Courtesy of First Person Arts
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Those who haven't spent much time outside the city may not know it, but fishing poles are for pussies. Real men, apparently, stick their hands in underwater riverbank cavities, wait until a catfish bites and bloodies their fingers, and wrestle the writhing 40-pound creatures out of the water.
The craft is called "noodling," and director Brad Beesley is so taken with it that he's made two films about noodlers. His first, Okie Noodling, came out in 1999. Since then, the sport has become a cultural sideshow featured on MTV and ESPN2 and in The New York Times. His second, Okie Noodling 2, will be screened Thursday evening at the Painted Bride.
It seems like making a follow-up to a movie about Oklahomans catching catfish could only lead to redundancy. And Beesley admits that while the sequel does feature more footage of the Okie Noodling competition (whose attendance has ballooned since the first movie), it wasn't really made to fill in gaps or update viewers. He just wanted to noodle some more.
That noodling is so addictive is perhaps the biggest surprise in Okie Noodling 2 — surprising because of the pained, contorted expressions on the fishers' faces when they reach underwater and struggle to pull out the small leviathans. While some go alone, it's usually a multi-man (or occasionally multi-woman) effort: If the fish's home is under a boulder, it needs to be lifted while the noodler grabs the creature. According to Beesley, the most hazardous part of noodling is the risk of that rock falling on your hand and trapping you underwater. But as one noodler in the film says, "It gets in your blood. It's worse than drugs."
And like some drugs, it's illegal, at least in some states. Since Beesley's first film, noodling is now prohibited in 13 states instead of just four. Missouri still bans the practice under a 1919 law, although a band of Missouri enthusiasts have formed an advocacy group, Noodlers Anonymous, to try to legalize catching catfish by hand. Legislators are concerned that noodling consumes the catfish population at an unsustainable rate, but noodlers have countered that there is no evidence to support the claim.
Beesley doesn't speak with any lawmakers, not wanting to spend screen time on "talking heads and suits." Instead, the film is completely from the perspective of noodlers and their families. And while shots of men submerging underwater and emerging with fish can start to feel redundant, Beesley successfully balances the work with out-of-water scenes.
Perhaps the most valuable element of the film is not what it is about, but who it is about. It is, after all, a story revolving around people living in some of the reddest of the red states, who are too frequently broken down into stereotypes and voter blocs. Okie Noodling 2 portrays without any political connotation or innuendo the citizens of "the other side." The most important issue here isn't abortion or gay marriage or other election-season talking points — it's how to catch the biggest fish.
Thu., Nov. 13, 7-8 p.m., $10, Painted Bride.
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