I guess that it's not really a mystery why Robert Downey Sr.'s films get some weirdly bad reviews. Though his films are smart and hip, Downey goes after straight culture with an unmatched, gleeful, subversive eye, and generally hits what he aims at. Chafed Elbows epitomises this style, going after everything, including the making of movies itself. In Chafed Elbows, like Chris Marker, he uses still photographs to great effect, but more in the vein of National Lampoon magazine than F-Stop. This film plays like jazz, riffing from one theme to another, one scene to another, one character to another, eschewing plot for wit and speed and surreal wordplay. It's a wonder that this, and Downey's other movies, were ever made, they are so wonderfully offensive. His audience is, perhaps intentionally, small. The rewards, however, for those who do love his films, are great indeed. Viva Downey!
Review of Chafed Elbows
