David Lynch Friday #3 – Dune

Where should I start? Laborious? That is a great word to describe this film. It feels completely at odds with the rest of Lynch’s filmography. You can feel the stress hanging over this production due to the financial responsibility of the endeavor. There are also constant disparate touches throughout the running time which leads me to believe that there was constant studio interference throughout the production schedule. Dino DeLaurentis has spoken candidly about this in the years that followed the film’s release. He wishes they had just let Lynch loose to interpret the material in his own way instead of trying to be as faithful to the book as possible.

So, does anything work?

If you’re asking me as the child who saw and loved this movie upon release, yes, lots of the film works. It was my first Lynch experience and I didn’t even know who he was — I was a kid. I watched Dune, the Star Wars trilogy, and Raiders of the Lost Ark constantly. Now, as an adult, I can see the film for the difficult mess it is. So we will begin with the good. The creature designs are great and they hold up surprisingly well nearly forty years later. Production design is extravagant and generally well designed if not a bit plain in some spots. Costume design follows this same pattern. A real highlight of the film is the score, still great all these years later. My favorite moment in the film is our introduction to Harkonnen. It’s pure Lynch horror and really the only time we feel his personality ringing through — this and Lynch squeezing in his superimposed images, that is.

What doesn’t work?

Everything else. They tried to be too faithful, to an embarrassing degree. The film opens with the superimposed image of Virginia Madsen’s character literally explaining the plot and the players to us. Not great. I will say that I’m beginning to think we live in a simulation with only so many available assets. Brad Pitt has to be a clone of Robert Redford and Scarlett Johansson has to be a clone of Virginia Madsen — there can be no other answer. Back to the film and the problems multiply from here. Every single character explains everything to everyone else in the film. There is nothing but exposition in this film. The characters even narrate their own thoughts. Everything flies in the face of the rest of Lynch’s work. He’s never been one to explain anything and here, there’s nothing but explanation — for over two hours.

What this reminds me of is Zach Snyder’s valiant Watchmen effort. I admire the film and his swing at it but it was at once over-stuffed while feeling like a filmed outline. Some stories aren’t meant to be translated to film. Again, Watchmen is a perfect example. HBO released a limited series inspired by Watchmen last year to great acclaim. I, for one, loved it. What Damon Lindelof and his crew accomplished was extraordinary but they accomplished it because they used the original source material as a jumping off point to something unique instead of rehashing what we already know. Perhaps Dune would be better served as a prestige television project. We’ll never get that because there is a new film version releasing next year. It looks slick and boasts incredible talent both in front of and behind the camera. But it also looks like a faithful attempt. This all serves to point out how much of a miracle Peter Jackson’s Lord Of The Rings trilogy turned out to be. That should not have worked and now it’s the gold standard. Perhaps the exception that proves the rule.

I really don’t have much more to say about this without it turning into a rant but this will assuredly mark the low point of Lynch’s filmography. The only other thing I could note is that the cast is littered with people who would go on to star in Lynch’s magnum opus: Twin Peaks. Next week, one of my faves, Blue Velvet. Until then, love each other.

David Lynch Friday #2 – The Elephant Man

Remember when I said how surprised I was that Lynch could get money for more work in the wake of Eraserhead? Well, it turns out, he could not. After Erasherhead was out in the wild, Lynch wrote a script titled, “Ronnie Rocket.” The script was shopped everywhere and nobody was interested. Lynch called a friend and asked for work directing someone else’s script. He was pitched, The Elephant Man and immediately jumped at this opportunity. The script found its way into the hands of Anne Bancroft (who would end up playing a role in the film) who then showed it to her husband, Mel Brooks. The picture was on but Brooks had no idea who Lynch was and so asked for a screening of Erasherhead. Lynch figured this would doom him. Upon exiting the screening, Brooks ran to Lynch and said, “you’re a madman, I love you, you’re in.” The Elephant Man would go on to receive eight Oscar nominations, including direction and adapted screenplay for Lynch himself. They would win zero but not shabby at all for a second feature.

The film opens with circus music as Anthony Hopkins’ character makes his way through a backstreet sideshow. Lynch pulls no punches from the beginning. He is putting the onus of this story on us, the audience. What will we make out of this? He cloaks each scene in alternating bright light and deep, husky shadow. The black and white photography is gorgeous, at once offering itself as a vessel for seedy territory and of 19th century elegance. Lynch is obsessed with depicting the ugly side of industry. He comes back to this over and over again throughout the film. Progress cannot happen without creating downtrodden to step over. It’s a vicious cycle.

Anthony Hopkins plays Doctor Frederick Treves, who hears of this Elephant Man and manages to secure himself a private viewing. We receive the initial shock of the deformed man’s appearance but Lynch is smart to only show two quick glimpses and then focus the rest on Hopkins’ face. The doctor perhaps came for a thrill but now wants to help the deformed man, named John Merrick (real name was Joseph Merrick). Treves gets Merrick to the hospital and subjects him to a thorough examination in front of an auditorium of his colleagues. Merrick remains hidden to our view throughout this process. Lynch instead opens this examination by pointing the camera directly at us, the audience. The light clicks on — shines a light on our own soul. The examination ends and we’re POV with the camera once again — shutting down. Some would say the camera snatches the soul. Well, we are now complicit. Again, what do we want out of this? Lynch chooses to hold our feet to the fire, illuminating (quite literally) how we view some in our society monsters based on appearance and nothing else. It is society that is the monster — an ever hungry and feeding beast. Perhaps, Lynch is enlightening us as to what fame can be like for those in the constant crosshairs of a society who loves to build people up only to revel in their eventual fall from grace.

The way Lynch shocks us with the first glimpse and then hides Merrick’s appearance for a while gives off an illicit vibe. Are we sure we’re ready for this? And by that I mean are we ready to plumb the depths of our own souls? Once we’re complicit, we are fair game. We’re then forced to make a choice. Merrick will now be depicted plainly to us — no longer hidden. Merrick is blossoming due to kindness and our reactions are ours to own.

The depiction of John Merrick by the late, great Joh Hurt blows me away every time I see this film. It’s so physical yet delicate. His mannerisms and speech are deliberate and nuanced. Nearly any other year and Hurt waltzes away with the Oscar but unfortunately he lost to DeNiro’s mind-melting performance in Raging Bull. Anthony Hopkins, for his part, has this way of speaking that seems as if we’re always hearing his innermost thoughts. I have always loved this about him and here, he is so restrained and composed in his performance. Legend.

There is a famous line form this film when Merrick is being chased through the train station as he attempts to return to the hospital. It reads:

I am not an animal. I am a human being. I am a man!

It’s a great line and delivered with the perfect mixture of anger and anguish by Hurt. I would, however, like to point out two other lines that speak to the enormous heart Lynch has and has infused all of his work with.

Anne Bancroft says the following after reading some Shakespeare with Merrick:

You’re no Elephant Man at all. You’re Romeo.

She then kisses him on the cheek and Merrick cries. I cry. My heart is nearly as full as Merrick’s heart in this moment. But we’re not done because upon his return to the hospital and Treves is busy apologizing to Merrick for not better protecting his patient and friend, Merrick stops him with this:

I am happy every hour of the day. My heart is full because I know I am loved.

Dead. I’m dead. This beautiful fucking film has executed me.

Now, it’s no secret in the film that due to his increasing deformities, Merrick is not long for the world. He knows this as well. The last we see of him is him removing the pillows on his bed so that he may sleep like a painting hanging in his room. We know he will die because of this. He knows he will die because of this. He looks at the picture of his mother that rests on his bedside table — his most cherished possession. In fact, his mother looms over the entire film, at once his antidote to a cruel world and also a bit of an albatross that keeps him hanging on. Merrick finally lets go and as he dies, he sees a vision of his mother. She calls to him and tells him everything will be fine. And delivers one final line:

Nothing will die.

A perfect ending.

Not many films can claim this but The Elephant Man is such a film.

Next week, the very first Lynch film I ever saw as a child, Dune. Until then, love each other.

David Lynch Friday #1 – Eraserhead

Eraserhead. Been awhile. Like much of Lynch’s work, Erasherhead benefits from time and exposure. The more time you spend with the film, the more you will get out of it. This was Lynch’s feature film debut, way back in 1977 and in the spirit of total honesty, it’s a miracle anyone saw this film and then decided to give Lynch money to make a second feature. This isn’t a knock on the film, it’s a wonderfully complex work and supremely assured for a debut feature but the film is also a nightmarish puzzle box. It is not easily digestible and at times it’s even a bit offensive to the senses. Lynch is challenging his audience right out of the starting gate, a trait that will never abandon him.

Watching it again now, after Lynch was able to revisit Twin Peaks, it’s clear that there is a lot here that either exists in the same universe of Twin Peaks or at least the universe of the Black Lodge. Erasherhead will be a major talking point when we wrap this project up with the sure-to-be massive post featuring everything Twin Peaks. For reference:

The apartment lobby floor is the same as the Black Lodge.
Electricity is prominently displayed throughout the film.
The electric, old-fashioned humidifier looks a lot like Phillip Jeffries.
The tree growing in Henry’s apartment looks exactly like THE ARM from the Black Lodge.
There is also a small photo of an atomic bomb explosion next to Henry’s bed.

So yeah, we will be revisiting all of this because I feel like I am on the verge of some new, mind blowing Twin Peaks revelations. But we will get back to that at a later date.

One of the themes of Erasherhead is that of parenthood and specifically fatherhood. The opening scene with Henry’s face superimposed over some kind of cosmic egg is an easy to grasp metaphor for the paranoia of parenthood. Lynch loves the technique of superimposing and still uses it to this day as a filmmaker. Jack Nance also has a face made for closeups — I swear it’s as malleable as clay. It says, “what have I done?” This could also be Lynch working through his feelings on birthing an idea and creating life in art.

An undervalued aspect of Lynch’s work is how funny it often is. Erasherhead is full of body horror and psychological torment but it’s also hilariously uncomfortable. Lynch uses black and white photography to cloak the film in shadow, like there is a looming, negative force overseeing everything. This also serves to exude a silent film vibe. It’s like if Charlie Chaplin were cast in Nosferatu. I love this. The dinner scene where Henry visits his girlfriend’s family is uproariously creepy. Everything is there to be considered normal but it’s all heightened enough to be off. The catatonic grandmothers cigarette. The tiny chickens and enormous carving knife. Then comes the blood. Then comes the tiny chicken seizures. Later on, Henry literally loses his head and some kid runs over and steals the severed head. Again, wild and hilarious. The kid then sells the head to the pencil factory where they turn it into a literal eraser head. I am not making this up.

So, what could this all mean?

There is more than just a singular theme — this is true for all of Lynch’s work. Sure it’s about fatherhood but it goes deeper. It touches on how children are our soul transferred into a new being all while being born of our own faults and demons. It’s also about how alien-like babies are and Lynch establishes this in the most heightened way possible. Lynch is also commenting on nature versus industry. We are inundated with images of machinery and general industry encroaching on and diminishing nature. Lynch then gives us plenty of background scenery depicting nature attempting to reclaim its place by invading the characters’ homes.

This brings me to one final conclusion: Erasherhead is very spiritual. Lynch drives us through an intense white light and I think he’s depicting how birth and death are the same. He then pushes us through a soupy mess and into a puddle that turns into a black hole. This is him differentiating between duty and desire — daily life and intense lust. I’ve also contemplated the possibility that the barnacled man is Henry’s grown-up son who has trapped his father in some kind of nightmare purgatory of his own creation. It’s like an eternity being forced to live through all of your own failings.

In the end I think that part of the film is Henry’s subconscious shown to us as real life. Henry is full of self doubt and this is best represented by the baby. The infant is a slimy, hideous creature who resembles ET in the worst possible way. Here’s the thing: the baby doesn’t actually look like how we see it. The baby is a manifestation of Henry’s self doubt. Parents worry, especially with newborns, that there is something wrong with their child. Their baby is different in a bad way. It’s a trick the mind plays on its subject. This is where Erasherhead leaves us, with Henry attempting to free his child by murdering it — killing his self doubt. Lynch hits out at life as an all encompassing process.

Birth. Life. Failure. Sex. Duty. Murder. Death.

Next week, The Elephant Man. Until then, love each other.

David Lynch Friday #0 – The Intro

My first experience with David Lynch was watching Dune as a child. I loved it. Now, I know that isn’t exactly the popular opinion with that film but it certainly mesmerized me. I also recall my parents watching The Elephant Man and then Blue Velvet. I specifically remember Blue Velvet because my mother thought it was crazy in a good way and my father thought the exact opposite — not at all his type of movie. Next was Twin Peaks. I was about ten years old when Twin Peaks came out. My mother was excited and I was already a huge fan of detective stories. To me, a new show from the guy who did Dune, starring the guy from Dune, and it was sort of a detective story? Yes please.

As I grew older, Lynch faded from me for a bit. I began my true obsession with his work when I was in high school. This was the jump off and I never looked back. I’ve devoured his work ever since and have loved it all, even when I hated it. There was only one film of his that I missed completely, The Straight Story. Disney Plus rectified that for me and now my only blank spot is Inland Empire. For the record, I’ve watched it, just not all the way through. I have a blu-ray waiting for me and I’ve revisited the Rabbits in the years since. I’m looking forward to it now.

This is what I cherish about Lynch’s work — it is uncompromising. Even when Twin Peaks returned, there were moments that drove me up the wall but I have learned to trust Lynch’s process and have found rewards at every turn. He is my favorite. He’s been my favorite for a long time and only recently challenged for the title by Sofia Coppola. We’ll see how this all holds upon this new revisiting of his oeuvre. Typically, I would focus solely on feature films but Twin Peaks in it’s entirety will be thrown in here because it is my absolute, number one, favorite thing ever. I will also be breaking the timeline and holding Twin Peaks for the very end. There is a chance that week will see my largest post ever. I always have a ton of thoughts on Twin Peaks and there is not a day that goes by without me thinking about the show.

Here we go. The David Lynch project will begin with Eraserhead next Friday. Until then, love each other.

Sofia Coppola Friday #8 – The Recap

It’s the end of the line. I’m sad to let these films go for now but the beauty of art is that it’s never fully gone. Art exists all around us and even within us. Great art stays somewhere deep inside for us to draw from whenever we want or need. This project I’m embarking on with some of my favorite filmmakers has been even more rewarding than I initially thought. I’m learning things about myself that were previously hidden or unobserved. Growth is always a good thing.

With that said, let’s recap what we’ve learned from Sofia Coppola’s films.

First, she is a filmmaker who always has something to say. She makes you do the work but her message is ultimately always clear. Her films are never stagnant — they don’t just exist, they live. She is frequently inspired by depicting the reality of celebrity and tabloid culture. This makes a ton of sense considering she grew up in one of the most famous Hollywood families our generation has ever seen. Coppola is also consumed with dissecting the pitfalls of love and lust and the need to be loved. She also knows that love and obsession are completely different — this is a distinction a portion of our population routinely fails to make.

Sofia Coppola is a confident filmmaker. In fact, she’s one of the most confident filmmakers working today. Everything in her films always works in concert in order to present her specific vision. Her work is so real. How does she accomplish this? First, her dialog is always great and perfectly matched to what each film requires. This is no easy fete. She has to match her writing to the film’s tone and subject matter while also delivering something unique to not only each character but the actors portraying those characters. This is the secret sauce for a screenwriter and most aren’t nearly this good. It’s part of what makes Quentin Tarantino’s scripts so amazing. People jump to obvious conclusions about how “cool” it is and they try and mimic that. Hollywood then becomes inundated by bad imitators. No, the great ones, (and Sofia Coppola is definitely one of the great ones) match their writing with what is required and only what is required. This brings me to another aspect of why her films are so universally great: her ability to cast to the role. I will argue that this is actually a super power. Last, her needle dropping is on point. I spoke about this a few weeks ago and it bears repeating: she makes the best use of pop songs in her films. That’s it, nobody else does it better.

Now, what I’m most excited to get to is a realization I made as I rewatched her first six films. Sofia Coppola has created a trilogy of sister films. For the record, all of her films have aspects that either resemble or build upon previous work but there is more. First, On The Rocks is the odd one out. Being her newest film, it has yet to find it’s sibling. We’ll just have to see what Coppola cooks up for us in the future before revisiting. As for the other six, they break up like this:

The Virgin Suicides and The Beguiled are a perfect pair. Coppola revisits material dominated by men. TVS is based on a book written by a man and The Beguiled is a remake of a film starring Clint Eastwood. Coppola takes these stories and either reframed them around the women involved or alters the focus so we concentrate on the women and their own daily lives. Both films are about young women living under strict rules while blossoming into adults. They are curious and sheltered but possess ferocious spirits. They will leave their mark upon the world.

Lost In Translation and Somewhere go hand in hand. Both films center around men who are at sea. Both men are world famous actors but at different points in their careers. In some ways, Somewhere feels like it could be a prequel to LIT in relation to their respective main characters. Both films are unafraid to explore the ennui fame can bring with it and the trappings it holds. They also each center around a hotel that serves as a sort of prison for its inhabitants. The characters are constantly searching for a way break out and run free and that metaphor cuts deep.

Marie Antoinette and The Bling Ring belong together. These two films are Coppola’s most celebrity obsessed. Both are based on true events and real life people. Both are stories of celebrity and tabloid and excess and depression. These two films get under our skin more each time we revisit them. She digs deeper into motives of why these people would choose to either do these things or live this way. They both also deal with the youth revolting against norms and then suffering the consequences set upon them by the populace.

This brings me to the end of this particular section of my project. What have I learned? Where my first filmmaker I studied, Terry Gilliam, unearthed new observations that make me think less of him as a human being, Sofia Coppola has only grown in my estimation. She is my favorite Coppola. I said what I said. Not only that but she has climbed the mountain and reached the summit. Sofia Coppola now stands shoulder to shoulder with David Lynch as my favorite filmmakers. I can’t choose right now. Perhaps we will have to do David Lynch next.

Now to the rankings:

7 – The Bling Ring
6 – The Beguiled
5 – On The Rocks
4 – Marie Antoinette
3 – Somewhere
2 – The Virgin Suicides
1 – Lost In Translation

Next week, we’ll lay the groundwork for the next chapter in this project. Until then, love each other.