Tag: depression

2021 In Film

Every year, I take the month of January to catch up on as many of the films I missed throughout the year as I can. This post/list/sleep aid is the result of my annual maniacal start to the new year. And yeah, I realize it’s nearly February but the academy has only begun their own voting process. So shhhhhhhhhhhhut it.

One of the final films on my list to see was Spielberg’s remake of “West Side Story.” This one always seemed like a bad idea. Why remake something widely regarded as a stone cold classic? Now, specifically for me, West Side Story holds a special place in my heart. This was a family film for me growing up. Both my parents were fans and showed the film to my brother and I beginning when we were still pretty young. For my mother to be a fan was no surprise. She liked cool things like Martin Scorsese and David Lynch.

Quick side note: My mother really was my introduction to two of my all-time favorite directors in the two aforementioned gentlemen. As a small kid, I was really into Star Wars. I also loved to read and so my mother figured I’d like Dune. That was my introduction to David Lynch. I didn’t just watch movies, I would also read the boxes in the rental store and study the opening credits. Dune was based on a book and so I immediately had respect for it, lol. It was directed by David Lynch and I knew that was super important because it was the final name listed. Okay, Dune rocked this little kid’s socks and Lynch was on the radar.

I was still too young to really dive into Lynch though, lmao. I remember my parents renting Blue Velvet and me trying to sneak into the hallway to catch some of it because I was most definitely not allowed to watch that one yet myself. Next up was Twin Peaks and I remember my mom being really into the show and though I didn’t understand a lot of what was going on, it was Lynch and the guy from both Dune and Blue Velvet and so I watched some of it too. Those who know me know that in the years since, Lynch has established himself as my all-timer and Twin Peaks rivaled perhaps only by LOST as my favorite piece of visual entertainment ever.

But I digress.

We were discussing 2021 in film and I just whisked us away to the 1980s for two separate tangents. Back to tangent number one. The real kicker was that my father loved West Side Story. “But dad, it’s a musical.” My father was always your prototypical country boy tough guy. He was happiest watching Robert Redford trudge through the snow for three straight hours. He loved Chuck Norris and shit like that.

And…a musical?

Yep.

So West Side Story was the rare treat where the entire family could bond over something we all pretty much equally enjoyed. My skepticism of the remake remained for a long time. Yeah, I know it’s Spielberg and he’s responsible for my favorite film of all-time. Hell, He’s responsible for probably two of my top three films of all-time. Double hell, he’s probably got a half dozen films in my top twenty five. What the hell was I worried about?

Spielberg hasn’t seemed like himself in a long time. A loooooong time. In recent years, it’s felt like he’s either lost the rhythm or the joy. Well, even if it was only for one film, he regained it all back because the West Side Story remake is an absolute triumph.

This triggered another thought: Man, I haven’t seen “The Outsiders” in a long time. And I’m happy to report that in recent years, Coppola has revisited his film and added scenes back in — scenes deemed unnecessary to the runtime when originally released. Adding these scenes back in allows the story to focus on what was always most important: the relationships between these damaged and sensitive boys. It helps show the macho antics as armor and the giant rumble near the end of the film as the useless exercise in toxic masculinity that it always was. If you haven’t seen the film before, or haven’t seen it in a long time, first read the book. Always read the book. But then go ahead and check out “The Complete Novel” version of the film. I think you’ll be glad you did. (The courtroom scene is still hilariously terrible though)

And now, several million words into this manifesto, we have the films of 2021. First off, 2021 electrified me as a film lover way more than 2020 did. These twenty five films I liked quite a bit and there are fifteen more that I’ll add on at the end that I also really enjoyed. There are at least seven films on this list that I love enough to have already purchased on disc or plan to — maybe more. But enough is enough and it’s time for the list.

1. DRIVE MY CAR – This is the most recent film I’ve scene and caused me to completely rewrite everything about this list. (Full disclosure: I always anticipated this though) The moment I read about this film coming out of Cannes, I was in. The trailer was great and it was based on a short story by Haruki Murakami, one of my all-time favorite authors. Still, I was blown away by the humanized beauty of what I saw for three hours the other night. The film is full of moments where humans are human and that’s all. It’s simple and profound. It will make you smile and laugh and cry real, deep, emotional tears. A film about the highs and lows of life and how trying to subdue yourself into the middle road can lead you nowhere. Cigarettes hanging out of the sunroof. Those who’ve seen it know what that means.

2. C’MON C’MON – A film where Joaquin Phoenix plays a documentarian who is tasked with taking care of his young nephew for a few weeks. Until I finally saw Drive My Car, this was firmly at the top of my list. Joaquin Phoenix is everything anyone could ever want in an actor. His range, both intellectual and emotional, is fucking limitless. He is as good an actor as I have ever seen and this may be my favorite ever performance from him. Another film about human beings trying their best to be human beings. And another film that made me weep.

3. THE GREEN KNIGHT – Art. This film is like an interactive art exhibit come to life. Mesmerizing and deeply strange and perfectly told. Every single shot in this one feels like it could hang on the wall of a museum. Seriously dropped my jaw. Dev Patel is one of the most underrated actors working today and I hope he and David Lowery continue making art together.

4. WEST SIDE STORY – My favorite Spielberg film since…I don’t even know? Munich (seriously underrated Spielberg) or Minority Report? Nah, it’s better than those. Saving Private Ryan? Nah, I think I prefer this to that one as well. Schindler’s List? Okay, maybe there’s the line. Still, that was nearly thirty years ago but also marks the moment where I feel like Spielberg became a bit more serious and eventually his worked suffered as the message began to smother the joy of the work. For me, he recaptured nearly all of the joy and cleverness from his 70s and 80s output with West Side Story. It’s only sad to me that it released during a pandemic where a ton of new eyes have yet to find it.

5. THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH – The best adaptation of this work I have ever seen. Another jaw dropper. Minblowingly beautiful for every single second of it’s runtime. Joel Coen laid waste to anyone even thinking of adapting Shakespeare. Someone asked me: How was Denzel? And I was like: The fuck? I just told you to see this at all costs, that it’s a masterpiece and Denzel fucking Washington is playing Macbeth. How do you think he was?

Okay, I wasn’t quite that mean about it but for real? It’s Denzel and yes he crushes it. CRUSHES it. Also, Corey Hawkins delivers what should be a star making performance in this as Macduff.

6. LICORICE PIZZA – Paul Thomas Anderson has yet to make I film I haven’t dug. I feel like he’s one of those filmmakers whom I occupy the same mental wavelength with. Licorice Pizza is no different. There’s been a ton written about this film already and I disagree with a lot of it. I can see where the criticisms are coming from but I personally feel like the film was aiming at something totally different. I’m not going to get into it all here — maybe later, around late March perhaps? But this was maybe the funniest film of the year. Cooper Hoffman. This was his first film? Alana Haim. This was her first film? Jesus Christ these two had insane chemistry together and total command over every scene. And there’s Bradley Cooper who gave this year’s most hilariously over the top performance. Every single second of Cooper in this is a riot. He damn near steals the entire film in about four scenes. Another future purchase for me.

7. THE POWER OF THE DOG – The first third of this film, I thought Campion had seriously miscast the role of Phil Burbank with Benedict Cumberbatch. Whoops. Jane Campion deserves to win every directing award handed out for her work on this film. I’m glad to see she was nominated by the DGA already. “The Power Of The Dog” unfolds like a really great, challenging book (which it was based on). Campion sets each scene with precision and every actor in the film each give subtle yet profound performances. This one surprised me.

8. NIGHTMARE ALLEY – Bradley Cooper again! I’m a huge fan of Guillermo Del Toro. He’s on that list of: show me nothing just tell me where to be and I’ll see it. Nightmare Alley is like a rotten onion of a movie where each layer gets peeled back to reveal a little bit more of the worst of mankind. It’s marvelous and the most gorgeous movie of the year. Also my favorite film score of the year. Also easily the best final scene of any film this year. Fucking haunting.

9. THE FRENCH DISPATCH – I love Wes Anderson. And this was maybe the most Wes Anderson film Wes Anderson has ever made. It’s almost like he could sense someone was about to make a “Wes Anderson type” film and said to himself: well, allow me to set the bar a little higher. Loved it. Give me more. I hope Bill Murray lives forever.

10. PIG – The surprise of the year for me. I’m a huge fan of Nicolas Cage. He never stops and more importantly he’s never stopped giving a damn about his work. He is always “all-in.” If you’re a filmmaker and just hired Nicolas Cage, you’re getting 100% of him. I have an immense amount of respect for Cage exactly because this is his outlook. He’s amazing. And “Pig” ended up being a completely different film than I thought it would be, albeit a much better film. It completely subverts genre conventions and plays with the dead carcass of those old thoughts. Plus, this is the best Nicolas Cage performance in DECADES. Hey Academy voters, nominate him you cowards!

11. RAGING FIRE – Donnie yen. Nicolas Tse. Abandoned church fight with a sledge hammer. You’re welcome.

12. DELIVER US FROM EVIL – Operatic violence only the way the eastern hemisphere can deliver these days.

13. BOILING POINT – Single camera shot drama about the owner/chef of a restaurant on a busy night. Stephen Graham is one helluva actor.

14. THE HAND OF GOD – From the director of “The Italian Beauty.” More unbelievable Italian artistry on display by Sorrentino. Another one that snuck up on me.

15. THE HARDER THEY FALL – Jonathan Majors is poised to be a HUGE star. Great dialog. Great cast. Cool as fuck. Great time. Plus: Delroy Lindo!

16. DUNE – Yes I talked about the Lynch version earlier. I realize that wasn’t a great adaptation of the novel. This one is. Epic filmmaking from Denis Villeneuve.

17. VAL – I love Val Kilmer and I miss him being in movies. This was a true treat from one of my all-time favorite actors.

18. Roadrunner – I cried the day Bourdain died and I’m getting emotional typing these words now. I cannot understate how much of an inspiration Bourdain has always been for me. I miss him so much every single day.

19. GODZILLA VS KONG – Big dumb fun with just enough heart. A script that knows to just get out of the way and also that Kong should be a part of the emotional core of the film. What do you want me to say? I love Kong.

20. LAST NIGHT IN SOHO – A weird one for me. Super fun, messy movie. I dug it a lot but still probably my least favorite Edgar Wright film. I’m not dissing it because I’ve liked all of his work and he’s another filmmaker where my only question is: what’s next and where do I need to be?

21. THE SUICIDE SQUAD – James Gunn cracks me the fuck up. He just does. I’m laughing right now thinking about the animation of how King Shark runs. It’s fucking hilarious. I laughed so hard, like three minutes in that I missed the next five minutes. Plus, it’s now spawned the Peacemaker show and that one is pure chaotic joy.

22. CANDYMAN – I like this one. Very pretty to look at. Felt like a cool idea for a legacy sequel.

23. COPSHOP – The attitude on display makes up for anything else this film might lack. Carnahan can be hit or miss for me but this was a definite hit. A good, old fashioned, 70s throwback of a stupid action flick. It’s good.

24. OLD HENRY – Another western? Hell yeah, another good one. I will beat the drum of Stephen Dorff until I die. He fucking rules and he’s a great villain here. Another good, old fashioned film.

25. WEREWOLVES WITHIN – Sam Richardson is one of the funniest people on the planet. He’s currently killing it on After Party for AppleTV+. Formerly killing it on Veep and Detroiters and anything else he’s been in. This is a cool, silly, sarcastic as shit, funny movie.

That’s the top twenty five. And now for fifteen more I enjoyed (in alphabetical order so you know I went to school and shit).

Antlers, Belfast, Don’t Look Up, No Sudden Move, No Time To Die, North Hollywood, Shang-Chi, Small Engine Repair, The Beta Test, The Card Counter, The Guilty, The Last Duel, The Matrix Resurrections, The Super Bob Einstein Movie, Vacation Friends.

I’m tired now. I’ve wasted enough of your time. I’m gonna go do something else now. Next week…I don’t know…I’ll figure something out. Until then, love each other.

Shapes And Colors

When I was a baby, I stared at everything with wide-eyed wonder. Of course I don’t actually remember this but I’ve been told it over and over again, until the story implants itself as memory. The same can probably be said of my first actual “memory” of this world: me sitting on my dad’s lap and watching ET, completely mesmerized. I was only two years old at the time, could I actually remember this? Does it even matter anymore? The story has been with me so long, no matter whether it’s actual memory or not, at some point becomes irrelevant.

My father would always whisper to me, right in my ear, as I stared out at all the beautiful shapes and dazzling colors: what’s that? So much so, that when I was old enough to begin talking, it was a constant barrage of questions about the state of everything around me.

I’m still like that to this day and it’s still incredibly difficult to get me to shut up once I get going. I’ve learned a lot about myself since I made the move from New York to Texas. For one, There’s a rage inside me which fuels me in my daily endeavors, both creative and otherwise. I think I’ve been angry and frustrated at the world and at myself for not being better at handling the world on a daily basis. Writing has always been an outlet, allowing me perspective and time to see things in black and white. But the world isn’t black and white, is it? And it’s reductive to try and force your problems and issues into a singular camp. You’re not dealing with anything, rather, you’re compartmentalizing. When writing wasn’t enough, I’d just sulk and act bitchy with everyone and anyone around me. I’d project my own shit onto them. And then I’d retreat into myself.

My pets have always been the driving force for good in my life. They know. They always know. And they’re always willing to crawl through the storm for me. My pitbull knows that plopping her metric ton head into my lap can burn away nearly all the negativity in a room. She’s magic.

What I’ve learned to do over the course of 2021 is recognize when darkness is descending on me and deal with it head on. Ask myself questions and actually answer them. It’s like a flashlight with the power out — a beacon guiding you home. It’s daily work but it’s good work and it’s worth it.

I stepped away in June of 2021 because I was lost. I didn’t know what to do about anything. Earlier in the year, my wife of eighteen years began having an affair. To call the revelation devastating is an understatement. But what are you going to do? Give up? Quit life? And yeah, I thought about it but what’s even the point of that? You have to be willing to dig deeper and arrive at an absolute truth. Sit there in the depths of the bottom and look around before you look up. My marriage had gotten lazy and communication dried up. We spent ten years in bliss and then her accident changed our relationship — except we never acknowledged that. We carried on for another seven before moving to Texas and Covid hit — changing everything once again. The next year saw us both fall into unacknowledged, un-discussed, and un-dealt with depressions. We reacted differently. I shuttered in and she acted out.

It was easy at first for me to just blame her and be angry and bitter and hurt. She stepped out. But it’s not black and white. And once I looked around there in the depths, I saw my own failures and it was oddly comforting. It was okay because I was still here. Yes, life was going to be different. We separated. She moved out and began a new life with this person. It hurt but it was also okay. Things happen. Human beings are messy and life is hard. Mistakes are just that and sometimes mistakes aren’t even totally mistakes. They happen and then turn into flashlights themselves, showing us a new path. We’ve looked around and now the beam is shining up.

So I got a new job — one I’ve wanted for a long time. A rep for a paint company. I’ve been in the industry now for over twenty seven years so it was about damn time I really put the knowledge and experience to proper use. I crushed the interviews and began with a fervor. Turns out, this job is the EXACT job my entire skill set has been designed for. I’m paid to talk to people and teach them things. It’s a match made in heaven. Hell, I’ve learned about the four main types of people you encounter: talker, supporter, controller, doer. You guessed it, I’m a talker. And talk I must. And talk I do. Everyday. All day. I’ve met tons of awesome people at the five stores I’m responsible for and every day is just a little bit different. I love it and I’m happy again.

And sure, the personal stuff is still there to deal with but we’re finalizing the divorce and it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. There’s no bitterness or anger. Why spend your time holding onto to this resentment — it’s pointless. So I don’t. I smile and think about the great run we had and I allow myself to be excited for the rest of my life. I’m forty-two, there’s a lot left. I’ve met someone new and she’s pretty much the coolest person I’ve met since I’ve been out here in Texas. She gets me and that’s a great head start.

So yeah, I’m back. The writing never really stopped but it did get too sad at one point and then fragmented but soon, the fragments began taking shape once again and the fire began building once again and here they just exploded into shapes and colors.

And I still find them beautiful and dazzling.

Next week, my favorite films of 2021. Until then, love each other.

Poem Or Essay? You Decide

I’m floating
among the debris
all my hopes and dreams surround me
weighed down by my failures and hang ups.

Haven’t been myself for a while
tried so hard to stop every tomorrow from becoming today
lost myself for too long
ignoring all who love me because why?

Because I couldn’t handle what was happening and I didn’t like who I was. And so I shuttered myself in, battened down the hatches, determined to retreat into the cellar. But the storm was already here. It was already inside and I was the one who let it in. At first, it tricked me but soon it was me who was the driving force. I was the storm and I was out searching for anything to destroy. The infection grew to the point where I lost the will to do anything about anything. A feeble acceptance of a faux fate. I couldn’t even recognize my own face in the mirror.

Joy became a four letter word
deception breeds obsession
or is it the other way around?
I wonder.

Words felt like an unending gun fight
punctuation piercing me like lead
and then the unthinkable happened
and I really didn’t know what to do.

I searched for answers but the quicksand caught hold. They tell you not to struggle but something told me to fight. Something told me this was it. All or nothing. Yet I spiraled. Then I prayed. I prayed to a God I’ve never believed in. I did this because I was all out of ideas on my own. All of a sudden I realized that I really want to be here. I really want tomorrow to be today. And so I tried. And then the day after, I tried again.

Failure isn’t to fear
the complex isn’t real
even though it feels like it is
hope always burns brighter.

A piano plays somewhere off in the distance
melancholy yet poignant
pain and joy are siblings
and families love no matter what.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like myself again. The face I see in the mirror is the face I’ve missed this whole time. And I know I’m still floating but my failures and hang ups are floating right there next to me with my hopes and dreams. There’s no longer an anchor because I’m buoyed by love. I know it won’t always be easy and I know that I’m not instantly all better but I’m trying and more importantly, I want to try. Everyday. All day. Each moment is one you never get back. Each moment matters.

Joy spreads
you can find it anywhere
if you know how to look
it doesn’t have to be hard.
Don’t fear the dark
but life needs balance
the equation is always different
but the math is actually very simple.

I choose to love with ferocity. Because the ones who love me back deserve my all. Every ounce. And I’ll gladly give it. Because there’s nothing more important. Every single day is a gift. Every single one is like Christmas morning. The joy is returning, even for the smaller things because when you zoom out, they’re all the same anyway. I am filled to the brim with love but I’ll somehow find a way to make room for more. I want more. I want to give more. I want the work. I want the struggle. I want the satisfaction. I want.

And I’ll shout, “I love you!”
to the ones who matter most
no more hiding from anything
even if a cloak seems inviting.

I was shown a path
bathed in warm light
which kept the darkness at bay
and allowed me to return home.

My 10 Favorite Books Of The Pandemic Year 2020

If there was a silver lining to 2020, we’re still waiting to find out what it was. I’m kidding but not really but we’ll pretend I am. If there WAS any sort of silver lining through the pandemic year, it was that quarantining led to an abundance of time to absorb different forms of art and media. In the next four weeks, I’ll be sharing my favorites in books, television, gaming and film. We’ll start with books and according to my Goodreads, I read sixty eight books and over twenty thousand pages this year. I remember beginning early with Alan Moore’s nearly 1300 page doorstop of a novel, Jerusalem. He’s so talented that I actually think I hate him. I am definitely intimidated by his seemingly limitless ability. I also mixed in plenty of comics, which is nothing new for me. Joe Hill and Gabriel Rodriguez found some extra creative life out of their Locke and Key series and Hill himself released the awesome, Basketful of Heads. We also received the final run of issues for both, Sex Criminals and Gideon Falls. So yeah, 2020 delivered more beautiful art and writing from three of my favorite comic series ever. We also received the first issue of, The Last Ronin, the astonishing new take on TMNT.

As for the rest, I mixed in some nonfiction with my fiction (still skew heavily toward fiction). Read some memoirs like Greenlights and another one which will be on the list. Didn’t get to as many as I would’ve liked but I like to think that those are good problems. Overall, I didn’t really read a bad book this year and that is always a welcome occurrence. Caught up on some of the backlog, read some new stuff and even revisited some old favorites such as The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.

But enough blathering on, these were my favorite reads of the pandemic year 2020.

HONORABLE MENTION: FIND ME by Andre Aciman – The sequel to the beloved Call Me By Your Name catches us off guard by spending the first part of the novel with Elio’s father as he embarks on a newfound journey of love. We then meet an older Elio and eventually catch up with Oliver and it isn’t until late in the novel that the two lovers from the first novel reunite. Regardless, Aciman writes with delicate affection for life and love and he treats us to another special offering.

10. MADI: ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE FUTURE by Alex Di Campi and Duncan Jones – This was a Kickstarter project for a graphic novel that would serve as the final part of a trilogy Jones began with the films, Moon and Mute. Di Campi and Jones create a story that is equal parts heartwarming and heartbreaking while being joined by dozens of the best artists in the business (each drawing approximately six pages of this project) ultimately crafting something wholly unique.

9. ANTKIND by Charlie Kaufman – A book about a film that takes a few months to view. A book about a man losing everything in his life, even his mind. A book about destruction, about hope, about love, about anger, about anxiety, about depression. It’s a big one but we should come to expect nothing less from a man so full of ideas that his first book has almost too many. Somehow, Kaufman may end up on two different year end lists for me this go around. His brain is one of a kind.

8. THE LIVING DEAD by George Romero – The sign off from an all-time great. Romero was still pushing at the boundaries until his dying breath and this novel, his final work, ties off his decades long zombie saga with an insane amount of depth and heart. This is a must read for any horror fans out there.

7. FAIR WARNING & THE LAW OF INNOCENCE by Michael Connelly – So a cheat, I know. Maybe we should instead focus on how it’s possible Connelly can release two books of this ridiculous quality in the same calendar year. First, He finally brought Jack MacEvoy back for those of us who were sorely missing the dogged reporter and this one was a doozy. Connelly’s best villain since The Poet. Second, Connelly released another Mickey Haller thriller and this time, everyone’s favorite defense attorney was tasked with defending himself…in a murder trial. Again, Connelly is supernaturally prolific.

6. BROKEN by Don Winslow – A book of six stories that all represent some broken aspect of the American dream. Winslow not only never disappoints, he’s getting better and more incisive each time out.

5. HOLLYWOOD PARK by Mikel Jollett- A memoir about fathers and mothers and their sons, about abuse, about addiction, about growing up, about losing your shit, about perseverance, about humility, about the grandiose nature of life, a little bit about a cult and a whole-lotta-bit about love. Jollett writes with a painter’s touch — like words aren’t enough.

4. UTOPIA AVENUE by David Mitchell – This not being number one on my list is indicative of how struck I was by the next three novels. Utopia Avenue is a masterpiece. I loved every word. I wish I actually knew these characters, especially Elf. I fucking love her so much. It’s the story of a British psychedelic rock band in the midst of rising stardom in the 1960s. Oh but it’s also about so much more than that. It is the essence of life. It is about a centuries old demon trying to kill one of the characters due to a vengeful blood lust. It’s about a hundred other things. Mitchell finds ways to tie this novel to almost every single other novel he’s written. It’s like a magic trick that brings the reader nothing but joy.

3. CONSIDER THIS: MOMENTS IN MY WRITING LIFE… by Chuck Palahniuk – Chuck finally sat down to write a novel about writing. It’s the most entertaining, helpful, and useful book on writing that I have ever read. It is my new bible and has already helped improve my own craftsmanship. A must read for any writers out there.

2. GOD-LEVEL KNOWLEDGE DARTS: LIFE LESSONS FROM THE BRONX by Desus and Mero – These two have been my saving grace this year. They are, at once, hilarious and incisive. They cut through any and all bullshit while they bullshit. I moved form New York to Texas this year and these two have kept me feeling like home isn’t too far away. Between their show on Showtime and this book, they’ve helped me stay sane. Easily one of the funniest books I have ever read.

1. BLACKTOP WASTELAND by S.A. Cosby – This motherfucker right here. This badass, fucking razor sharp stiletto of a novel right here. Blacktop Wasteland is a crime novel like we haven’t read before. Sure, there are echoes of Walter Mosley and Elmore Leonard in these pages but Cosby isn’t as laid back as those two. No, he wants it all right there, right up front. His characters aren’t just cool, they’re real. This is an important distinction and it’s what separates the pretenders from the contenders. Perhaps this isn’t the best analogy because Cosby ain’t even a contender, he’s got a boot up on that throne. This baby cooks with gasoline from page one, never lets us go and never lets any of its characters off the hook. I haven’t been this excited from my first experience with a writer since I read Ken Bruen’s The Guards. Cosby is that. Fucking. Good.

That’s all I got, folks. Keep reading. Next week will be television (spoiler alert: Desus and Mero pop back up). Until then, love each other.

David Lynch Friday #8 – Mulholland Drive

Lynch originally envisioned Mulholland Drive as part of the larger universe of Twin Peaks. It was a work conceived as a way to further explore the character of Audrey Horne and her adventures in Hollywood and quickly deemed a no go as a new television series. It was later workshopped as a feature and was still deemed a no go. Eventually Lynch reworked his idea into what we would eventually see on screen but upon the ramping up of the production, it was discovered that most of the sets and props had been destroyed. Almost as if the world was gathering to conspire against this project, Lynch and his team got serious and persevered. What we received is, in my opinion, Lynch’s greatest film. A puzzle box of a noir that is more inspired than most anything we could reasonably expect from the genre and one that is constantly more infatuated with the characters over the plot. I have this ranked as the number one film of the 2000s. Let’s dive in.

We open with a town car winding its way around Mulholland Drive with Laura Harring’s character in the backseat. The car stops, a gun is trained on her as she is ordered out of the vehicle. Before that can happen, two other cars careen out of control and one smashes into the town car. This results in the two men up front being killed and Laura Harring’s character stumbling around, concussed. This is THE moment in the film but a first time viewer would not know this yet. The moment is preceded by the camera laying down on red sheets until the camera blacks out. These two moments, placed together, tell the entire story of the film and I love how Lynch always drops the keys to his mysteries right in front of the viewer. This is what makes any Lynch mystery so worthwhile — there are no tricks and no logic leaps. When a viewer returns to a Lynch mystery, they will always have the tools necessary to solve it.

The first half of the film unfolds as a multi-layered classic noir-ish mystery, albeit one where the events we’re seeing are happening all out of order. There is also a heightened sense of reality throughout the first half because what we’re seeing isn’t exactly what has actually happened. The truth is hiding from us and choosing to play a game of peek-a-boo — sometimes literally as we meet death a few times in the film in the form of the person living behind the diner and when that person shows up at the apartment door. One of the keys to understanding the mystery is to give in to it and allow the story to wash over you at first. There are small touches that will stand out. Lynch’s oft used POV shots put us directly in the story. Why would different characters get POV shots? Good question and the answer is one of the keys necessary to unlocking this story.

Cards on the table, everything we’re seeing in this film is from the perspective of Naomi Watts’ character. Her name, at first, is Betty and she has just arrived in Los Angeles to pursue her dream of acting. She befriends Laura Harring’s amnesiac Rita as they try to solve the mystery of the car accident and Rita’s true identity. They stumble across a name of Diane and search her out. When Diane’s apartment is found, it’s in a funhouse mirror version of their current apartment complex. Where Betty’s life in Los Angeles has been brightly lit and full of pluck, everything suddenly shifts to muted and somber. At first, this world revolves around Betty and her life. Everyone seems so invested in her. When the key to the mystery finds its keyhole, the reasoning behind all of this will become crystal clear. Nothing in this film is where it should not be.

One quick little addition here is that Lynch infuses some of this film with hilarious slapstick humor. There’s an entire assassination attempt that goes about as wrong as it could possibly go and the hitman’s attempt to clean up his mess spirals completely out of control in the funniest possible way. There’s also another small detail in this sequence that we’ll dive into in a moment.

Back to the new apartment complex where betty and Rita meet a woman they believe to be the Diane they’re looking for. This woman is not Diane but knows her and she bears a striking resemblance to Rita. Hmmmmmm. Our two leads break into the apartment where they find Diane dead in her bedroom. The only thing we can determine from the dead body is that she was a blonde. Hmmmmmm. They also find a curious blue box that looks to match a blue key in Rita’s possession. Betty and Rita return to the nice apartment in order to figure out their next move. They comfort each other and engage in a love affair. Rita tries on a blonde wig. They are becoming one, in both a figurative and literal sense. Rita and Betty awake to Rita chanting the word: Silencio, over and over again. We’re then transported to a nightclub which goes by the name Silencio. Betty and Rita are ushered in and take their seats. Oh baby, this should have Twin Peaks fans all hot and bothered because this is beginning to directly connect with the fabled show. We’re in the lodge — the black lodge now. The red curtains and blue lights. A performance by Rebekah Del Rio. The sounds and sights of electricity. The mic turning into a pulsing blue orb. This is where souls go to be processed. What is going on? We are so close to answers. But first, the sadness begins to grip everyone involved.

Back at the apartment and Betty has disappeared, leaving Rita in a Betty wig, all alone. She pulls out the blue box and inserts her key. She opens the box to see it empty — a black hole. The camera is again POV here and we get sucked in and through the box.

The film is now completely different.

Everything is more muted and somber, the bright colors and pluck are few and far between. We’re in an alternate world or perhaps we’ve left the alternate world. Betty now goes by the name Diane and Rita goes by the name Camilla. They are lovers on the outs. Things are beginning to clear up. Lynch has partly been telling us a story about ego. We can question everything we’ve seen so far. We humans are infatuated with ourselves. We exist with the idea that we live in a fishbowl, with everyone watching and commenting on our lives. This film was released twenty years ago and it’s even more relevant today. Another relevant tidbit: Lynch stuck himself in this film. Justin Theroux’s conflicted director is Lynch himself. He wants us to understand how difficult this profession can be to navigate in a corporate world. Inspiration can be fleeting and we’re rarely on solid ground.

The film continues and we watch Diane (Watts) spin out of control. She returns to her apartment (the sad one) and throws herself on the bed. Red sheets, look familiar? Her parents are laughing and mocking her in her mind. We originally met them as strangers so full of love and hope for young Betty. Oh the tables have turned. Diane cannot quiet the voices and shoots herself dead in a fit of desperation. The room fills with smoke followed by super lit and superimposed scenes of Betty and Diane before fading out and reentering Club Silencio for good.

So what exactly happened?

What happened is that Naomi Watts starred as a young, hopeful actress named Diane who couldn’t quite catch the breaks she needed to sustain a career. Her girlfriend (Rita/Camilla) caught the breaks and they drifted apart. Diane fell deep into a depression with no end in sight and unfortunately succumbed to her depression by committing suicide. The first half of the film is a rendering of Diane’s life — somewhat as it happened and somewhat as she wished it had been. The Blue box represents the truth and once we pass into it, we’re then in actual reality. This is what happened to Diane. The second half of the film is the harsh truth. Remember the hitman? Did you notice how he had two different colored eyes? One eye was Betty and the other Rita. The first half of the film is the moment between when Diane shot herself and the moment she actually died. Still, as harsh as the story is, Lynch is telling us a love story. Sure it’s sad but you cannot have sadness without happiness, love without anger, life without death. That is the yin and the yang of life. Mulholland Drive is ultimately a film depicting the various stages of our lives. We travel from the wild eyed wonder of infancy to the adventurous spirit and mystery of growing up. We then enter our work/purpose phase and this is often where it can go all right or all wrong or everything in between. This is where the ego rules over all. Adoration can lead to doubt which can breed anxiety and then enter depression which holds the hand of helplessness and walks us up to death’s door. It’s a miracle of a film that throws everything at us and mixes it up to the point where we question our own reality but it also gives us the tools to solve its central mystery. It’s about creation and inspiration as much as it’s about depression and destruction. It’s a journey about the journey and I love it as much as it’s possible to love a film.

One last thing before we go: Naomi Watts is flat-out fucking astonishing in this film. Her performance is easily one fo the best I’ve seen in the last two decades.

Next week, Inland Empire. 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.

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.

Sofia Coppola Friday #5 – The Bling Ring

Today, we’re discussing Sofia Coppola’s fifth film, The Bling Ring. Following on from her previous film, Somewhere, she’s getting even more loose with her techniques. This film, I’m sure many of you know, is based on a true story. A few years ago, a group of Los Angeles teens were breaking in to celebrity homes and stealing their belongings. I can see why Coppola would be drawn to this story as many of her previous work has been rooted in tabloid, celebrity, and celebrity culture. This is no different and feels like a companion piece to Marie Antoinette, albeit told from the opposite perspective. She loosens her grip on the camera and more importantly, her dialog — it’s still natural but much less impactful. This isn’t a knock on the film because it’s required as Coppola chose to tell this story using a more documentary styled approach. Her camera is often handheld which makes us feel like we’re right there with these teens. This creates a voyeuristic effect and the film would not work without it.

The film itself is all about feeling, about vibe. The camera helps create this and once again, Coppola’s choice in pop music is spot on. We always feel like we are in this world, in these clubs the teens cherish so much. More than this though is the question it causes us to ask. Why would these kids do these things? Okay, this is why. Coppola is a master at linking her camera to the music to the dialog and so on. She is nothing if not supremely confident and assured in her vision.

Digging into these kids, we see similarities to the Lisbon sisters from The Virgin Suicides. Coppola is cycling back to feelings from her feature debut, this time with an extra sense of entitlement. These kids are obsessed with celebrity and celebrity culture — obsessed. They’re all also positive the world is out to get them — desperate to grow up.

In fact, desperation is a main running theme throughout the film. They are desperate to be noticed, liked, declared beautiful, etc. They want and need all eyes on them. Through their actions, they actually achieve a small level of fame, even if it is actually infamy — they don’t care, attention is attention. It is all so ugly in its desperation. You feel bad for these kids but at the same time, you want to punch these kids and their ineffectual parents. The kids have life-sized holes inside them and nothing can fill them — not the drugs, the booze, or even the stolen goods. Instead, their sadness, angst, self-loathing, and entitlement mix together into one hell of a destructive cocktail. We also see them run out of rope as their desperation breeds compulsion and then spin itself into paranoia and their relationships begin to fray.

And at last, we begin to see the real point here. Sure, the film makes us feel unsafe. It points out how social media can and often does make us more susceptible to people wishing us some level of harm. This is not the main point. What Coppola is really driving at is the short-sighted nature of youth. When we’re young, we have an inability to see correctly what is right in our face. The youth are too busy searching for instant gratification that they will grow willfully ignorant to what is really going on all around them. I know I was guilty of this when I was younger and I am sure many of you can share the sentiment. This creates a never ending cycle that can be difficult to break. It’s like a tiger eating its tail. It is cannibalistic. But then again, so is celebrity, so is business, so is life in America.

The Bling Ring can be a tough watch because there is literally nobody to root for. The film leaves the viewer cold, numb if you will, but that is the point. We are not a part of the club, either club depicted, and our feelings about the film can say a lot about the work each of us still has to do with our own selves.

Next week, The Beguiled. Until then, love each other.

Sofia Coppola Friday #4 – Somewhere

This week, we’ll be discussing the fourth feature film from Sofia Coppola, Somewhere. It tells the story of Johnny Marco and his daughter Cleo. He is a superstar actor currently living in the famous Hollywood hotel, Chateau Marmont while Cleo is his eleven year old daughter who surprises him with a visit.

From the first moment, Coppola is hitting us with a big metaphor as we are shown nothing but a black Ferrari driving around a remote racetrack. Johnny is directionless at the onset of this film. Here, he’s in an expensive sports car and doing nothing but going around in circles. We move on to the Chateau with Johnny, drunk, stumbling down the stairs with an entourage. He falls and breaks his arm. Coppola is pulling no punches in showing Johnny’s nothingness. She uses natural light and unadorned settings. He pays for a striptease with twins but falls asleep before they’re done. He wakes the next morning and we see Xanax and Propecia sitting on his bathroom sink. It’s telling. Johnny is worried about losing his hair which equates to his movie star looks which connects him to his youth. He’s depressed and constantly looking to fill the void inside with anything. He hires the strippers again, remains awake but it is no less sad.

This film feels like a sister to Lost In Translation because Johnny resembles a younger Bob in many ways. He is able to do whatever he wants but never has anything to do or anyone to do it with. Johnny is always surrounded by people and is always receiving free, various offers of anything from almost anyone he meets yet it is all so ineffectual. He is alone in a crowd — alone with his own demons.

Johnny wakes the next morning to see his daughter Cleo sitting on the edge of his bed and drawing on his cast. His face immediately lights up. We see the hint of a spark in Johnny’s eyes for the first time. He takes his daughter to her ice skating lesson and right away, the film strikes us with another of its lessons. Johnny is watching his daughter skate and Stephen Dorff’s face morphs from love and amusement to a troubling recognition. The realization of the similarities between his daughter skating and the dancers/strippers he hires for himself washes over him. He is now a man beginning to reckon with his own treatment of women. I have always loved Dorff and this is easily his best performance. Again, Coppola has impeccable taste in who she chooses for roles. There is nobody else who could portray Johnny with the rough, lonely care that Dorff displays. The same goes for Elle Fanning as Cleo. She is an astonishing talent.

The film then follows Johnny alone for some time as he has a press junket to attend for his new film. Coppola is sure to show us the box he must stand on in order to be as tall as his female co-star. The co-star in question is also quietly and constantly reminding him how much she doesn’t like him throughout the whole process. We finish with Johnny’s stop at an fx studio for a plaster mold of his head. They then apply serious aging makeup and we watch Johnny study himself as he takes in what the future likely holds for him. It is all very vain and illustrates this particular side of the Hollywood game with brilliant clarity. He so desperately needs to feel good about himself and for others to show him similar admiration.

Johnny then receives a call from one of his exes, Cleo’s mother, and she explains that he needs to take care of Cleo for awhile because she needs time to herself. Johnny has a prior engagement in Italy and takes Cleo along with him. We get to witness and experience the absurdity and surreal nature of celebrity during this sequence. The point of view switches to Cleo as she takes it all in. It’s also here where Johnny, in the midst of staying in a lavish suite, begins to take stock in the ridiculousness of what he does.

As the film goes on we watch Johnny begin to figure out what is truly important in his life. He loves and cherishes Cleo more than anything else and it’s wonderful to watch him figure this out for himself. Where in the beginning his car was a vessel for restless nature and an aimless life, with Cleo it’s a tool used for specific purposes. His whole life has direction when with his daughter. I love the scenes where it is Johnny and Cleo alone. Their late night gelato binge in Italy. The knowing smirk he gives her on stage in Italy. Playing cards, eating burgers, being serenaded in the Chateau’s lobby. Playing ping-pong. The underwater tea party and subsequent poolside lounge session. Johnny is fully alive like he hasn’t been in a long time.

The time finally comes for Johnny to take Cleo to camp for the next several weeks. She is afraid for her mom and as they say goodbye, we see Johnny is afraid to be without his daughter. He knows the hole that is inside him and it’s grown too big and unkempt due to his negligence. He turns to his daughter and tells her, “Cleo! I’m sorry I haven’t been around.” The helicopter rotors drown him out. Cleo smiles and waves and she’s gone. Johnny swipes at a rogue tear. This is important because he needed to own this failure. He needed to admit this out loud. Where in the beginning of the film, Somewhere meant nothing, it now means something. Johnny could have gone anywhere but he was stuck and trapped by his own fame and the shackles that come with that lifestyle. This is perfectly illustrated by his final night at the Chateau. He looks out over the city of Los Angeles and there is nothing there for him. The Chateau and his fame have acted like a prison, keeping him where it wants him to be. A hotel acting as a sort of prison is the second big similarity to Lost In Translation.

Johnny checks out and drives straight out of the city. He leaves his Ferrari on the side of a remote road and walks away from it all. The look on his face is a mix of relief, happiness and determination as he finally leaves his trappings behind. He once wandered, searching for a map to life but now he finally has somewhere to go.

Next week, The Bling Ring. Until then, love each other.