James Delingpole James Delingpole

A Soviet version of Martin Parr: Adam Curtis’s Russia 1985-1999 –TraumaZone reviewed

Affectionate, mocking, mystifying and bleak but not boring – and it’s refreshing not having someone’s directorial opinion rammed down your throat

Adam Curtis’s TraumaZone is like a Soviet version of Martin Parr’s photos, part affectionate, part mocking, part mystifying. Credit: Screen grab from archive footage/Curtis Productions 
issue 29 October 2022

Russia 1985-1999: TraumaZone – even the title makes you want to scream – is Adam Curtis’s Metal Machine Music: the one where he frightens off his fans by abandoning the trademark flourishes that made him so entertaining and instead goes all pared-down and raw and grim.

If you don’t know or remember what those trademark flourishes were, let me refer you to a cruelly funny pastiche which you can easily find on YouTube called The Loving Trap. This sends up poor Adam as a pioneer of the collage-umentary, a genre resembling ‘a drunken late-night Wikipedia binge with pretence to narrative coherence’ which ‘vomits grainy library footage onto the screen to a soundtrack of Brian Eno and Nine Inch Nails.’

If the BBC had an inkling of what Curtis is actually saying it would drop him like a hot brick

True enough – but those expertly curated ambient tracks were very easy on the ear, as too was Curtis’s soothing voiceover which yoked heterogeneous concepts together and led you in all manner of beguiling and unexpected directions.

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