Versucht man David Lynch wikepadiatorisch zu definieren, kommt folgendes dabei heraus: “David Keith Lynch (* 20. Januar 1946 in Missoula, Montana) ist ein US-amerikanischer Regisseur, Maler, Fotograf und Animationskünstler.”

Ein Multitalent also, dessen Durchbruch ihm mit Filmen wie Eraserhead im Jahre 1977 gelang (und er wohl deshalb die Frisur noch heute in Ehren trägt?), Blue Velvet, der ihn 1986 weiter auf dieser Welle reiten lässt und er mir persönlich mit Lost Highway und Mulholland Drive 1997 und 2001 zwei meiner Lieblingsfilme beschert: “Als Regisseur hat er eine unverkennbare Filmsprache gefunden (der SPIEGEL)”.Was einige seiner Filme, speziell Mulholland Drive, angeht, klicke ich mich noch heute durch alle Foren, um die Intetionen aufzuspüren. Der Meister selbst sagte einmal in einem Interview, das ich vor Jahren las, er verstehe seine Filme als Bilder bzw. Gemälde, bei denen jeder Betrachter einen jeweils anderen Eindruck gewinnt und er ihnen deshalb seine ganz eigenen Interpretationen abgewinnt.
David Lynch ist ein Meister des surrealistischen, grotesk anmutenden Kinos, das sich mit atmosphärischen Elementen des Film Noirs vereint und somit eine Art vertontes Kunstwerk schafft. Sohingehend verbindet er immer Kunst, Film und auch seine Leidenschaft zu experimenteller Musik, die er für seine Filme zu großen Teilen selbst produziert.

“Der Film entwickelte sich für mich aus der Malerei.”

Nun gibt er erstmals in Deutschland sein Werk als bildender Künstler preis und zwar im Max Ernst Museum in Brühl. Seine Bilder sind wie erwartet grotesk, gewohnt verstörend und ein bisschen anders. Die Einflüsse eines Francis Bacon sind sofort erkennbar, sieht man sich die sogenannten “Distorted Nudes”- Werke an, bei denen es sich um verzerrte und teilweise verstümmelte Frauenkörper, am Computer bearbeitet, handelt und auch etwas verstörend wirken. Die ältesten Werke Lynchs stellen die Aufnahmen der schmelzenden Schneemänner dar, die er zu den Dreharbeiten seiner Twin- Peaks Serie fotografiert hat. Auch gibt es großformatige Portraits und kunstvoll gestaltete Materialbilder.

Seine Bilder sind so zugänglich wie seine Filme, entweder man lässt sich darauf ein und die Interpretation erstmal aussen vor, oder man versucht  einfach nicht hinzusehen und verpasst dabei die ihm eigene und phantasievolle Art, filmischen Spielraum kunstvoll zu Nutzen.

Hier eine kleine  Auswahl seiner Bilder in Brühl, die ich hier leider nicht, wie er vor Ort, musikalisch unterlegen kann (was die surrealstische Stimmung noch authentischer erscheinen lässt):

Voilà un beau passage de la série Twin Peaks diffusée aux Etats-Unis entre 1990 et 1991 :

C’est en effet une belle idée que celle énoncée ici par l’agent Dale Cooper :

 

Harry, je vais vous confier un petit secret. Tous les jours, un fois par jour, faites-vous un cadeau. Ne planifiez rien, n’attendez rien, laissez les choses arriver d’elles-mêmes.

On trouve dans ces paroles, à mon sens, l’une des clés du cinéma de David Lynch. C’est en effet un cinéma qui s’attarde, qui prend le temps d’observer, de s’offrir cet instant de répit. La dynamique de Lynch fonctionne sur ce rapport entre cette terrible tension qui règne bien souvent et ces moments d’étrange accalmie. Je pense à Lost Highway, à ces longues déambulations sans but, mais aussi à Mulholland Drive. Un exemple précis me revient d’ailleurs à l’esprit dans ce dernier film : la scène, là encore, du café.

Il y a, dans cette scène, un mystère, quelque chose de terrible qui se trame et dont Lynch, intelligemment, nous donne l’indice (la photographie). Puis, soudain, la tension s’immobilise – sans retomber. Et l’on passe à ce rituel du café.

Le personnage du producteur (joué par Angelo Badalamenti) accomplit en effet tous les gestes d’un rituel. Il prend le temps de déposer sa serviette sur sa main gauche, attrape avec délicatesse la tasse de café. On est ici dans une sorte de “cérémonie du thé” inversée. Inversée par la boisson elle-même mais aussi parce que chez Lynch, ce n’est plus l’abandon à l’instant qui est mis en scène mais la recherche même de cet abandon.

Le personnage joué par Badalamenti, contrairement à Dale Cooper dans Twin Peaks, ne laisse les choses arriver d’elles-mêmes. Il planifie, il organise, il attend. Et cette scène, qui est la scène d’un échec, la scène d’un homme qui, tendant vers soi, ne parvient jamais à l’unification, ne peut se terminer que par un hurlement (“help me” crie ce personnage étrange qui est une sorte de “doppelganger”, de double – Lynch insistant ici sur l’impossibilité de revenir à soi).

Le cinéma de David Lynch (dont on sait qu’il est adepte de la “méditation transcendantale”) met en scène cet échec tout en prenant bien soin de jouer avec le temps, avec les tensions. Mulholland Drive, comme Blue Velvet et, dans une certaine mesure, Sailor et Lula, est un film qui prend le temps. Un film qui laisse les choses arriver d’elles-mêmes. Comme si le regard du cinéaste flottait, n’enregistrait que l’instant. C’est, justement, l’incapacité des personnages à évoluer dans cet instant (à toujours imaginer ce qui doit advenir ou à calculer les conséquences comme c’est le cas dans cette scène de Mulholland Drive ou comme c’était le cas du shériff dans Twin Peaks) qui crée la tension chez Lynch.

D’où cette sensation, comme je l’ai définie, d’”étrange accalmie” sur laquelle se clôt la plupart de ses films et que l’on retrouve, par exemple, dans Inland Empire. Prendre une décision, vouloir évaluer les choses, tenter de contrôler la situation : c’est à cela que sont confrontés les personnages de Lynch, à ce besoin de comprendre, de saisir. Voilà leur enfer.

Seuls ceux qui savent s’abandonner à eux-mêmes, à leur inconscient, à leur appartenance au monde et à son irrationnel, seuls ceux-là en sortiront saufs.

Hab mich die Tage mal wieder Marathon-Mindfucken lassen, auf diesem Wege vielen Dank Mr. Lynch. Bin seither abermals auf Milt Bruckners Hammond Sound kleben geblieben. Und das möchte ich dann bitte von Eric Lewis performed sehen. Alles klar, ich muss eine email schreiben.

Mulholland Dr. (David Lynch, 2001)

Hello all.

Oh Mulholland Dr., every time I watch this damn film I love it more. Yesterday’s viewing marked probably the fourth time I have ever sat down and watched it from start to finish. To clarify why this on the list and not Blue Velvet (people who know me well know that I prefer Blue Velvet) is that this was my first exposure to a film by David Lynch. That isn’t to say that without watching it and loving it that I would have never made my way to Blue Velvet but it certainly hastened the process. David Lynch is my favorite living director, and most likely my second favorite of all-time (behind Fellini). I would be interested to see if that would still be the case had I watched Blue Velvet prior to Mulholland Dr.

This is an incredibly difficult film to discuss. First, it is not the most popular movie and then, there are numerous different ways to interpret what happens. All of this naturally contributes to my adoration of the film. The pacing of the film perfectly sets up for the final twenty minutes (where all the varying interpretations come in). For those wondering as to what my interpretation is, where I like the idea of the first two hours being Diane’s dream-life (the line “now I’m in this, ‘dream-place’”) but I personally prefer to not try and dissect what happens. The viewer should just let it happen. I should clarify that I almost never go with this belief but this film is an exception, and for those who have seen the film should know why. When you start diving further and further into the film, looking as to why this and that happens it can a) be frustrating and b) ruin the experience that is watching this film.

Thank you for reading!

Eccoci arrivati alla seconda puntata del sondaggio sui migliori film dell’ultimo decennio.

Questa settimana si può votare per l’annata 2001-2002.

Una premessa metodologica: Il Signore degli Anelli è stato considerato unitariamente, così come Kill Bill, e sarà inserito in classifica una volta sola, nell’anno in cui si è concluso, con l’uscita de Il ritorno del Re.

Sul mio “personalissimo cartellino” si impongono lo splendido melò di Almodovar, l’incubo notturno e hollywoodiano di Lynch che ha lanciato Naomi Watts ed il monumentale apologo di Bellocchio sull’Italia d’inizio millennio, L’ora di religione.

Seguono vicinissimi un Coen d’annata con Billy Bob Thornton, James Gandolfini e l’indimenticabile Scarlett Johansson ed il musical coloratissimo di Luhrmann con Ewan McGregor ed una Kidman, mai così splendente.

Ed ancora la famiglia disfunzionale e geniale di Wes Anderson, il primo ed insuperato film della coppia Inarritu/Arriaga ed il viaggio di formazione Y tu mama tambien di Cuaron, entrambi con Gael García Bernal.

Chiudono la top ten l’ultima idea di Kubrick, realizzata da Spielberg e funestata da un finale improbabile ed il racconto dolente di Penn, tratto da Durrenmatt: l’ultima maestosa interpretazione di Jack Nicholson, prima che il manierismo avesse la meglio.

 Le nostre scelte:

E ora tocca a voi. VOTATE !!!

As the ’00s wrap up, I think it’s a good time to make a list for the ten best movies of the decade.

1. No Country for Old Men (2007)
2. Mulholland Drive (2001)
3. Let the Right One In (2008)
4. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
5. Donnie Darko (2001)
6. Inglourious Basterds (2009)
7. Children of Men (2006)
8. Kill Bill (2003/2004)
9. There Will Be Blood (2007)
10. Unbreakable (2000)

I guess this list reveals my penchant for sci-fi and Quentin Tarantino.

Funky.

- Gyro

Forget about “balls out” acting, what really impresses me these days are the actresses who bare their bushes, and it’s about time. I’m not talking your average porn star. I mean respected actresses who win prizes at Cannes (although I must admit that line is getting blurred all the time). Let’s take a look at some notable examples of renowned actresses who have exposed their nether regions for art:

A terrific actress and truly beautiful, Julianne Moore proved she was a real red head in Altman’s Short Cuts (1993).

Another fabulous redhead is the great Tilda Swinton in an equally great film Julia (2008). Tilda acts with her boobs and her crotch in this movie and she’s genius. Trust me, see it! Plus she utters probably the best line reading in the past thirty years of cinema, “You! I wouldn’t wipe my ass with you!”

Kate Winslet in Holy Smoke (1999). I love seeing Kate Winslet nude in movies and Jane Campion captures a nice full frontal shot of her young, gorgeously zaftig body in this film that I loved and hardly anyone saw. Kate Winslet is probably the best film actress alive today, and she’s famous for revealing a “less than perfect” body. Of course “less than perfect” means she’s a size 8 as opposed to a size 2, which by Hollywood standards makes her a plus size, which means that I’m really fat.

Isabella Rossellini went from gorgeous lounge goddess draped in a blue velvet gown to emerging from the hedges of a suburban lawn naked, brutally exposed and bruised in David Lynch’s Blue Velvet (1986). Her full frontal reveal was done in a long shot, but it sent shock waves of fascination and repulsion. Lynch later trumped it in with his hot lesbian scene in Mulholland Drive (2001), but for some reason gorgeous brunette actress Laura Harring’s “down there” is digitally scrambled. WTF? I wonder why that decision was made. Ratings perhaps? Who knows, it’s one of the hottest sex scenes ever filmed. Mulholland Drive is a great film, probably my favorite film from the past decade. In fact, I think it’s time for another screening.

Speaking of Mulholland Drive, Naomi Watts’ masturbation scene is Oscar worthy for its realism, but the big prize for baring it all, and I mean ALL is Charlotte Gainsborough in Antichirst (2009). I just saw it last week and it’s still fresh in my mind and in my nightmares.
Charlotte Gainsborough looking like a young Patti Smith with a soft voice that is capable of escalating into horrific shrieks is the perfect casting for Von Trier’s twisted fairy tale of a movie. I threw my scarf over my head and closed my eyes during the genital mutilation scenes, but they were wide open during the scene when she’s down on the ground in a forest masturbating completely naked. Whoa! That shocked me just because it was so raw and so real.

I am sure there are other examples, but these are the ones that come to mind. Art cinema will always push the boundaries, and I think it’s about time that sex is depicted truthfully. I don’t know if Antichrist is a great film, but its power to break through a barrier of what can be considered appropriate for cinema versus pornography cannot be denied. I don’t think I will ever want to film what Von Trier does in Antichrist, but his willingness to “go there” encourages me to be bolder in my vision as a filmmaker. And the actresses who also “go there”? Sexuality is part of being human. For an actress to depict that truthfully in the hands of a director’s artistry is an exercise in trust. It’s very interesting to contemplate what separates a Charlotte Gainsborough, looking chic on the red carpet at Cannes and a porn star doing the same thing in Vegas. And while we’re showing it all, why not show the guys’ stuff too. Did Willem Dafoe’s dick double have to belong to a well-endowed porn actor? Couldn’t he just be an average size, or can’t we handle that naked truth yet?

Continuing on with our L.A. theme, we bring you this series of tantalizing winding canyon roads.

This is the sort of thing we live for- our only regret is that we are nowhere near southern California.

Photo credit: Tim Schmidt

- Gyro

Thought we’d share Arthur St. Antoine’s paean to LA’s Mulholland Drive from about a year ago (but which we came across only recently). We’ve never done Mulholland, but we think these words – alternating between reverent and cautionary – could apply to any twisty, potentially treacherous local road used by driving enthusiasts as a quick escape from the daily grind. Read on…

At night come the coyotes, and the ghosts. The dusty ridgeline road is quieter now, city lights on either side shimmering below, gentle breeze a perfume of night-blooming jasmine. The coyotes are mostly invisible, silver-fur ninjas prowling the chaparral and the trash bins of nearby gated estates. But the ghosts are everywhere.

Headlamps startle the dark. From around a distant corner a car approaches, engine working hard, beams sweeping like searchlights as the driver tracks the wriggling asphalt. Perhaps it’s James Dean, running-in his new Porsche 550 Spyder just days before, on a country two-lane 200 miles away, he will drive it to his death. Or it could be Steve McQueen, a long day’s filming finally giving way to a rejuvenating sprint in his beloved Jaguar XKSS. Or is it Gary Cooper, the movie idol’s supercharged 1936 Duesenberg SSJ gunning out of a hairpin and nearly nipping the guardrail before roaring off into the dusk?

It is all of them. And it’s every other car-struck film star, Ferrari owner, Corvette freak, Mustang maven, Alfa fan, hot-rod wrench, rat-racer, and auto junkie before and after who also came to wrangle this asphalt serpent coiled above the City of Angels. The fangs belong to Mulholland Drive.

Built in 1924 and named for L.A. Aqueduct originator William Mulholland, the two-lane artery winds and dips and climbs atop the Santa Monica Mountains, a tarmac lace tying together the San Fernando Valley to the north and the Los Angeles basin to the south. Though the entire “Mulholland Scenic Parkway and Corridor” stretches (with some breaks) for 55 miles from Hollywood past Malibu to the ocean, it’s the roughly nine-mile fragment between the 405 Freeway to the west and Mulholland’s eastern terminus at Cahuenga Boulevard that most resembles a playpen for performance tires.

Which is why we come, too. When a Motor Trend colleague says, “Doing a quick Mulholland,” each of us knows the code. Within 15 minutes said colleague will be on top of the city, right foot urging downward, hands busy on the steering wheel, mansions and scenic lookouts and bougainvillea hedges blurring past as yet another test car begins to offer its confession. Over nearly two decades, I’ve driven Mulholland so many times I can narrate its passage from the couch. Like a race circuit, Mulholland has even earned names for many of its turns: Carls and Carls Jr., Sideways, Deadmans, the Identicals.

Forget track speeds; Mulholland is tight and varied enough to learn plenty about a car at a merely brisk pace. Yet many come to Mulholland with Andretti pretensions anyway. And many don’t return. Between 1980 and 1982 alone, at the height of the illegal Mulholland road-racing scene (“events” usually held at night), four drivers were killed and 140 injured. To this day, the impromptu races continue — as do the sometimes cliff-diving finales.

Mulholland is more than a road. It’s an escape from the city-planned grid and gridlock below, a quick fix of rural do-as-you-please, a street without streetlights, a vista to reset the eyeballs to infinity. Mulholland does things to you. R.E.M. sang of their muse in “Electrolite”: “If you ever want to fly, Mulholland Drive…” Director David Lynch’s 2001 dream noir carries the road’s name.

Up here the stars come to earth, although most shine behind walls. Among the myriad celebrities calling Mulholland home: Jack Nicholson, Warren Beatty, the late Errol Flynn and Marlon Brando (who, when ordered by doctors to lose weight, summoned the McDonald’s far below to come throw Big Macs over his fence). Thus, Mulholland’s alias: “Bad Boy Drive.”

The ghosts undoubtedly concur.

(via Motor Trend)

- Gyro

Lyrics have always fascinated me. I am a person interested in the written word and its application more than I am someone who focuses on the musicality of music. I grew up obsessing about what certain songs were about. Then at a certain age I became aware, thanks to my relationships with musical people and interviews with musicians I idolized, that a lot of songs don’t really mean anything. I know this sounds basic to a lot of people that aren’t as focused on the words in songs, but to me it was nothing less than revelatory.

In retrospect the lack of meaning in some lyrics shouldn’t have been such a surprise to a guy who was more of a Paul McCartney guy than a John Lennon guy. Paul’s songs often sounded like they were about something but mostly fall apart upon closer inspection. Charles Manson may have thought “Helter Skelter” was about an impending war between the races but in reality it was simply an attempt to write a song that was louder and more violent than what the Rolling Stones were writing at the time. The lyrics are largely a description of what’s it like to play on a playground slide.

There is a benefit to focusing on the words of a song. Lyrics were the reason I think I was able to develop a very diverse taste in music. They Might Be Giants don’t have much in common with Del the Funky Homosapien musically, but they are both very adept at turning a phrase or coming up with a clever lyrical construct (full disclosure: I just used the phrase ‘clever lyrical construct’ without fully knowing what it even means or is supposed to mean). When you are more concerned with what a song is saying than how it sounds, it opens you up to a lot of music you may not have cared about otherwise. Of course what constitutes “good lyrics” is as subjective as anything else. When I was about 15 I thought Simon and Garfunkel were excellent lyricists, but at this point in my life I think a lot of their lyrics sound like a freshman poetry seminar (Simon did continue to mature as a lyric writer though and the lyrics on Graceland are suberb).

To many musicians a song is a chance to explore and experiment with a unique sound they haven’t yet tried out. Using “Helter Skelter” again as an example, Paul simply hadn’t written a song that rocked that hard before and so he threw together some lyrics around the melody. What the lyrics actually are saying is by far the least important part of that song. That lack of loaded meaning doesn’t take away from the visceral appeal of the song. The reverse can be true too, good lyrics aren’t enough to get you past something that (for you) is unlistenable. I think Tom Waits writes some really excellent lyrics and I love the atmosphere his words and music combine to make, but his voice is such that I can never listen to more than 2 Tom Waits songs in a row.

Right now I’ve come to a place where I still lyrics are one of the key aspects of a song, but I no longer expect those lyrics to contain a deeper meaning. Lyrics are another color the artist has on her palette to use as she wishes.

Simultaneous to this discovery I had a similar experience with film. Like a lot of guys in their 20’s I went through my David Lynch phase. I watched all of ‘Twin Peaks’, ‘Lost Highway’, ‘Mulholland Drive’, etc. And though I didn’t connect to some of the most esoteric Lynch (I turned ‘Eraserhead’ off in boredom after about 30 minutes) I did slowly learn to accept that sometimes there isn’t a big unifying “What This All Means” to be had in a movie. You can watch ‘Mulholland Drive’ and you can certainly tie together a lot of seemingly random and bizarre things into a very workable theory of what the movie is “about” but there are still a lot of loose ends and odd moments that don’t quite fit in the puzzle you’re constructing. But that’s Lynch’s intent, a lot of the images and words he chooses are meant to create a feeling or mood. There isn’t a hidden metaphor you’re missing out on, the purpose was to make you unsettled, or scared, etc.

So a song could be about being very loud and a movie could be about making you feel alienated. They may exist and be fantastic works of art with nary a literal “meaning” to be had. To a lot of people this information is met with a “Yeah…and?” but for a young man who grew up with his head in a book the freedom to take in art without searching for a meaning was one of the most freeing pop culture experiences I’ve ever had.

Début de journée au Griddle Café sur Sunset Boulevard, où j’ai pu manger des pancakes gros comme des 33 tours. Avec du vrai sirop d’érable! Et le café était ssssuper bon.

Puis j’ai marché de long en large sur Hollywood Boulevard avec une nuée de touristes comme moi.

Très agréable avant-midi. Ensuite j’ai roulé sur Mulholland Drive, là où les starrrrs vivent. Pas toute, loin de là, mais certaines. Sur Hollywood Boulevard il y avait des vendeux de tours guidés qui voulaient me montrer la maison de Britney Spears (à 60$ rien de moins). Ils ne comprenaient pas que ça ne m’intéressait pas. Par contre, voir la route sans savoir à qui appartient telle ou telle maison, ça j’aimais bien. Et la vue de Los Angeles d’en haut est absolument magnifique.

Finalement j’ai été monter la montagne où le fameux Hollywood Sign réside. Il devait faire 27 degrés celcius. Gros soleil et petite brise fraîche.

Cet exercisse a fini d’achever le fond de pancakes du matin et m’a définitivement ouvert l’appétit. J’ai été essayer leur fastfood In-n-Out. Je suis arrivé au caissier et j’ai dit :

Phil : It’s the first time I come here. If I say I want a “4 by 4″ does that make sense?
Caissier :That makes alot of sense sir and I would ask you if you would like onions on that.

L’idée c’est qu’à ce restaurant il y a un menu “secret”. Pas si secret, mais il faut le savoir quand même. Alors, le “4 by 4″ que je demandais n’était inscrit nulle part à la caisse. Quand même sympathique. Leurs hamburgers sont très bons.

Voilà pour une journée bien remplie. Ce soir je me repose et demain je reprends la route vers San Francisco. J’ai bien aimé Los Angeles sommes toute. C’est bien évidemment un survol rapide que j’ai fait, mais je commence à m’habituer au traffic. Il est donc plus que temps que je me tire de là!

Pas vu Le Dude malheureusement…

Position : Los Angeles
Température : 25 celcius
Distance du jour : 93 km
Distance totale : 6780 km

We cruised along Mulholland Drive last night from Encino to the 90068, the Hollywood Hills to our destination over looking the town.

If you haven’t seen the titular David Lynch movie, there may be something wrong with you.

Funny thing is, my friend Bryce, NYC photographer extraordinaire, went to the party destination the night before, thinking it was the right evening. Instead of the party house, he walked into a dinner party at Kyle McLaughlin’s home- star of many a David Lynch projects like Twin Peaks.  Talk about a LA experience.

If you know Lynch’s work- then we have no body switching to report to you than this bit of serendipity way above the sparkling lights of the city.

Here is what we did get into with @SuiteCaroline @Teigehertales @timbannock  @laurienlandry and @bryce_ward and Lil Ashley and Will.

Gashley & The Ghouullls gonna rock YOU.

Ash made that latex tentacle. Caroline is Edie Beale from Grey Gardens. Alissa is a Robert Palmer girl. Topie is Edgar Frog, vampire slayer from Lost Boys.

Tim & Laurie as Zombie Romeo & Juliet

Willy Bones as Willy Wonka and She-Devil

Alissa gettin’ down w/ L.A. (Lil Ash)

Happy Hallowienie to you all (insert Vincent Price laugh here)*

Back in the mythological times of Ancient Greece, many ancient warriors wanted to claim the head of the snake-haired Gorgon sister, Medusa. Medusa was so hard to attack because one look into her eyes would spell your demise.

In “The Ring” a new film from Dreamworks, a mysterious videotape is watched by a pair of teenage girls. The tape drives one girl to end up in a mental institution and the other to mysteriously die. The tape eventually makes it into the hands of Rachel Keller, a single mother (Naomi Watts of “Mulholland Drive“) and her young son, Aidan.

Rachel is a reporter and begins an investigation to what happened to the two girls (one of the girls happens to be Rachel’s niece). Rachel finds herself slipping down a very slippery slope as she soon discovers that others who had seen the tape had only lived for 7 days after seeing the tape. The tape turns out to be the summit of a giant mystery that will bring Rachel and the people she cares about to the brink of death. What kind of power is housed within the tape? What are the secrets surrounding the tape?

“The Ring” is a nail-biter from the opening frame. It is a roller coaster for the mind that doesn’t let go till every pinpointed detail is revealed. I loved the feeling of this movie as it plays with your mind as the cleverly conceived plot unfolds. The film isn’t afraid to slowly release detail after detail very slowly and methodically. A lot of films these days tend to bash us over the head with a shock-ending or gross-fest but this film is too clever for either movie invention.

I loved that the film was multi-layered in that if you guessed a section of the secret you wouldn’t be disappointed when it came to the final frame. There are just so many twists and turns.

The film is a remake of a 1998 Japanese horror film called “Ringu” which I have never seen and I am sure that this version will the first time Western audiences are exposed to this story. If anything it may help Western audiences to look more closely at Japanese horror. Or at least open our eyes to the possibility.

Director Gore Verbinski (“Mouse Hunt” and “The Mexican“) wasn’t afraid to get dark and spooky with this project. Verbinski’s cinematographer Bojan Bazelli photographs the film very gritty but invokes the camera to do some very interesting angles. Bazelli’s dark gritty gift of camera photography was also witnessed in some of his other works like 1993’s “Kalifornia” and “Boxing Helena” as well as 1992’s “Body Snatchers“. Bazelli created a very lush look for 1998’s “Dangerous Beauty” but he seems to have gone back to what he does best with “The Ring“.

I really enjoyed Naomi Watts in her breakthrough role in “Mulholland Drive“. Naomi continues her strong screen presence and knack for being able to soar in experimental projects with grace and acting passion. There was darkness in “Mulholland Drive” which could have been overtaken by a weak actress but Naomi stood her ground. She continues the trend by making Rachel Keller a real and strong female character. I will be interested to see what she does next.

My only slight problem with the film was the strength of Rachel Keller’s romantic interest, Noah (played by relative newcomer Martin Henderson (Windtalkers)). I found that we never got a chance to know Noah except through the eyes of Rachel and Aidan. I also found Henderson’s performance a little lacking. I never felt he contributed much to the feelings in the film and that he was just there. I wonder how he was used in the Japanese version of the film.

What make films like this so draining and an unreal experience are the conversations that tend to awaken when you exit the theatre. You want so badly to debate and discuss what you have just witnessed. There hasn’t been a thriller this clever since the “Sixth Sense” and it surely will be looked at as the thriller of the year. This is one of the best films of the year.

4.5 out of 5

So Says the Soothsayer.

Fourth Annual David Lynch Weekend for World Peace and Meditation Taking Place in Iowa

Published at 1:48 PM on October 30, 2009

By Emily Riemer

David Lynch, signature director of quintessentially dark, sometimes confusing, occasionally erotic, often non-linear films, is also a representative for world peace and meditation. The Oscar-nominated filmmaker and his David Lynch Foundation will present the fourth annual David Lynch Weekend at Maharishi University of Management in Fairfield, Iowa on Friday, Nov. 13 through Sunday, Nov. 15.

Lynch will be the keynote speaker at the conference, and other presenters range from 1960s pop star Donovan to quantum physicist and Maharishi professor John Hagelin (who ran for U.S. president three times with the Natural Law Party). The weekend is aimed at those “interested in creativity, film, art, sustainable living, organic agriculture, brain development, consciousness, meditation, natural medicine, renewable living, peace.” Attendees are encouraged to “take part in a greater conversation about the creative process, alternative education and ways to live a better life.”

The David Lynch Foundation was established in 2005 and, according to its website, has provided millions of dollars to fund and implement the teaching of Transcendental Meditation techniques to students worldwide. The DLF credits the techniques with reducing ADHD and other learning disorders, anxiety, depression, and substance abuse, calling them stress reducing programs that “improve creativity, brain functioning, and academic performance.”

Maharishi University is an appropriate location for such a conference. The undergraduate and graduate university centers around “consciousness-based education” of Transcendental Meditation, sustainability, peace and natural health.

Beyond his forays into transcendentalism, David Lynch is best known as the director of films such as Mulholland Drive and the TV show Twin Peaks.

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David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive is a tough movie to review.  It’s undoubtedly a masterpiece of cinema; the kind of movie that will wash over and through you and leave you unsettled and wondering how something so dissimilar to your own life could affect you so powerfully.

My sole concern with recommending this movie is that it won’t be for everyone.  After watching it through once, I had a rough feeling for the plot; however, if the lack of a lucid plot is going to completely turn you off from a movie, save yourself the exasperation of watching Mulholland Drive.  If, on the other hand, you’re fine with watching a movie as a full experience instead of a simple story, you’ll be in for a treat.  If you like watching the same movie more than once, well, then, you’ll be golden, because the moment you calm down from watching it the first time, you’ll want to see it again.

The main characters are portrayed by Naomi Watts and Laura Elena Harring; they split four characters between the two of them (or at least, I think that’s the case. Difficult to determine, exactly).  They both take every scene seriously, and without their inspired acting I don’t think the confusing narrative would have held together.  Watts’ performance as a naive Hollywood newcomer will haunt you. Don’t write off her acting in the first half of the film when she’s still in wide-eyed-mode; by the end she turns the movie into a tour-de-force and in retrospect will have been acting brilliantly the entire way through.  Of course, that’s assuming you halfway figure out the plot. Either way, she’ll make you feel, probably terrible but feel nonetheless, which is the greatest gift a movie can give you.

Concerning the plot – I haven’t said much, and I don’t plan to.  It’s essentially a noir-mystery-psychological-thriller.  However, the movie works equally well as a series of powerful scenes rather than a coherent story, so don’t worry about picking up on everything your first time through.  Treat it like an opera; even if you don’t speak Italian you can still sense what’s happening.

In all honesty, my mere words couldn’t do this movie justice.  You should rent it, and watch it, repeatedly.  The worst that could happen is you’ll hate it, and know to stay away from the “mind-bending” genre in the future.  (Other examples: Vanilla Sky, Memento, Pi, Donnie Darko). But if you enjoy it, I strongly suspect it will become a staple in your collection; a powerful, upsetting movie that you don’t want to watch over and over again, but you need to in order to feel right again.

En el 2001 se estrenó una de las películas más desconcertantes que uno se pueda imaginar. Y como no podía ser de otra manera, su autoría estuvo a cargo nada menos que de David Lynch, un experto en la materia. No es fácil acceder a su cine onírico, simbólico y surrealista y son más los que se van a quedar afuera que adentro.

Mulholland Drive, que es el nombre de la ruta que une Hollywood y Santa Mónica, fue concebida en un primer momento para ser una serie de televisión. Hasta se filmó el episodio piloto. Pero a la ABC no le convenció y el proyecto se rechazó hasta que Lynch lo recuperó para transformarlo en una película (recordar que Lynch había sido el productor de una serie que se emitió por ABC, Twin Peaks, considerada hoy como una serie de culto).

En la superficie la película trata sobre una joven que llega a Los Angeles con el sueño de triunfar como actriz y conoce a una amnésica que supuestamente es la única sobreviviente de un accidente. Pero sólo en la superficie, ya que nada es lo que parece. El rol que debe asumir el espectador es de suma importancia y en ese sentido la experiencia de ver el film es única. A los que les guste que todo cierre y quede explicado, que se abstengan.

Escena a escena, el director va creando un universo cada vez más complejo e hipnótico que se le presenta al espectador en forma de rompecabezas. No se puede hacer otra cosa que prestar atención a los detalles y dejar fluir las sensaciones que transmiten los personajes y los escenarios en los que se desarrolla la historia. La atmósfera del film siempre se mantiene entre el misterio y la intriga, y la música acompaña a las imágenes hasta casi fundirse en ellas. La potencia visual que se desprende de los cuadros es una de las principales virtudes de Mulholland Drive.

“Una historia de amor en la ciudad de los sueños” es la definición que utilizó el propio Lynch para referirse a la película, que contiene una crítica un tanto feroz contra Hollywood y lo que le puede esperar a las personas que concurren allí para convertir en realidad sus sueños de volverse famosas.

Faltando media hora para que termine la película y a partir de una escena en particular, cuando aparece el vaquero y dice “wake up”, las piezas empiezan a encajar y el guión descubre su genialidad.

A partir de ese momento [NO SE RECOMIENDA SEGUIR LEYENDO ESTE PARRAFO A AQUEL QUE NO HAYA VISTO LA PELICULA] se revela que todo es un sueño de Betty, que en realidad se llama Diane (ese nombre lo tomó de una camarera). Lo que hizo Diane fue contratar a un asesino a sueldo para asesinar a su amante Camila, que en el sueño es Rita, y al final se suicida por la culpa que eso le genera. El director de cine Adam es con quien Camila se va a casar y por esa razón es que en el sueño a Adam todo le sale mal. La torpeza del asesino responde a que Diane se arrepiente y no quiere que Camila muera. La llave azul es la prueba de que el asesino cumplió con su cometido y la caja que esa llave abre es la conciencia de Diane. Los ancianos que aparecen al final representan el remordimiento que la invade (en el sueño hasta se ve muerta a sí misma sin saber que es ella).

Es difícil hablar de Mulholland Drive. Lo que hay que hacer es verla y sentirla por uno mismo. Es un viaje por una sinuosa carretera donde los sueños se han desperdigado por el camino.

Otras recomendaciones…

Petróleo Sangriento

Million Dollar Baby

Las películas de Pixar

Flicking through the channels on Austar (not my subscription nor my tv, as I am sadly too poor for such luxuries) I noticed an advert on the W channel for season 2 of Damages. I never really followed the careers of Glenn Close or Ted Danson with any interest, but them tearing up the screen in season 1 made the show one of the most fun legal crime thrillers I have seen in an age.

Better yet, it featured a glimpse of the enticing Timothy Olyphant engaged in some kind of vaguely devious behaviour towards (my compatriot) Rose Byrne. Not only did I have no clue that season 2 was finally on, but Timothy Olyphant was again gracing the small screen in these post-Seth Bullock times! How much I have to catch up on.

Browsing HuffPo, I came across this recently written article by Glenn Close entitled Mental Illness: The Stigma of Silence. She writes about aspects of some of her most notorious characters with great clarity and knowledge. Better yet, she recommends the work of Kay Redfield Jamison, whose memoir An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness is up there with William Styron’s Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness and Andrew Solomon’s longer The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression (whose shorter piece in The New Yorker prior to the publication of was read by Naomi Watts when preparing for her devastating performance in David Lynch’s masterpiece, Mulholland Drive).

 Bem do alto da monotonia de qualquer segunda-feira à noite, procuro entre a pilha de revistas alguma edição mais antiga (sempre leio revistas antigas). Entre Playboys, Vips e Superinteressantes, retiro, então, a edição 01 da Rolling Stone Brasil (outubro 2006). Na capa, bela capa devo dizer, está Gisele Bundchen  estampada com todo mérito como “A maior popstar brasileira”. Há também uma excelente matéria sobre Bob Dylan. Mas, a que salta aos olhos no primeiro instante é a reportagem com Jack Nicholson: Confissões de um velho safado.

Na ocasião da reportagem, assinada pelo jornalista Erik Hedegaard, Jack Nicholson estava prestes a estreiar o eletrizante longa Infiltrados, de Martin Scorsese. Jack, na ocasião, retornava ao que parece ser seu verdadeiro habitat: Personagens maus!

Entre um cigarro e outro, Jack revela sua personalidade hedonista, intimamente ligado ao sexo e tudo que pode compor tal cenário. Erik “arranca” dele ótimas declarações. Como no trecho a seguir:

(…) E, finalmente, temos as palavras preferidas de Jack para animar seu papo normal, do dia-a-dia, sendo que duas delas são pussy [xoxota] e cunt [boceta]. 

 “Adoro essas palavras!”, ele quase berra. “Quer dizer, no últimos tempos, poderia até perguntar para alguém: ‘Bom, olha, você sabe por que eu digo cunt ou pussy ou pookie [fofinha]?’ Mas gosto de poder dizer coisas como: ‘Cunt é uma sigla’. ‘Para quê?’ ‘Para can’t-understand-normal-thinking [não consigo entender o raciocínio normal].’ He, he, he. Mas, bom, claro que só invento isso para fazer piada. Mas o negócio é que simplesmente gosto dessas palavras, por acaso.”  

Ou neste trecho: 

“Faz um bom tempo que não estou comprometido, então tenho companhias variadas. Em termos de idade, dá para dizer que, no decorrer do último ano, provavelmente cobri o território de 21 a 61.”

  

“Sessenta e um?”

 “É, sou bonzinho com minhas amigas.” 

A entrevista prossegue com Jack divagando sobre o sexo atualmente e sobre o pânico de não ter realizado todas as fantasias que já se passaram pela sua cabeça vazia.

Jack Nicholson

Em verdade sempre me imaginei com o triplo da idade que hoje tenho ao escrever este blogue. Há algum tempo já cultuava admiração pela cara de maluco de Jack e pelos filmes que já o vi fazendo. Hoje na casa dos 70, o cara possui a verdade e a mentira anunciada no olhar. Detém o riso soberbo e sacana que seduz até mesmo as mais gélidas mulheres (Alguém tem que ceder)  e, para completar, possui o estilo de quem viveu as melhores épocas das melhores maneiras possíveis. Eu pergunto, por que não Jack Nicholson?

Existem também outras figuras, mais ou menos na mesma idade, igualmente inspiradoras. Mas todos inspiram à sua maneira, quase uma coisa de nicho. Jack, tanto na vida real, quanto em seus filmes, traz a efervescência do urgente contraposto com a calma de quem sabe muito bem o que, como e quando algo deve ser feito. Hoje tudo ficou claro. Eu, realmente, quero ser Jack Nicholson!

Para conferir toda a reportagem realizada pela Rolling Stone Brasil com o velho safado, basta clicar aqui

On October 5th, Vampire Weekend (or Vamp Wknd as they will forthwith be known) leaked the first song off their upcoming album, Contra, to the internets.  An album which is apparently being released on Ralph Lauren’s upstart label Yachts What She Thread.

In July, which totally seems like three years ago in Internet Time, Miley Billy Ray Ray Hannah Montana Cyrus released her hit single “Party in the U.S.A.”; a song to soundtrack her fashion-forward Wal-Mart clothing line.

In “Horchata” and “Party” we have two equally divisive pop songs: one approved for rice milk drinking indie preps and one specially formulated for Dr. Thunder chugging “regular kids”.  Both are completely horrendous and that’s the end of the story. You can go back to playing your Nintendo now.

Well, not exactly.  I recently loaded both songs onto my Sony Walkman and spent an afternoon playing them ad infintium.  Both ditties have ridiculously catchy choruses that all the q-tips  in the world couldn’t scrape from my brain.  They also each have intermittently annoying verses that make me want to search out the nearest guillotine.

Here are the opening lines to Vamp Wknd’s song:

“In December drinking horchata/I’d look psychotic in a balaclava”

Here are the opening lines to Miley’s tune:

“I hopped off the plane at LAX/with a dream and a cardigan”

I don’t know about you, but I’ll take white girls singing about cardigans over white dudes singing about balaclavas any day.  I like cardigans.  It’s a sensible outfit for sensible kids hopping off planes.  And I’ve TOTALLY hopped off of planes at LAX!  I can relate to that!  Drinking horchata while wearing a balaclava might be psychotic, but I’m more concerned about how annoying it sounds to sing about doing so.

Our Literacy Trumps Your Record Sales

Some have claimed that Vamp Wknd are merely a pleasant musical representation of how small our world has become.  These dudes listen to NPR.  They probably own some bitchin’ high life vinyls.  I’m sure they voted for that guy from Kenya.  I’m down with all of that, and I don’t begrudge their Ivy League education.  If I had also gone to Columbia I probably wouldn’t be writing a blog about Hannah Montana right now.  I found their debut album to be pretty nice, but did I suddenly start listening to Vamp Wknd more than Graceland or Hall & Oates?  No.  Maybe if they had mustaches.

My Dad Can Beat Up Paul Simon

I have never watched more than 38 seconds of an episode of “Hannah Montana”, but I’m certainly aware of its existence and cultural importance.   Miley Cyrus is a huge pop culture figure and a young woman whose music I had somehow managed to avoid…even in my occasional trips to Wal-Mart.  But when someone writes a song this catchy, that makes a meta reference to working your hips to Jay-Z, eventually it is going to reach my ears.  Like yeaaahhhh.  And I have to admit that, between these two songs, “Party in the U.S.A.” somehow seemed less annoying than “Horchata” after double-digit listens.  Maybe it’s because I’m lactose intolerant and don’t really care for rice.

You can download “Horchata” here.

I don’t love or hate either of these tunes.  They both exist in the part of my brain that I call “The Muppet Zone”: a place that is repelled and attracted by cute/annoying pop culture.  Sometimes these songs are Kermit and sometimes they are Miss Piggy, but the entire time my mind is being critiqued by Waldorf and Statler.

I come away from my time spent digesting these songs asking myself if catchy indie pop is really any more valid than catchy mass-marketed tween pop.  I guess the only thing that remains certain in the world is that Billy Ray Cyrus WILL sleep with your wife.  That’s a world I can handle.

-Chris Piercy

Angelo Badalamenti. Angelo Badalamenti. Angelo Badalamenti. Wat ! Een ! Naam ! Spreek hem zelf eens uit en je merkt hoe prachtig die naam klinkt. Achter deze prachtige naam schuilt echter een uitzonderlijk componist. Hij moet naast Danny Elfman mijn favoriete filmmuziek-componist zijn. Nee, Badalamenti staat een trap hoger. Zeker weten. Hij is vooral gekend voor zijn samenwerking met David Lynch, net zoals Elfman met Tim Burton. In onder andere Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks (zowel de serie als de film), Lost Highway, The Straight Story, Wild At Heart en Mulholland Drive (stuk voor stuk pareltjes) zorgt hij voor de muziekscore. Deze films zouden een groot deel van hun effect missen zonder de ondersteuning van Badalamenti. Zonder Badalamenti, geen David Lynch. Hoogstwaarschijnlijk wel een David Lynch, maar niet zoals we die nu kennen. Naast huiscomponist van Lynch, schreef Badalamenti de soundtracks voor onder andere La Cité des Enfants Perdus en Un Long Dimanche de Fiançailles, waarvoor hij in 2005 de World Soundtrack Award voor Composer of the Year kreeg. Ik kende de Twin Peaks Soundtrack, volledig van de hand van Badalamenti, al een tijdje. Voor de titelsong, de ‘Twin Peaks Theme’, kreeg hij een Grammy voor ‘beste instrumentale popnummer’. Een prachtige, variërende en enorm sfeervolle soundtrack die erg moeilijk te beschrijven is. Van erg donkere, mysterieuze songs tot dansbare, jazzy nummers. En toch voelt de soundtrack aan als een geheel, omdat het onbeschrijfbare ‘Twin Peaks gevoel’ (herkenbaar voor mensen die de serie hebben bekeken) als een rode draad heerst doorheen alle nummers. Deze soundtrack helpt voor een groot percentage mee aan dat ‘Twin Peaks gevoel’, omdat die zo perfect aansluit bij de serie. Je kan de twee niet van elkaar loskoppelen: zonder de serie geen muziek en zonder de muziek geen serie.

Voto: 7 (su 10)

23:23. Sonia e Guido si sono appena incontrati. A uno speed date, uno di quegli appuntamenti in penombra, se non al buio, in cui si parla per pochi minuti con una persona prima di decidere  se uscire insieme a lei. Guardano l’orologio, sono le 23:23. È una doppia ora. È come quando cade una stella” dice Guido. “Bisogna esprimere i desideri”. “E funziona?” chiede Sonia. “No”, risponde lui. Il desiderio che esprimiamo ogni volta che vediamo un film italiano è che sia un prodotto coraggioso, originale, di livello internazionale. Non televisivo. E non scontato. Il desiderio potrebbe avverarsi con La doppia ora, dell’esordiente Giuseppe Capotondi, la vera sorpresa italiana del Festival di Venezia. Che è un film di genere, un thriller. E che ha poco di italiano: questo è stato il giudizio di tutti quelli che l’hanno visto al festival.

Sono due persone sole, Guido (Filippo Timi) e Sonia (Ksenia Rappoport). Lei lavora duro come cameriera in un hotel. Lui è un ex poliziotto che lavora alla sorveglianza di una villa. Fa sesso in maniera rabbiosa, ma senza vera passione, con chi gli capita. Guido e Sonia sono due destini che si uniscono. Fino a che lui la porta alla villa che sorveglia, e viene aggredito. C’è uno sparo. E non vi raccontiamo di più.

La vita continua. Ma c’è qualcosa di strano. Le persone sembrano braccarti. Una canzone che avevi ascoltato con lui risuona all’improvviso e ti riporta indietro nel tempo. La foto di un posto in cui non sei mai stata. E le immagini della tv a circuito chiuso dell’albergo che mostrano l’immagine di qualcuno che non è lì (come in Fuoco cammina con me di Lynch). Siamo sicuri che le immagini ci restituiscano la realtà? O forse possono essere manipolate, e mentire? O ancora, possono rivelarci qualcosa che i nostri occhi non vedono? O è la nostra mente la creatrice di immagini più potente, che vede quello che vogliamo vedere, rielabora visioni, suoni, ricordi e li filtra attraverso il senso di colpa, il rimpianto, il desiderio?

La doppia ora scorre lungo le strade perdute di David Lynch, più precisamente sulla pericolosa e oscura Mulholland Drive. È un doppio sogno in cui la percezione è vittima di un doppio inganno. È la percezione di Sonia a essere ingannata, ma anche quella dello spettatore, sia quando coincide con la sua, sia quando la vede dall’esterno, e si innamora di lei. Sonia/Ksenia ha quegli occhi verdi perennemente sgranati e increduli, quel volto da cerbiatto sperduto e impaurito, che ci viene voglia di proteggerla. In fondo è una sconosciuta, per citare il film che ce l’ha fatta conoscere, ma è così bella che in fondo non ci importa di conoscerla a fondo. Ormai ci siamo innamorati, e siamo ciechi. Perché, sotto una levigata superficie da thriller, dentro La doppia ora c’è anche un’intensa storia d’amore.

Capotondi firma un ottimo esordio, un thriller dell’anima intenso, avvolgente e sospeso, carico di suspence e di attese. Filma con la macchina da presa addosso ai volti, soprattutto a quello di Ksenia Rappoport, in maniera quasi “erotica” (l’ha dichiarato lui stesso), quasi a sfiorarla. È bravo, Capotondi, a mantenere il suo sguardo sui personaggi quell’attimo in più, per carpire quell’espressione che non avremmo visto, e che ci trasmette un senso di inquietudine. È bravo anche a filmare gli spazi vuoti, quei non luoghi come corridoi e camere d’albergo, parcheggi sotterranei. Che poi sono i nostri vuoti interiori. Poco importa allora che ci sia qualche sbavatura (il primo arcano svelato un po’ troppo presto, il secondo eccessivamente spiegato). La doppia ora funziona. Il desiderio (quello di un cinema italiano all’altezza) si è avverato.

Da vedere perchè: è un thriller dell’anima intenso, avvolgente e sospeso, carico di suspence e di attese, con dentro una storia d’amore, che corre lungo le strade perdute di David Lynch

(Pubblicato su Movie Sushi)