Short movie review.

 Militant dykey punk rock with S & M.

Rise Above: The Tribe 8 Documentary



 We figured out we were just watching a DVD at the Clinton Street Theater, when a little "Play" icon showed up in the top left-hand corner of the screen as the curtains parted for a limited-run screening of "Rise Above: The Tribe 8 Documentary." It may not have been worth $6, but $2 or $3 at your local video store? Aboslutely. 



 It's amazing how documentaries can take something you're really not that interested in, or know much about, and weave footage into a compelling story that leaves you inspired and informed. Take punk dyke rock, for instance. It may not be your cup of tea, but director/producer Tracy Flannigan will make you identify with these militant lesbians as if they're your sister or mother. 



 The doc format can be a deep, dark hole that is easy to fall into, however, because it's deceptively hidden by faux-foliage drapery. Flannigan may not have seen this one coming as much as I did. When you profile just a band, it's tempting to give equal attention to each band member, or, at some point in the movie focus on one band member after the other, after the other, and so on. This became evident when childhood pictures of each band member were revealed like we were watching some kind of punk rock Senior Dinner from high school.



 That's not to say that this movie doesn't deliver on the goods. It goes after the heart of what made Tribe 8 so interesting - their stage antics included a hefty amount of violent displays of S & M and this did not sit well with even the most militant feminists at first. Tribe 8's appearance at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival was protested by women and lesbians confused by the punk band's messages. The footage at the festival, where the ladies of Tribe 8 sat down with festival-goers to hash out the issues at hand, was somehow simultaneously heartfelt and absurd. One young woman's warbled-by-tears laments concerning Tribe 8's use of violence were placated by other young women reaching out to soothe her emotional torment in one big Michigan Womyn love-fest.



 If nothing else the movie is worth seeing for the band's stage antics and the all-too-rarely-spelled-out lyrics that are fascinatingly compelling in an angry lesbian way. Their stage attire is often their birthday suit, sometimes an S/M-inspired bondage article of clothing that does not cover their private parts but mostly inspires fear and awe, and lead singer Lynee Breedlove often does something creative with a strap-on. At one show she brandished a large-blade knife and chopped her own, um, penis off and threw it into the crowd. Perhaps the most startling image was achieved when the band solicits a "straight man" to the stage to blow Lynee while the band pounds out a song, Breedlove singing whilst being blown. Let the mind-fucking begin.



 The film also digs at the various members' drug problems and how that relates to their drive to keep going as a band. These parts deliver some of the hardest-hitting moments of the movie; including the reasons why these women are so strongly anti-sexual assault. A moment with Lynee and her mother where she is pushed to reveal her sexual assault experience, while doped out, is particularly gut-wrenching. 



 Even if the music doesn't appeal to you, these women have stories to tell you'll never hear anywhere else.