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There Will Be Blood *****
Mulholland Drive ****
The Savages ****
For Christmas this year, my brother gave me a box set of Twin Peaks, that wonderfully eccentric late-80's television series that began as a murder mystery and ended up as, well, there's some confusion about that. As I've been watching and re-watching episodes from the series, I've found myself on a kind of David Lynch jag, revisiting some of his earlier films and seeing others for the first time.
I suppose most people either love Lynch's directing style or find it needlessly obtuse and self-indulgent. Those in the latter category will find no joy in Mulholland Drive, a moody tone poem that offers nothing like a straightforward narrative, but offers much in the way of tonality and imagery that many contemporary films lack. If it's meaning you're looking for, there have been several attempts to find it, most notably in this lengthy review from Salon. I tend to prefer Roger Ebert's interpretation of the film as a collection of evocative scenes, and enjoy the film as I would a full-length album. With the best albums, one finds that different songs may stir different feelings, but collectively the songs contribute to a dominant mood or theme (listen to Springsteen's Nebraska, U2's The Joshua Tree, or Radiohead's OK Computer).
The scenes in Mulholland work in that way. I find myself less interested in "making sense" of the film than in just going along for the ride and, more engagingly, thinking about how masterfully Lynch manipulates the viewer's emotions. On a similar note, Lynch's choice of two absolutely gorgeous actors, Naomi Watts and Laura Elena Harring, easily captivates the attention of moviegoers who enjoy looking at beautiful people. Lynch complicates this easy pleasure with, as you might expect, disturbing and frightening and just plain goofy images and scenarios. Mulholland Drive is perhaps not the best film to choose for a night of casual viewing, but those with an addiction to Lynch's unique combinations of image and mood will find much to celebrate here.
A few years ago, I watched a man slowly die in a "rehabilitation" center, a facility that he had little hope of leaving. Parapalegic and beset by a series of health problems, he died at a relatively young age, surrounded, for the most part, by people working their day jobs with little time for an old man. This experience resurfaced while watching The Savages, a film that finds a surprising amount of humor, love, and even joy in the process of placing a loved one in what will likely be the last building they ever occupy. The initial appeal of the film to me was its cast. Laura Linney (who's been nominated for an Oscar for her role in the film) and Philip Seymour Hoffman portray over-educated siblings whose somewhat lonely routines are interrupted by the news that their father--living with his elderly girlfriend in the retirement community of Sun City, Arizona--has taken to writing on the bathroom walls with his own excrement. From there, the film takes the viewer on a sometimes hilarious, sometimes sad, mostly poignant journey as the siblings confront the state of their familial and sexual relationships while their father begins the last stages of his life in a generic rest home.
Doesn't exactly sound like a date movie, does it? And yet, the film resists the easy sentimentality of its subject and becomes a story more about renewing one's life than ending it. A small gem, with excellent performances by the cast.
The film miraculously appeared (and is currently still playing) in St. George, a town not generally known as a mecca for independent cinema. All that has hopefully changed now with the arrival of the Salt Lake Film Society in St. George, and the society's "takeover" of a slightly rundown 4-screen mall cinema. They have my eternal thanks and regular patronage, and now I may get to see more films like The Savages before they are released on DVD. Woo-hoo!
Mulholland Drive ****
The Savages ****
For Christmas this year, my brother gave me a box set of Twin Peaks, that wonderfully eccentric late-80's television series that began as a murder mystery and ended up as, well, there's some confusion about that. As I've been watching and re-watching episodes from the series, I've found myself on a kind of David Lynch jag, revisiting some of his earlier films and seeing others for the first time.
I suppose most people either love Lynch's directing style or find it needlessly obtuse and self-indulgent. Those in the latter category will find no joy in Mulholland Drive, a moody tone poem that offers nothing like a straightforward narrative, but offers much in the way of tonality and imagery that many contemporary films lack. If it's meaning you're looking for, there have been several attempts to find it, most notably in this lengthy review from Salon. I tend to prefer Roger Ebert's interpretation of the film as a collection of evocative scenes, and enjoy the film as I would a full-length album. With the best albums, one finds that different songs may stir different feelings, but collectively the songs contribute to a dominant mood or theme (listen to Springsteen's Nebraska, U2's The Joshua Tree, or Radiohead's OK Computer).
The scenes in Mulholland work in that way. I find myself less interested in "making sense" of the film than in just going along for the ride and, more engagingly, thinking about how masterfully Lynch manipulates the viewer's emotions. On a similar note, Lynch's choice of two absolutely gorgeous actors, Naomi Watts and Laura Elena Harring, easily captivates the attention of moviegoers who enjoy looking at beautiful people. Lynch complicates this easy pleasure with, as you might expect, disturbing and frightening and just plain goofy images and scenarios. Mulholland Drive is perhaps not the best film to choose for a night of casual viewing, but those with an addiction to Lynch's unique combinations of image and mood will find much to celebrate here.
A few years ago, I watched a man slowly die in a "rehabilitation" center, a facility that he had little hope of leaving. Parapalegic and beset by a series of health problems, he died at a relatively young age, surrounded, for the most part, by people working their day jobs with little time for an old man. This experience resurfaced while watching The Savages, a film that finds a surprising amount of humor, love, and even joy in the process of placing a loved one in what will likely be the last building they ever occupy. The initial appeal of the film to me was its cast. Laura Linney (who's been nominated for an Oscar for her role in the film) and Philip Seymour Hoffman portray over-educated siblings whose somewhat lonely routines are interrupted by the news that their father--living with his elderly girlfriend in the retirement community of Sun City, Arizona--has taken to writing on the bathroom walls with his own excrement. From there, the film takes the viewer on a sometimes hilarious, sometimes sad, mostly poignant journey as the siblings confront the state of their familial and sexual relationships while their father begins the last stages of his life in a generic rest home.
Doesn't exactly sound like a date movie, does it? And yet, the film resists the easy sentimentality of its subject and becomes a story more about renewing one's life than ending it. A small gem, with excellent performances by the cast.
The film miraculously appeared (and is currently still playing) in St. George, a town not generally known as a mecca for independent cinema. All that has hopefully changed now with the arrival of the Salt Lake Film Society in St. George, and the society's "takeover" of a slightly rundown 4-screen mall cinema. They have my eternal thanks and regular patronage, and now I may get to see more films like The Savages before they are released on DVD. Woo-hoo!
posted by Chazzbot at 10:15 AM
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