Lynch's Affinity for Laura Palmer (Fire Walk With Me conversation w/ Tony Dayoub - Part 4 of 4)

This is the final entry in my four-part correspondence with Tony Dayoub of Cinema Viewfinder. We are discussing Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me on the film conversation site To Be (Cont'd). [That site has since gone inactive, but my pieces are available in full on this site and Tony has re-published his on his own site as well - links to all are collected here.]

Three weeks ago I kicked off the conversation with my first entry, "Twin Peaks is Dead - Long Live Laura Palmer!". Tony followed up with "From Poetry to Prose in Fire Walk With Me" and I continued with "Back Door to the Black Lodge".

Lynch's Affinity for Laura Palmer

by Tony Dayoub

Joel,

David Lynch hasn’t released a full-length theatrical feature since 2006’s Inland Empire. This offers us some perspective on his filmography and Fire Walk with Me’s place in it. It’s but the first of a series of films depicting a woman whose dual nature is a signal of internal dissonance. What most intrigues me is how jarring it feels compared with his work up until then, a considerable achievement given the almost mischievous disdain Lynch has for traditional narratives. Even though he started his career with Eraserhead, a stubbornly surreal work, his next two films–The Elephant Man and Dune–both strike me as stabs at legitimacy, a director bringing his unique vision to projects which might allow him mainstream success. Blue Velvet, which looks at the frighteningly dark underbelly of shiny, wholesome small-town America, is the first work that truly feels Lynchian. Then comes TV’s Twin Peaks, which continues along those lines. And right before Fire Walk with Me, Lynch directs Wild at Heart, a noir romance that hints at Lynch’s penchant for the surreal intruding on reality, this time in the form of characters from the movie The Wizard of Oz.

Read the rest of "Lynch's Affinity for Laura Palmer" on Cinema Viewfinder, where Tony published it after To Be Cont'd went inactive.]

Back Door to the Black Lodge (Fire Walk With Me conversation w/ Tony Dayoub - Part 3 of 4)

This is the third entry in my four-part correspondence with Tony Dayoub of Cinema Viewfinder. We are discussing Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me on the film conversation site To Be (Cont'd). [That site has since gone inactive, but my pieces are available in full on this site and Tony has re-published his on his own site as well - links to all are collected here.]

Two weeks ago I kicked off the conversation with my first entry, "Twin Peaks is Dead - Long Live Laura Palmer!" and Tony continued with "Poetry Becomes Prose in Fire Walk With Me".

Tony,

Entering the world of Fire Walk With Me for the first time, I was thrilled by its air of uncertainty. Lynch's rhythms and images provoked and perplexed me: the static-filled TV set where we would expect the show’s opening theme song; the plastic-wrapped corpse of Teresa Banks floating downstream, unclaimed and unloved; the FBI meeting in a skimpy Oregon airfield, sour-faced Lil (Kimberly Ann Cole) offering coded information via a wiggle, stitch, and blue flower. And then we were off to Deer Meadow, to investigate Teresa's murder. You've already described the Bizarro World qualities of Twin Peaks' doppelganger town, but perhaps even more unsettling than what Lynch shows us there is how he introduces us to it.

Poetry Becomes Prose in Fire Walk With Me (Fire Walk With Me conversation w/ Tony Dayoub - Part 2 of 4)

This is the second entry in my four-part correspondence with Tony Dayoub of Cinema Viewfinder. We are discussing Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me on the film conversation site To Be (Cont'd). [That site has since gone inactive, but my pieces are available in full on this site and Tony has re-published his on his own site as well - links to all are collected here.]

Last week I contributed my first entry, "Twin Peaks is Dead - Long Live Laura Palmer!".

Poetry Becomes Prose in Fire Walk With Me

by Tony Dayoub

Joel,

I was not one of those fans who felt that the show quickly “descended into camp,” as you put it, with the resolution of who killed Laura Palmer. Like Special Agent Dale B. Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan), I was so in love with the town and its denizens that I relished any tangent from the relatively straight line David Lynch and Mark Frost had so far led us along. Remember, Lynch and Frost had never meant to resolve the mystery, hoping instead to use it as a backdrop for spinning off other storylines, like a traditional soap. Sometimes, these tangents went nowhere, or at least nowhere of interest–most notoriously in the very noirish storyline where James Hurley (James Marshall) is seduced by a femme fatale and set up for her husband’s murder. Other times, I was as delighted as the show intended viewers to be, no matter how silly the subplot (yes, I admit that I adored the inane romance between Lana and Mayor Milford). Staunch supporter that I was, I enjoyed how sprawling and diffuse the show’s mythology had grown–Black and White Lodges, Bookhouses, dwarves, giants, owls and all.

Read the rest of "Poetry Becomes Prose in Fire Walk With Me" on Cinema Viewfinder, where Tony published it after To Be Cont'd went inactive.]

Next - Part 3, my response: "Back Door to the Black Lodge"

Twin Peaks is Dead - Long Live Laura Palmer! (Fire Walk With Me conversation w/ Tony Dayoub - Part 1 of 4)

Throughout May, I will be taking part in an ongoing conversation on the website To Be (Cont'd) with Tony Dayoub (of Cinema Viewfinder) about the film Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992). There are major spoilers involved. The conversation will unfold in four parts, as is the usual format on To Be (Cont'd). [That site has since gone inactive, but my pieces are available in full on this site and Tony has re-published his on his own site as well - links to all are collected here.]

•

"When you told your secret name, I burst in flames, and burned..."
-"Floating", written by David Lynch, 1989

Tony,

Let's talk about the final day of Laura Palmer's life. Not the night with its cocaine binges, woodland orgies, and bloody murders, but the morning before, as depicted in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992). Remember that soggy bowl of cereal, abandoned by the trembling teenager while her father tries to cheer her up? Or Laura's jittery mother steeling herself with a cigarette, her blank, exhausted inner state almost as ugly and jagged as her daughter's raw wound? And who can forget the ferocious hatred in Laura's eyes, years in the making, as she growls at her astonished father in her bedroom: "Stay...away from me..."? By the time we are submerged in Laura's woozy afternoon at high school, her disorientation overpowers us. Swooningly subjective dips and pans, time-lapsed clocks intercut with blurry crowds, high-angled perspectives pinning Laura to a ground that is sliding away beneath her feet...if these are not the most adventurous techniques David Lynch has ever employed, they are among his most compassionate. We've burrowed deeply into Laura's consciousness, losing ourselves on a death trip that few were willing to take.

Reading Spielberg

Revised 4/30: Good news - I've just received an update from publisher John Pruzanski, offering readers of this blog a 20% discount on the guide (click on the link to access the discount page).

When I was 7 years old, I fell in love with "the movies" - no longer harboring affection for just certain movies, but for the cinema as a whole. There were several factors in this infatuation, but the biggest factor may have Steven Spielberg. In this, I'm hardly alone and therefore it's appropriate that I join around 70 other contributors to take part in the massive Take 2 Guide to Steven Spielberg e-book compilation. This incredibly rich tome spans nearly 800 pages, and collects contemporaneous reviews from authors like Jonathan Rosenbaum (did you know this famed Spielberg skeptic actually offered a rave review of Schindler's List on its premiere? I didn't, until I scanned these pages), extensive blog entries, interviews with the filmmaker, and material written exclusively for this volume. Publisher John Pruzanski selected six of my pieces for inclusion: on Jaws, E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial, The Lost World, and Lincoln, plus a dual review of Schindler's List and Munich and a piece on the DreamWorks cartoon How to Train a Dragon which mentions Spielberg's influence.

Check out the Take 2 Guide to Steven Spielberg here

The Hero We Didn't Know We Needed: a conversation with Jared Drake, director of Visioneers & the upcoming Mack Luster

For a brief moment in the dystopian comedy Visioneers (2007), disgruntled office worker George Washington Winsterhammerman (Zach Galifianakis) plunks himself down in front of the television, hoping to smother his ever-growing anxiety with a soothing escape. Instead, he's confronted with the televised antics of a deranged action hero, Mack Luster (Ryan McCann), valiant and violent opponent of "Chayos" (the film's name for the free-floating unease destabilizing this placid world and causing people to literally explode). Assaulting rather than protecting the innocent (the "villains" include a terrified old lady and a little girl with ice cream), Luster provides an amusing subversion of 80s action hero cliches. He's a grinning, muscled-up do-gooder who clearly believes his antisocial actions represent some glorious triumph over evil.

This scene (which you can watch on YouTube) was tangential to the rest of the film, yet Luster's over-the-top antics proved popular with viewers and stuck with the film's director Jared Drake. Drake decided to spin the character off into his own story, Mack Luster, but with a twist. No longer simply the symbol of a world gone crazy, the Mack Luster of this new project will be the only sane person onscreen, a reminder of what was valuable and lovable about 80s action heroes. He's a throwback to an age of older, less self-conscious American icons and his sincerity make him a fish out of water in the present - albeit one we sympathize with. Drake plans to turn the Visioneers version of Luster on its head, preserving the "awesome cheese" quotient while encouraging us to laugh with, rather than at, our hero by the end of the movie.

I was contacted by Jared as he prepared to launch his Kickstarter campaign; while I haven't been doing many interviews lately, this concept - and Drake's intentions behind it - piqued my curiosity (plus Jared grew up in the Twin Peaks hometown, a bit of synchronicity given my slew of upcoming Peaks and Lynch). Via a 90-minute Google chat, we discussed his film Visioneers, his decision to place an 80s icon in the present and the philosophy behind that, and why he's chosen crowdfunding and sees it as the future of filmmaking (this was one of the most fascinating parts of the discussion for me - I believe that when it comes, the next Easy Rider or Star Wars-type game-changer will drop online, not in theaters). If you'd like to support the Mack Luster campaign, or just find out more, it launched today:

Mack Luster on Kickstarter

Son of Man

The best depiction of Jesus Christ onscreen is also, alas, one of the least-known (type its title into IMDb, and you'll wade through five higher-ranked results). Dennis Potter's feverish 1969 teleplay Son of Man depicts the most famous and celebrated figure in the history of the world as a dirty, half-mad prophet trembling in the wilderness and bellowing at his followers, with nary a miracle in sight (when Jesus performs an exorcism, the woman in his arms appears to die). Yet as depicted by a fully-committed Colin Blakely, this ferocious wild man is among the most charismatic and compelling Christs I've ever seen: fascinating in his forceful delivery and admirable in his consistency, responding to slaps, goads, and outright torture with a determination to practice what he preaches by "loving his neighbor." Given that these neighbors include the cunning high priest Caiaphas (Bernard Hepton) and the flagrantly cruel and condescending Pontius Pilate (Robert Hardy), this is no small order. This Jesus gets no relief, no reward - there is no happy ending, no Easter Sunday resurrection following the Good Friday execution. He moans those famous words, "Why have you forsaken me?", expires, and the lights dim while the camera pulls back.

The Wolf of Wall Street

It's hard to place Martin Scorsese's mercurial The Wolf of Wall Street, a (mostly?) true tale of the corrupt, greedy, and eventually imprisoned financier Jordan Belfort (Leonardo DiCaprio). Hard to place in several ways - most obviously, the film's tone embraces straightforward rise-and-fall dramatics, social satire, and broad comedy, while the slipperiness of its moral outlook, both conventionally disapproving and hedonistically exuberant, has been elsewhere duly noted. More intriguingly, the film seems to float above history: while it begins identifiably in the late eighties (Jordan Belfort's first day as a licensed broker is even alleged to be Black Monday) and occasionally touches down on specific cultural phenomena (like Steve Madden's bobble-headed girl ad campaign) at no point does the film really riff on a zeitgeist. Technological and fashion changes are often present as details but aren't foregrounded as in Goodfellas; also unlike that film the soundtrack is an alternating mashup of hip-hop, rumba, and whatever Scorsese feels like playing in a particular moment, rather than a reflection of character and/or cultural development. Most of all, I can't really place the purpose of the movie. That's not necessarily a terrible thing: spry, termitic filmmaking is often more successful than the heavy-handed elephantine approach. Yet here this makes for an enjoyable but occasionally alienating and mystifying viewing experience. I liked The Wolf of Wall Street, particularly certain sequences worthy of Scorsese's legendary oeuvre, but I didn't love it. On first viewing, it seemed a film of many accomplishments but little depth.

The Sides of March: #iPodAlbumPlaylist, March 2014

March was definitely the month of music. I listened to forty-two albums, but also spent a lot of time listening to songs rather than whole albums (often favorite tracks on the albums I had just discovered). For the first time in over a year, I added to my collection: eight albums by month's end, including much recent hip-hop. Because this was the month of songs as much as albums, I'll list thirty tracks I recently added to a playlist of favorites:

Dark Fantasy (Kanye West) • All of the Lights (Kanye West/Rihanna/Kid Cudi) • Lost In the World (Kanye West/Bon Iver) • Runaway (Kanye West/Pusha T) • Monster (Kanye West/Jay-Z/Rick Ross/Nicki Minaj/Bon Iver) • Gorgeous (Kanye West/Kid Cuti/Raekwon) • Backseat Freestyle (Kendrick Lamar) • Sherane A.K.A. Master Splinter's Daughter (Kendrick Lamar) • Money Trees (Kendrick Lamar/Jay Rock) • Swimming Pools (Drank) (Kendrick Lamar) • Bitch Don't Kill My Vibe (Kendrick Lamar) • Poetic Justic (Kendrick Lamar/Drake) • DNA (Danny Brown) • Fields (Danny Brown) • Toss It Up (2Pac/Danny Boy/KC & JoJo) • To Live and Die in L.A. (2Pac/Val Young) • Krazy (2Pac/Bad Ass) • Brooklyn Zoo (Ol' Dirty Bastard) • Run (Air) • Walking on Air (King Crimson) • More Than Distance (Telex) - skip to 4:10 • Your Silent Face (New Order) • Right Where It Belongs (Nine Inch Nails) • Lake of Fire (Nirvana) • Falling (Julee Cruise) • Questions in a World of Blue (Julee Cruise) • Rockin' Back Inside My Heart (Julee Cruise) • The World Spins (Julee Cruise) • Mysteries of Love (Julee Cruise) • Just You (James Marshall, Sheryl Lee, Lara Flynn Boyle)

Here are covers, info, and favorite tracks for all the albums I listened to in the past month. You can also follow my listenings on Twitter, scan my last playlist or look at all previous round-ups on this blog.

"It is happening...again": Images from an episode of Twin Peaks

A visual tribute to episode 14 of "Twin Peaks"

(there are definitely spoilers)

The Future of Lost in the Movies: status update, March 2014

"Ah, the democracy of Hollywood Boulevard - 4 stars in a row: 
Humphrey Bogart, Johnny Cash, Tab Hunter, Auguste Lumiere"
(from a recent tweet)

I've made promises before, but usually by setting goals before determining methods. Now, I've finally reversed that process. So I can't say when it will occur, but I can tell you what to expect on Lost in the Movies over the next few years. First off, from now on I will be posting once a week, every Monday at 7am: sometimes book or music round-ups, sometimes visual tributes, but mostly good old-fashioned movie reviews, as I discuss many films featured in clips and images on this blog but not (as yet) in prose. I plan to cover the underseen Dennis Potter teleplay Son of Man during Holy Week, but otherwise my schedule is undetermined.

Meanwhile, beneath the surface, behind the scenes, I'll be drafting hundreds of entries in several series. No series will appear until the final entry has been written - at which point they will unfold in a regularly scheduled manner over many months. This work includes resuming the Neon Genesis Evangelion episode guide, and the "Favorites" countdown of my 100 favorite films list. I had planned to discuss those titles from memory but recently decided they need rewatching. Thus completion will take longer than expected - perhaps not until 2015 (especially since my list includes very long films like Satantango and Out 1, which I won't watch in a single sitting).

Further down the line I have other ideas: a "Collection" series which would thoroughly review every DVD or VHS tape I own - probably presented in 365 entries over an entire year; a year-by-year formal analysis of popular films and shifting mainstream film styles via numerous video essays; finally, my much-discussed canonical series in which I would examine about 150 films in multiple entries varying in both focus point and style (prose, video, and image analyzing form, content, production history, my own personal connection, etc). I've been proposing that one since 2009, so we'll see. At any rate none of these series would even begin to be posted until at least 2016 or 2017, probably longer.

I can confidently predict these eventual manifestations - if not forecast the dates of their appearance - because I've finally found a blogging system that works; indeed, I've discovered a schedule to not only manage my blog but all my extracurricular work. On Saturdays, I will spend a minimum of four hours blogging and a maximum of four hours engaged in other ongoing tasks (to wit: an hour on the King James Bible, an hour reading Time cover stories from past decades, an hour visiting other blogs, and an hour completing any unfinished business that doesn't have an immediate deadline). Sundays I get up early and write creatively (or at least, allow myself no distractions from writing) for eight hours. The rest of the week I am free to read, watch the occasional movie or TV episode (mostly the latter nowadays), go out, or relax. What I can't do is blog, or work on anything other than filmmaking. This not only liberates me from self-imposed pressures, it also makes me more productive in the time I do allot for ongoing activities.

The system is imperfect, of course: it doesn't yet make much room for video essays (which is where I really want my blog to go), plus whenever I initiate my "Collection" series I'll have to find more time for watching and writing, probably on certain weeknights. Overall, though, I've been using this schedule for a few months and it's by far the most effective approach I've found for multitasking. Most importantly, this approach clears the deck for screenwriting and eventually filmmaking, while keeping my blog alive as a potential platform for that work.

For now, expect something new every week. I hope you'll enjoy the results as much as I plan on enjoying the process.

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The more things change...: A collage/catalog of Forrest Gump

I've always been obsessed with cataloging experiences, creating variations on a theme, and juxtaposing change and consistency against one another (as well as viewing characters changing against historical backdrops, and maturing from one age to another). As such, I can't help being endlessly fascinated by Forrest Gump. It is chock-full of repetitions, variations, catalogs: sometimes droll, sometimes somber, sometimes sentimental. Below I've included nine image-compilations as examples; if you want to see larger versions of these pictures, click on the image.