Although Capturing the Friedmans is bloody grim, I was moved to tears by the end by the rather heartwarming return of Jesse to his mother. There was a semblance of hope in that film, I feel.
I always find Charles Crumb's part of Crumb quite chilling.
I'm not being particularly original, but these are two of my favourite films - so by default my favourite grimmies.
Both feature successful survivors (David and Robert) from a stock of siblings whose lives have turned out sheer circumstantial opposites, despite being of identically mannered kin. In
Capturing The Friedmans it's Jesse who is wrongfully condemned, rather than the other brothers, on the fortuitous accident of his age. He happened to be of a high school age, being home enough to assist with his father's computer classes, whilst his father's long-dormant crimes happened to be finally discovered.
It's a frightening story of a life chewed up by chance, and how everyone connected to that person thereafter spends
their life considering, reenacting that turn of chance. At the end there is at least a lot of solace to be found as a viewer in the reconciliation of Jesse and Elaine, Elaine's marriage and David's success in a passionate industry.
R. Crumb and his brothers are a trio of strange individuals. Unlike the Friedmans, they are seemingly from the hard-faced, serious minded 50s world as satirized in Crumb's own comics - no abuse or the sorts of family incidents that one would explain a few developmental kinks into an adult personality.
Comparing it with the Friedmans, there are two sets of brothers who lose on chance: Jesse is put in a real bars-and-concrete prison, but the fameless Crumb brothers have fates which are less angering but more upsetting and hopelessly longing. They're free, but creatively aimless and coping with eccentricities whose expression is self-destruction rather than fame and acclaim - even "high art."
R. Crumb either doesn't want to say, or it does not occur to him, that had his own career not carved a lucrative niche for his revolutionary art, he would plausibly have ended up much like them. So similar are they all. As it is, his life is enviably well-lived. He is very much at peace with the world, and his notoriety has persuaded society to celebrate his eccentricities.
Crumb's own fetishes are of course less extreme than his brother Maxon's impulses towards unsolicited daylight sexual engagement, but Crumb has had the fortune of having his turn-ons enmeshed as an inseperate part of his artistic aesthetic/ public persona... and so had plenty of opportunities to work out the strange erotic associations that still remain childish in Maxon and the late Charles.
Maxon years after the film:
