Call Her Applebroog

Experimental filmmaker Beth B profiles New York artist Ida Applebroog in this affectionate profile for which Jim Coleman, Beth's husband, provides an electro-jazz score. In an archival interview, Applebroog says that she grew up in a rigid, religious Polish household in the Bronx, where she learned very early on “how power works." With her short grey hair and round black eyeglass frames, Applebroog is a lively 87-year-old, much of whose art comes from journals that she's kept for years. In a German exhibit, enlarged entries line the walls, while volunteers walk around with sandwich boards featuring specific quotes, such as "Screw Mother's Day." Other works include paintings, puppets, and short films, but no matter the medium, her journals provide the raw material, although she gets a little defensive when the director asks her about them. "What do you want me to tell you?," she exclaims in frustration, "I have no answers!" Although she comes across as a solitary figure, Applebroog married in the 1950s and had four children, but was always engaged in creating art of some kind. After marrying, she took her husband's name, Horowitz, but later renamed herself Applebroog, a variation on her birth name, Applebaum. She ascribes no special meaning to the suffix, except that it allowed her to make a fresh start. Applebroog's work, which incorporates nudity and profanity, is provocative, but also ambiguous. "I'm more interested in doing something to the viewer," she explains, "than saying something to the viewer." Interesting footnote: while never mentioned in the film, Beth B is Applebroog's daughter. Serving up a warm portrait of an intriguing artist, this is recommended. Aud: C, P. (K. Fennessy)