[.ca] Plaster Caster

A Rock-Solid Documentary That's a Blast:
I saw Cynthia Plaster Caster's "babies" on display at Threadwaxing Space in 2000, read about her in a 2001 issue of BB Gun, and was thus very eager to see this. I got my chance at a recent film festival, and thoroughly enjoyed it. This documentary is as unique as its subject, who comes across as quirky, warm and eternally youthful, and whose craft provides us with a bizarre but indispensible bit of rock n roll memorabilia. You'll love "Plaster Caster" if you're a fan of: British rock of the 1960s and '70s; the GTO era of LA; the "indie" music scene of the 1980s and '90s; dive bars inhabited by shaggy-haired rock n rollers; and the DIY aesthetic. I'm definitely buying this on DVD.

I liked it:
This was a fun DVD. Not War & Peace but a good, fun view at the life of Cynthia. She is talented and sweet and very driven about her "art". It is art and it is her unique art that is true to the spirit she has. I like her, or what I get to see of her in this DVD. I say anyone who buys it will be happy with it.

fascinating look into the mind of a strange person:
I didn't know what to expect when I picked this one up. I've heard mixed reviews about Plaster Caster, but I'm a big fan of reality shows and "slice of life" documentaries, so I decided to check it out. I'm happy to report I was pleasently suprised! Ms. Plaster Caster is an interesting, funny, talented, and often pathetic person. There's no question she's an odd duck, but she sure does keep interesting company! Oddly enough, for a movie about reproductive organs, the film has little to do with adult activities (only one breif moment with an on-camera casting.) It was also nice to see the late Noel Redding (Hendrix bass player) in one of his last interviews. The pace of the film moved along quite nicely and when it was over I felt I wanted more. The good news is, there is more! The DVD is loaded with plenty of interesting out takes, including funny footage with Wilco's Jeff Tweedy and an L7 "chest" casting sequence. I also liked the photo galleries and the Cast-O-Rama rotating cast gallery! With this feature you can have Plaster Caster's art (both boy and girl) loop on screen for infinity, if one chooses. Great conversation video at parties! I feel this documentary is worthy of a long hard look. (sorry about that, but I couldn't resist!)

Pretty good but...:
I liked this DVD but I was not impressed. When you can draw like Miss Caster you should persue some sort of craft. This casting thing is unique and cool but it isn't paying the rent for her. She still gets $100.00 dollars a month from her mother who she calls the warden. Very sad. She is a very likable person in the DVD. Almost sweet. It is really nice when she gets her "show" in New York City but the buck stops there. Where is her life going? It got frustrating. Someone with so much talent needs to get some self respect and self worth. I am a huge fan of Miss Pamela Des Barres. Maybe she should help Ms. Caster get her book done. I would buy it and read it. Miss Des Barres is a good writer and Ms. Caster could benefit from a bit of work ethic. Miss Pamela?? She could use your help.

Exegi monumentum:
Van Gogh nailed a canvas to a hay-wagon in his zeal to paint a wind-whipped landscape. Proust wrote hundreds of pages of prose in pursuit of a single memory. Cynthia Plaster Caster strives to capture an even more elusive and prized phenomenon than her artistic predecessors. For some thirty years, she has been creating life molds of the erect (or, sometimes unavoidably, semi-erect) penises of rock stars. Early in the film, Cynthia makes it clear that she is not a "size queen." Her generous, appreciative spirit is only one of many things that makes this film a celebration of diversity the likes of which are seldom seen. As the film follows her through two castings (one substantially more successful than the other), the passion and logic of her quest uplifts the soul as much as it titillates the mind and body. While the salt-of-the-earth heroine only grows in our estimation, any grist for post-modern irony has to be shaved off the backs of the run-of-the-mill freaks who surround her. Aging stars like Eric Burdon are seen first in blurry, hairy 60's snapshots, then as sagging, eyebrow-penciled wrecks reminiscing about their groupie years. A procession of preening young rockers, draggy hangers-on, pretentious gallery types and callow publicists underscore the point that C.P.C. is by far the most fulfilled, together, and focused person in her circle (with the possible exception of her attorney). She is that rare, heaven-anointed artist who never doubts her path for a second, and even gets to achieve her dream of a New York gallery show. The final, wildly successful casting session, shown in bravely orgasmic detail, is the best argument made for art in a movie since Charlton Heston saw his Sistine ceiling materialize in the clouds in "The Agony and the Ecstasy."