The warning sign was there – the opening credits revealed that this feature length film was written, edited, filmed, directed by one guy, Riz Story, and featured an original score written, arranged, produced and performed by Riz Story and starred, you guessed it, Riz Story – but I still went forward with my journey to Goloka. This warning sign was telling me that this film wasn’t really intended to entertain an audience, but was to serve as a 90-minute jerk-off reel for some “artist.” But hey, I kept my mind open. I always do. Maybe Riz did have something to say. Maybe it was a message so powerful that he couldn’t help but make this film almost entirely by himself. And now that I’ve seen “Goloka,” am I a better man for taking a look inside Riz’s head? As you can tell from the disgusted looking Slate Boy standing next to that half-star rating up top, the answer is “negative.”
We open up with a grungy looking reclusive writer, Gabriel Christian, telling his story about how he became to be such a hermit and what the events were that led him to write a Pulitzer Prize winning book. Actually it’s just Riz with a bad Jesus wig on and a worse fake beard, rambling about how this story he’s about to belt out will be highly unbelievable. He goes on like this for about five minutes, prodding any sane audience member to scream at the screen, “Alright, let’s get with the f*****g story already!!” But here’s where you gotta watch what you wish for because once the story does begin, that’s when the torture is laid on good and thick.
Looking very much like a glam rocker with painted fingernails, eyeliner and what looks to be the Punisher skull logo shaved into his head, Gabriel Christian has himself exiled to a desolate island so that he can work on the follow-up to his bestseller. It’s to be a month of peaceful brainstorming and soul searching. There’s also a nice little house on the island that’s stocked with food, wine and…dresses. Sounds like a great idear. It’s the writer’s dream to be able to spend a chunk of time on a secluded island, working on their masterpiece. Problem here is, the idea is beautifully illustrated. Imagine how exciting it would be to watch someone moseying about an island, lost in their thoughts, uninspired to do much of anything. That’s right – it’d be f*****g boring, and this film captures that boredom perfectly.
We watch Gabriel’s eventless vacation drag on for at least twenty minutes before, I’ll be dipped in s**t, something happens. Things happening – that’s what movies are about, right? A pretty, tattooed girl washes ashore, naked and comatose and now Gabriel has to figure out what to do with her. Here we have another ten minutes of not a whole lot goin’ on as he puts her in his bed and watches over her, playing his guitar, all the while worrying about her health.
Finally, the girl awakens, frolicking about the island…still nude I might add. But the first thing Gabriel wants to do is put some clothes on her. WHAT?!? Yeah, that’s right, and he’s really adamant about it too. Here he’s been on an island for about two weeks and he’s got this attractive girl bouncing around in front of him in the nude and the first thing he can think of is to throw some clothes on her. I think this is where the real reason Gabriel was exiled to this island surfaces – he’s a shame to the glam rock community.
The girl winds up being a mute, but somehow the two get to know each other by conversing telepathically. You know, like X-men or Jedi. They quickly fall in love with each other and spend the time enraptured in each other’s presence, babbling s**t about the cosmos that goes exactly like this. Yes, “Goloka” evolves into a 90-minute perfume add. What perfume you ask? The Essence of Bullshit I say.
The rest of the film pretty much carries on in this same manner. It’s like watching a couple of lovers taking ecstasy for the first time – it’s a disgusting display and the only way to make yourself feel better about what you’ve watched is get into a good old-fashioned barroom brawl. But then the reason why Gabriel became a recluse after his island vacation is revealed and you’re supposed to feel bummed as the film ends shortly after. Actually, I felt the complete opposite. I felt the urge to cheer. It was like the original line-up of Guns ‘N’ Roses had just taken the stage or something. It was Miller Time, kids.
While watching this mess, I made the comment that this was even worse than Marilyn Manson’s short film. And that’s saying a lot, as Manson’s film was a total splinter in the eye. So it comes as no surprise that Riz Story occupies most of his time being the frontman of a rock band. This is just another case of a rocker trying on a pair of pants that just don’t fit.
