Jason Sondhi
My childhood was the era of the action hero. Arnold. Sly. Van Damme. Iffy actors sure, but huge muscles! The toys of choice were He-Man, and my cool, older sister would slip me super-hero comics right as Rob Liefeld was making his name. Muscles were everywhere and have hardly gone out of style since. Yet with age and great effort, I can sufficiently estrange my perception from that of the culture I swim in to realize—that’s pretty damn weird!
Because the truth is I’ve yet to meet a woman who is genuinely attracted to intensely popping veins. The sacrifices required to maintain such a body strike most as a form of monk-like self-flagellation, and the sheer time necessary to build such a body is selfish for anyone with a job or a family, suggesting extreme narcissism.
Yet the muscle-bound physique is still held up as the attainable ideal, one whose seductiveness I am not immune to. Neither is today’s featured filmmaker Raymond Knudsen, who transitioned from a chubby kid to a tall and skinny teen and, through his dissatisfaction with both, was lured to the world of competitive bodybuilding. We’ve long recognized media-induced body dysmorphia in girls, but it’s only recently that the cultural conversation has more generally come around to recognizing that the boys are not alright and that they can be equally susceptible to making a twisted idol of their bodies.
I spoke to a bodybuilder before making this film and he told me that bodybuilding is like taking a psychedelic – whatever you’ve swept under the rug is going to come out.
Prep emerged out of therapy, and is Knudsen’s attempt to process and share the pitfalls of a bodybuilding mindset. Initially, the filmmaker found only positives: he looked great, discovered community within the gym, and experienced a healthy outlet for his competitive energy. However, he eventually ran into trouble, noting “My relationship with food became disordered during each contest prep and my relationship to my body became a roller coaster. I tied my self-worth to my body and never felt good enough, a variety of pitfalls that I wasn’t made aware of when idolizing those influencers.”
While that covers the “what” of Prep it fails to touch on the “how”. Because so much of what Knudsen is trying to communicate is interior and psychological, the film forgoes a traditional narrative. Instead, borrowing from commercial and music video styles, as well as being influenced by cinema figures such as Gaspar Noe, the film is a full-frontal assault on the senses, an aggro “fever dream” in the director’s phrasing, that rapidly alternates between hi-energy workouts, online food porn videos, direct-to-camera addresses, and liminal fantasy spaces complete with choreographed dancing—all scored to intense techno.
I knew this film had to be the opposite. Loud as fuck and in your face.
Despite running for 14 minutes the approach is not punishing, nor do you miss conventionality. Potentially classifiable as an “experimental” piece, the themes being communicated are nonetheless crystal clear, and the visual approaches that Knudsen and his DP, Robert Bevis realize are diverse enough to maintain one’s attention. At the center is Chibueze Anyasor, who is magnetic in a very different performance than his prior collaboration with Knudsen. “My previous short film with Chibueze, STAGE READY, was a quiet slice-of-life film in the vein of Andrea Arnold’s work. No music and very little dialogue. Everything was communicated through facial expression and action. I knew this film had to be the opposite. Loud as fuck and in your face.”
Yet, within the sturm and drang of the approach, the film manages to be emotionally moving. Knudsen utilizes what are, admittedly, heavy-handed metaphors to sell the message that a disordered and obsessive mindset is born of childhood trauma and deep-seated insecurity. But, it is undeniably effective and the juxtaposition of the fragile and innocent with the hulking and the aggressive is poignant. The script was a result of an exercise from Knudsen’s therapist to “write one crappy page a day without judging myself” and that confessionary, healing aspect of the film shines through. As Knudsen expanded to us, “I spoke to a bodybuilder before making this film and he told me that bodybuilding is like taking a psychedelic – whatever you’ve swept under the rug is going to come out.” Prep plays like the ego making sense of what has escaped from under the rug of the id, and not only is it insightful, but it will, hopefully, be of benefit to viewers who recognize themselves in the scenario.
Knudsen plans on staying connected to bodybuilding via an online series titled Bodybuilders Anonymous which will feature unfiltered interviews from participants, as well as writing a feature film set in the world. He is also a talented producer, having shepherded the short film Weapons and Their Names to a Sundance premiere last year, and his next producing project is a feature film titled The Big Game, which is written/directed by Stephen Musumeci and boasts Jim Cummings as an executive producer.