This is what director David Lynch told actor Russ Tamblyn while shooting a key scene for the original Twin Peaks in an attempt to get the right reaction. And it worked. I vividly recalled that scene, and man, Russ Tamblyn was all kinds of spooky looking, obviously thinking about ghosts.
It’s these great little tidbits that make Room to Dream such an enjoyable, and often weird, read for fans of surrealist extraordinaire David Lynch – a man who seems like he must have had a tragic, horrible upbringing to be able to tap into such pain and darkness, yet seemingly didn’t (by any account, his or another). Here is a man who had a Norman Rockwell upbringing only to obsess over the seamy underbelly of the white picket fence world he both loved and railed against.
The semi-autobiography has alternating mirrored chapters (it is eerily its own doppelgänger) about the same events – one from the point of view of David Lynch’s friends, family, and colleagues and then one from his point of view. It is long and rambling and very detailed. Though none of the back-stories on the productions of his films were previously unknown to me, someone who has studied and read about Lynch for decades, I especially enjoyed those walks down memory lane to Philadelphia and the Eraserhead days. The meat of the book is in those delicious little tidbits and the altered views of what happened…Lynch sometimes disagrees with (or doesn’t remember) what the others say happened. Continue reading →
When that final gut-curdling scream rang out on that oh-so-familiar street in front of that oh-so-familiar house in that oh-so-familiar town from our oh-so-familiar anti-heroine, just as I had after every other hour, I raced to my laptop to churn out my blog post without much thought. I was a bit flippant, and ill-tempered, as that newly settling frustration of Lynch pulling the rug out from under us (again) was just beginning to simmer, and in my post (and haste) I wrote off the whole series to that Lynchian trope of being caught in an endless loop of suffering from which you can never escape no matter how hard you try. And I still basically stand by that assessment…but oh, Twin Peaks, you are both just that and so much more. Much like life itself, you are a walking contradiction. A mirror unto yourself.
Now I’ve had time to digest the finale and read all the wonderful (and eloquent and thoughtful) theories out there in the media and on fans’ feeds. And I agree with them all. Those theories are mirrors of my own thoughts. Nothing I write about here hasn’t been thought of by someone else who already wrote it down (and probably more astutely conveyed). Continue reading →
In Her, all we heard was Scarlett Johansson’s voice – that husky, alluring, beautiful voice – as she played Samantha, an Operating System that fell not only in love with its owner, but in what it means to be human. In Jonathan Glazer’s adaptation of Michael Faber’s novel, Under the Skin, it’s Ms. Johansson’s body that is on display (her voice used sparingly, awkward and British when she picks up her victims on the street) as she portrays a nameless alien come to earth to lure men into an inky goo (for what purpose we can only imagine from director Glazer’s fantastically bleak and otherworldly images). She is an alien that eventually succumbs to that same Samantha trap – she can’t help but become fascinated by what it means to be human. What egotistical creatures we humans are that we constantly have to fantasize about the “other” – be it artificial intelligence, gods or aliens – going completely gaga over us – as if we’re the greatest thing since sliced bread…or chocolate cake, as in one heartbreaking scene that probably has made every female audience member gasp, poor Scarlett is a cursed creature that can’t even enjoy THAT…a piece of chocolate cake. Oh, if only she could be human and enjoy that damn slice of cake!
Yet Mr. Glazer and Ms. Johansson lured me into the trap with master precision. The film is directed with a doctor’s scalpel with every image, every dissolve and overlay, every light, every tone, every musical note (from Mica Levi’s extraordinary score that sets a new bar for the discordant musician turned film scorer, Jonny Greenwood and his ilk) perfectly composed. The packaging of this boring ages-old-tale and self-obsessed human fantasy is so disarming…so transfixing…I didn’t care what it was about. Continue reading →
Denis Villeneuve’s Toronto-set artsy psychological thriller, Enemy (based on Jose Saramago’s novel, The Double) is one of those rare films of exacting creeping style that elicits audible gasps from the audience. Jake Gyllenhaal plays a mild-mannered university history professor who repeatedly lectures about the dangers of losing one’s individuality under totalitarian regimes and muses over the cyclical nature of history and the rise of these totalitarian states – first viewed as tragedy, later as farce. The man oddly hates films, but he’s urged by a colleague to watch one in particular, and there he spots in a bit role as a bellhop his exact double. It’s not long before he becomes obsessed with tracking down his doppelgänger.
The first audible gasp (coupled with nervous laughter) was unique to the location where I saw the film. Enemy is boxed in by mesmerizing sepia-toned cinematography – grand scanning images of the Toronto skyline (never before used more monotonously menacing in a film). For those who have never been to Toronto, it’s a blisteringly modern landscape riddled with areas constantly under construction, giant cranes towering in the sky dangling precipitously over highway off-ramps next to skeleton frames of new office or condo highrises. Villeneuve (Canada’s premier auteur) perfectly captures this along with the city’s cold lakeside white-washed sheen (either by salt and snow in the winter, or heat in the summer – tinged deliberately yellow here by his camera). I had the luck of seeing the film while working in Mississauga, Ontario – a suburb of Toronto with its own unique skyline (highlighted by the famous Marilyn Monroe Towers, surreal condo highrises with hourglass shapes) also featured in the film. I experienced it at a Cineplex in downtown Mississauga right down the road from those lovely towers. When Jake Gyllenhaal’s character discovers the home address of his exact double to be on Rathburn Rd. West (unbeknownst to me prior to this in-film revelation, the very road upon which we sat watching the film!) the laughter and gasp from the small audience was priceless, and I suddenly felt as if I was a part of this unnerving conspiracy as I could see Jake Gyllenhaal’s double’s apartment from the parking lot of the theater! Continue reading →
Werner Herzog once ate a shoe on camera after losing a bet.
Nicolas Cage starred in Con Air…and 8MM…and Ghost Rider…and not one, but two National Treasure films. The list of travesties could go on and on…though I jest the National Treasure films; they are good family fun even though they are so sloppily put together.
Clearly both men are insane.
Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (henceforth referred to as BLt: PoCNO) is a film to watch not just for the decent into bizarro world offered up by a collaboration between German Auteur Herzog and Hollywood Movie Star Cage, it’s a film to savor for all of its layers of interesting elements. Continue reading →
David Lynch’s latest cinematic mind bender, INLAND EMPIRE, was finally released on DVD this Tuesday, August 14th after a brief, enigmatic, and very limited run in theaters, where Lynch personally distributed the film in true independent fashion much to the frustration of many of his fans who never got the chance to see the film theatrically. The film is sure to please his cult of fans, and for the first time ever, he has released a DVD full of 2nd disk extras including vignettes of him cooking, talking about ideas and film and music, clips of his passionate hands-on style of directing on INLAND EMPIRE, and discarded scenes from the film.
Taking the murderous jealous husband theme of “Lost Highway” and melding it into the dreams of a tortured actress theme of “Mulholland Drive,” David Lynch fluidly immerses his recurring dark fantasies into a story revolving around a Polish-Gypsy legend and a cursed movie production and delivers his most experimental film since “Eraserhead” with his epic three-hour “Inland Empire.” Continue reading →