An Interview With Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns Director A.J. Schnack

by Jeremiah Kippp

John Flansburgh (left), director AJ Schnack (center) and John Linnell in Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns, a Cowboy Pictures Release.

Do we need to know everything about an artist in order to appreciate their work? Many creators resist easy theorizing about what goes into their work. Yet there’s a long literary tradition scrutinizing what movement these pop culture heroes emerged from. With a cult audience of college rock enthusiasts obsessively lining up to their shows, the alternative band They Might Be Giants gets their own biographic concert documentary in Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns.

If you ever wanted to know how front men John Linnell (the introspective one) and John Flansburgh (the showy one) came together as an artistic duo, here’s the movie for you. Gigantic tracks them from their hometown of Lincoln, Massachusetts to their 1980s performance art antics in the East Village. Early music videos and rough-hewn concert footage make this required viewing for their legion of fans. They’ll appreciate the revelatory interview footage where Linnell and Flansburgh, happily sipping coffee in front of their beloved Williamsburg waterfront, discuss what each of them bring to the table as artists. It’s good-natured navel gazing.

Those unfamiliar with the Giants may likewise enjoy this breezy foray into their music, with cartoon detours along the way by Tony Millionaire — whose Drinky Crow cartoon character from NY Press makes a cameo appearance — as well as comedians and actors like Janeane Garofalo, Michael McKean, Andy Richter, Harry Shearer, and Annette O’Toole reciting the Giants’ lyrics with mock-thespian seriousness. Those go nicely with the documentary-style talking head celebrities speaking in earnest about what The Giants mean to them. It’s a worthwhile history lesson for the uninitiated, and there’s plenty of rocking concert footage to show off the melancholy lyrics and upbeat musical tempos of the band’s witty and occasionally obtuse songs. They Might Be Giants has always prided themselves on their “aw, shucks” candor, their braininess, and their goofball charm.

Though the two Johns seem to really mean it, their fans can occasionally be too much. Imagine the indie rock version of Trekkies, dwelling on pointless minutiae about the band and hidden meanings encoded in their songs. The fans also have a tendency to pat themselves on the back for getting the band’s jokes; something this documentary occasionally lapses into with its grab bag of Giants-style false starts, weird digressions, and gonzo journalism reporting The Legend. Love it or hate it, it’s representative of They Might Be Giants: the men, the legend, and the music.

But if Gigantic were simply hero worship, it would be no more significant than an MTV puff piece. Director A.J. Schnack has an attachment to these rock heroes that’s palpable, not because of their celebrity but because of their integrity. As an independent filmmaker just starting out, he found their dedication and perseverance inspiring. They Might Be Giants may be a band some have outgrown, which can explain why their audience seems to be in 17-year-old rotation, but their sense of style and moxie gives that disaffected youth a sense of purpose and a feeling of belonging. If Gigantic amounts to hero worship from the loyal, at least they picked their heroes well.

John Flansburgh (left), and John Linnell in Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns, a Cowboy Pictures Release.

Filmmaker: Did you go to film school?

A.J. Schnack: I went to the University of Missouri, with a major in broadcast journalism. After graduation, I moved to Los Angeles and did odd production jobs, finally working at a company that was doing music videos. At the time, I was really into indie rock [bands] like Superchunk, Velocity Girl, and Pavement—so I wanted to do videos for them. But the budgets were really low, so I left that company and started my own, where we specialized in the low-budget indie rock videos that I liked. I was producing for a couple of years. Eventually, I started directing my own projects, including a short narrative film [called Might As Well Be Swing, inspired by Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice].

Filmmaker: When you moved out to Los Angeles, did you see yourself as being part of the music or film niche, or some combination of both?

Schnack: I wanted to be a director but didn’t know how. I didn’t go to film school and figured I just had to learn everything, so I worked on all kinds of projects. I always had a big love of music, so the videos made sense. It combined the two interests.

Filmmaker: When were you struck with the idea of making Gigantic?

Schnack: In early 2001, I had finished my short film and gone to film festivals, which is an exciting experience. They make you want to go out and do something else, like make your next film. Since I had a background in journalism, I was open to the idea of doing either a narrative or non-fiction film. A week after attending one of these festivals, I went to a They Might Be Giants show here in L.A. There were things about the show that got me thinking about them in career terms. It was an appealing idea: a film about what makes them unique, and a way of showing how they got to where they are.

Filmmaker: Did you made the film to pursue your own interests, or to give something to the fans?

Schnack: My idea was to reach an audience who didn’t know who The Giants were. The idea of what they’re doing is so different from most other bands, and that’s worth examining. It’s a movie more like The Cockettes, for example: a cool, cultural, creative troupe—or group—or whatever , that the majority of America might not have heard of. It’s about creative people doing things in a creative way. I was hoping fans wouldn’t hate it, but was also hoping for a larger audience.

We’ve been fortunate to play several festivals before opening in New York, and have had the opportunity to interact with different audiences. We found if we had two screenings at any given festival, fans would buy out the first one. The second tended to be people with a festival pass. Without fail, there’s someone out there who says, “I’ve never heard of these guys, I didn’t know anything about them, but I’m going to go find their albums.”

Filmmaker: What made you decide to make a film about this band, though? What was it about them that spoke to you?

Schnack: The Giants are true independent artists, doing something very unique in the indie rock world. As an independent filmmaker, I was curious how they were running their operation. How were they able to keep doing that for 20 years? How do they work together? How did they preserve this symbiotic relationship that they’ve had since grade school? I thought that was interesting to explore on an artistic level, but just on a fun level it was great to speak with people that I really like, like Sarah Vowell, Michael McKean, and Janeane Garofalo.

Filmmaker: It was interesting having these actors and comedians doing deadpan recitations of the Giants’ lyrics.

Schnack: That was part of my initial idea. We had to find a way to emphasize their lyrics, which are as important — if not more so — than the music. By performing the lyrics as poetry, I figured it would emphasize the content of their lyrics. Also, it was a way of getting us into the world of The Giants rather than having famous people talk about why they like them. We already have plenty of that in the film.

Filmmaker: It seemed appropriate that you didn’t ask The Giants direct questions about their songs.

Schnack: There’s an element of mystery to it, even to them. We spoke about their lyrics, sometimes fairly explicitly. That shows up in the movie, but not always where you’d expect it. Neither of them have had anything really disastrous to happen to them in their lives. The dark subjects they tackle come out of the performance art world that they came from, and also the aftermath of the ’60s. Maybe they don’t know why they are actually interested in the things that interest them. They approach it in more of a figurative way. Gigantic does contain material that’s personal for them that they hadn’t talked about before — specifically in how they work together and how they feel about each other.

Filmmaker: Were they receptive to having a camera team follow them around?

John Flansburgh (left) and John Linnell in Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns, a Cowboy Pictures Release.

Schnack: Yeah. Initially, they didn’t understand why I thought making a film about them was a good idea. They said, “Why us?” But once I told them what I wanted to do, I was around and they got used to me. I think they were into it. For Flansburgh, it wasn’t so much about looking good on camera as much as — in the back of the mind — he hoped we were getting really good stuff. Linnell was curious about what my process was going to be, purely out of intellectual curiosity. He asked me questions about other documentaries, not just music ones either.

Filmmaker: Did you find other music documentaries helpful or inspiring?

Schnack: I watched a ton of them. There were some I knew well, and others I saw for the first time. My approach was to create a mix of styles. It wouldn’t just be a performance piece, or historical, or cinema verite. We wanted a lot of different flavors and ideas in it.

Filmmaker: Let’s talk about the structure. Did the order of the songs matter?

Schnack: No, the songs were wholly contingent on the other structures. We had two chronological stories happening: the story of the making of their album Mink Car, and the band’s 20-year history. Those go back and forth. The music naturally fell into place, but there is a section toward the end where they’re leaving their major record label. It seemed appropriate to use their song “Until My Head Falls Off” because certain lines made you think of them not quitting.

Filmmaker: You also chose to present the concert footage in a straightforward way. Not flashy.

Schnack: Yes, that was the intention. Some people might think, because of my video background, that I might be flashy about that stuff. I actually hate the way most performances are shot these days. Either a band is exciting to watch or they’re not. Having these cameras on cranes zooming around bores me. I wanted to do a very low-key camera set up for their performance and just let it be as it was.

Filmmaker: By starting off with footage of Senator Paul Simon, you seem to be saying, “This is not a typical documentary. We will take some strange turns.”

Schnack: I think They Might Be Giants have an element in themselves where some people hear them and say, “What the hell was that?” Especially in early in their career, where it was like a strange detour in your mind. I wanted to set up very early that it wasn’t going to be a straight documentary, and that it would be a reflection of their universe.

You asked before about the fans, and that was like a tip to them. The fans are aware that there are all these connections…like “Lincoln”. Not just Abraham Lincoln, but that they’re from Lincoln, Massachusetts; the fact that their second album is called Lincoln; that their manager’s middle name is Lincoln; and that they both drive Lincoln Continentals…. there’s this iconography that runs through their work. That was acknowledged.

But I also liked the idea of people thinking they walked into the wrong theater or popped the wrong tape in by starting off with Senator Paul Simon. He’s actually a friend of my family, too, so it was a way for me to put a personal stamp on the material. He’s not inherently funny, but there’s something about him that lets you know there’s humor coming.

Filmmaker: The Giants fans can be pretty obsessive. How did some of them respond to the film? Sometimes they’re portrayed as a little…

Schnack: Crazy? [laughs] The ones who have seen it think it’s a pretty right-on, true representation of their world. They don’t seem too sensitive to the idea that they’re a little over-the-top. The girl who says she met her fiancée at this They Might Be Giants show, her husband e-mailed us and said, “Thank you so much, the movie’s great, and it’s so great that she’s in it.” I think they’re all OK with us. The “crying girl”, as we like to call her, saw the film and seemed overwhelmed that she would be in the same movie as her beloved Giants. I think they have a decent sense of humor about being so obsessed.

Filmmaker: Did you touch base with Linnell and Flansburgh after they saw the film?

Schnack: Yeah. We premiered it at South By Southwest, but felt it was only fair for them to see it before the general public. We arranged a private screening. I hadn’t told them anything. I was nervous about their reaction, but not half as nervous as they were. “What if this guy we like has screwed up our life story, and we hate it?” But they were blown away…more by seeing all of those people, many of whom they hadn’t seen in a long time, talking about them. It was a real This Is Your Life experience. It felt like a big surprise, and they were very kind about letting me work independently on this and not asking for any control over the finished project. They were equally generous in their time about promoting the film, so I think they’re happy.

Jeremiah Kipp is a freelance journalist based in NYC.