Hey, Old Man! (February 27th at the Capitol Theater)

[HEY OLD MAN screens Sunday February 27th at 7pm at the Capitol Theater]

Review by Pete Roche

HEY, OLD MAN is a documentary-styled character study wherein local filmmaker Keitj Alin’s cameras follow an eccentric vagrant as he pesters passerby and engages in occult rituals in the concrete jungle of downtown Cleveland.  The “old man” is 200-year old Yesmo Grenade (Perry Barbarino)—but we aren’t made privy to either his age or name until the end of the hour-long affair, during a sit-down chat on metaphysics with Alin over subs at Jimmy John’s. 

Yesmo looks much like any other homeless person wandering the underpasses and alleyways of the Euclid corridor.  He’s got bad teeth, a messy beard, and a ruddy complexion.  His rumpled pants, vest and jacket do not bespeak a man who (to use his words) thinks ahead.   But all semblance of normalcy (by bum standards) disintegrates whenever Yesmo sets up camp at a loading dock or dumpster and starts flipping through tarot cards. 

Each turn of a card bookmarks a new vignette in which Yesmo confronts a student or businessman and badgers them with philosophical queries.  They repay his intrusion with the expected sideways glances—but some aren’t able to flee before the shabby shaman employs his magic.  It’s during these moments we realize Yesmo—mentally ill or not—is possessed of genuine psychic talent.

Yesmo works his mojo to deprive some pedestrians of a dollar or a smoke, but other victims become conduits for inter-dimensional travel.  One cosmopolitan young man is jarred from hypnosis by a car horn; he later discovers a cryptic pattern burned into his skin.  It’s unclear whether Yesmo is just a mischief-maker, or if his behavior is scripted by something more diabolical.  His furtive gestures and manic street monologues suggest he’s capable of siphoning the life force of others to nourish his own wayward spirit.

The only thing not ambiguous about Alin’s subject is his lack of concern for health and hygiene.  Yesmo reacts with near indifference after Mr. Snappy Dresser and his pals throttle him under a bridge; he rolls a smoke instead of seeking medical attention.  Yesmo forages discarded food in curbside trash cans, eating not out of necessity, but rather because—as he informs the director, “we forgot how not to.”  Physically speaking, the earthbound Gnostic hobo is just going through the motions with the rest of us.

Alin, the budding auteur of A BARGE AND ITS WIND, relies primarily on hand-held cameras, tight angles, and the occasional split screen.  Cleveland’s downtown architecture features heavily in his backgrounds—but the shots on Yesmo are so close-up it becomes something of a game for locals to identify familiar structures and pinpoint the bum's location.  Tantric beats underscore his comic jaunts, with the “Fool” card zipping Yesmo from his urban environs into the body of a dolphin-masked monk, who indulges in a private rave in the Metroparks.  Indeed, it’s a wild ride (what’s with the subliminal KFC dig?)—but one that challenges notions of reality, perception, and convention.  2 ½ out of 4 stars.