterfeit bills, getting mistaken for a mobster’s son and kidnapped, being attacked by some Charlie’s Angel style cheerleaders seeing justice, becoming a doting father figure, finding work as a stripper and much more.
In case you couldn’t figure out too much of a picture from the synopsis and context, Ryan’s Babe is a dazzling show stopper which will knock you windless from its story, performances and presentation. With one Letterboxd review hailing it as “The Hallmark version of a David Lynch movie”, Ramayya’s obscure film is a labour of love, an illustration and celebration of everything there is to adore about horrifically bad movies, evident in the chaotic world building, ludicrous stylistic approach and performances that are made with all the ferocity of a high school play.
The entire feature can be cited as a safe space for absolute craziness and lack of consistency or logic, where everyone is free to be as unhinged and unconventional as everyone else is so comfortable with it. In an ideal world where lawlessness takes control, none of the film’s bonkers antics are questioned, frowned upon or counteracted. Our dashing protagonist seemingly thrives in struggle and disorder, echoing Mr Bean or After Hour’s Paul in spiralling circumstances, yet remaining unfazed in the face of the immense, ongoing disarray, almost like Hercules.
Ryan’s Babe also holds some solid quality to the camera work, capturing appropriate key figures, actions and emotional expressions, but the editing rhythm creates a dreamy logic where key scenes may have been left out or swapped around, amplifying the Lynchian patterns. It’s utterly oddball territory, laced with Canadian patriotism and refusing to apologise for or even show acknowledgement towards the fact it doesn’t make remote sense, instead just exists as it is, which is perfect.
We also see the director’s unshakable artistic vision in the use of flashbacks squared,or flashbacks within a flashback, making for a great storytelling style choice where you are forcing all your cognitive action and a little extra to maintain understanding which timeline you are currently watching onscreen. Additionally, the initially placed narrative splinters off into numerous others, which then break off into more, and we barely understood the initially placed plot in the first place. Once we get our heads around one set of characters there’s a new batch made by the laboratory of weirdness to infiltrate the screen, making it appear as though what we’re watching is some experimental anthology film rather than one cohesive storyline and Ryan just happens to be there for all of it.
It’s all just a mysterious landscape of trouble and travesty, yet we cannot help but adore it.
Coming in as the glue holding everything together or the heart of the piece, Ryan’s Babe is coloured more by performances which imply extraterrestrial beings wearing human skin and attempting to mimic humans, mostly due to on set improvisation which was then also followed by post editing dubbing, but it all makes sense and feels right at home in the ambience of this bizarre world. The characters may not express such intensity and abstinence from conventional normality in a physical sense but manage to affirm how off their rockers they are nonetheless. They speak in ways that would make more sense if you heard it reverted or distorted; making the Red Room seen in Twin Peaks as easy to comprehend as a Mr Men Book. Their choices can’t begin to make sense and they don’t even attempt to justify them, which just adds to the fun.
Also they’re all experts in Shakespeare, and find, well, force, appropriate times to reference the author’s works to explain their circumstances.
We also think two characters are the same person due to similar looks and mannerisms for important sequences of the film. Once it’s hinted they’re actually not, we beg to see them side by side to state their name and relation to the story in order to fully understand what is going on, not that it would help. Oh and there is an oddly noticeable amount of redheads with curls appearing in the film, showing the director has an eye for unique 90s beauty.
Don’t despair if you’re actually searching for something with weight, as Ryan’s Babe actually has emotionally charged sequences that tug on the heart strings. These include Ryan’s scorned admirer and her father, whose actor delivers a performance that was intentionally ignored by the Academy to give Benicio del Toro the chance to win for Traffic despite being the obvious and only choice, sharing tender moments after the latter makes numerous attempts on Ryan’s life mid-toilet break.
If you’re ever having a bad day, find comfort in the fact that Ryan is having a worse one, yet he remains nonchalant and unknocked by his ongoing terrible circumstances with everything being stacked on top of each other to form the craziest mountain of hilarity and madness.
Ros Tibbs (Instagram – smellsliketeenros) is a freelance film critic/writer based in Essex and East London, specialising in theory, history and the horror genre. She mixes in feminist, political and/or queer frameworks within her passionately written prose and curation work.
