(no subject)
Hey, its me. Rumors of Mark Twain's death have been greatly exaggerated...oh wait, it turns out he really is dead after all. But hey, who reads these days anyway?
Happy Carnivale, happy Fat Tuesday, happy what have you. geebs, I hope you're having some good meat action tonight, not like you actually give it up for the full Lent like most of your stem-cell saving brethren. But its okay, we all love you anyway. Did I mention I'm kinda drunk? We went to our beloved Sotto Sotto, which was having a Carnivale-inspired dinner, masks included. Our first dinner with just the two of us since the events of September 22, 2005. This is what I had (same as the wife, except no drinks for her):
Antipasto
Capesante alla Veneziana
Diver scallops with bread crumbs, thyme, lemon zest, chickpea puree
Inama Soave Classico 2004
Primo
Risotto al Nero di Seppia
Carnaroli rice with baby cuttlefish braised in its ink
Cesari Mara Valpolicella Classico Superiore Ripasso 2003
Secondi
Polenta e Baccala
Braised salt cod and soft polenta
Ottella Lugana 2005
Dolce
Gala
Pastry cream fritters with glazed fruit
Jeio Bisol Prosecco Di Valdobbiadene Desiderio Jeio
Dear Lord, yes. I have discovered that I'm not a 4-course kind of guy, at least when you're talking about hearty Italian fare (even taking it easy for lunch today with a bagel and 6 marcona almonds - about 7 forks into the salt cod and my stomach was quivering), but I enjoyed the decadence tonight. Now I know why its called Fat Tuesday...
But honestly I'm not here to talk about food. I'm here to talk about another favorite subject of mine, David Lynch. And his latest film, Inland Empire, which we saw this past Sunday afternoon. Have you seen it? [Waiting for affirmative] Good! So now I can tell you what I thought about it. Apologies to Franks-APA people, who'll have to reread thoughts similar to this a month from now...
So this is the latest movie by David Lynch. I'm not going to write the "plot" of the movie here, since that would require far more imagination on my part than I care to delve into at this point. I assume you've already seen it or else you wouldn't want to know how I decode it. Decent enough observation? Then lets proceed.
First off, I should state that my wife is a genius. If there was a graduate school offering degrees in interpreting film meanings, particularly David Lynch film meanings, she'd graduate summa cum laude (or whatever it is those smart people get). One of the first cinema trips we ever made as a couple was to see Mulholland Drive. S spent half the movie with her hands in front of her eyes, screamed a couple of times, and broke down in tears on the completion of the film. She wasn't even able to gain composure to stand up and walk out of the Lefont Plaza until about 3 minutes after the credits ended. I thought I had majorly screwed up my "good boyfriend" points. We had originally planned to have dinner at the Righteous Room (next door to the cinema), but S said "I can't eat this close to the theater" so we drove down the street to La Fonda Latina instead. We had a 2-hour dinner there, whereupon we discussed the movie and she absolutely nailed her interpretation of it, tying every obscure scene into one cohesive whole. My jaw hit my paella pan in the process. She concluded by saying "That was one of the best movies I've ever seen, but I never want to watch it again." Since that time, she's seen much of Lynch's oeurve (deciphering Eraserhead just the same way the Village Voice's J. Hoberman did in one of his books) and her ability to understand his cinematic nightmares has never ceased to amaze me. And no less for his latest too. While these are both our understandings of the film, I will admit that she pointed me in the right direction with my thoughts. It was like I had assembled all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but she provided me with the map of what the finished product was supposed to look like.
curt_holman's boss (or at least his compatriot) refers to the film in her Creative Loafing review as a morality tale on the perils of committing adultery. I agree with her that its a morality tale, but I disagree strongly about the latter. Even if that is the point he was getting at here, with Laura Dern descending into the ranks of "Loco-Motion" dancing quasi-bisexuals after getting her rocks off with some hot-pants actor, there's still about 24 different storylines in the film that are completely unaffected by this revelation. You wanna know what I think? I think its a morality tale about the perils of watching too much television. Furthermore, I think that almost every scene in the movie is a "fake scene". The movie is about a woman who has nothing better to do than to watch TV all day long. That woman is the lady we see in the beginning of the movie sobbing at the static on her television set. We continue to peer at her throughout the film. Whatever she sees on TV reflects her state of mind, which is to say that its rather dark. At the very end, her husband and son (presumably in the first grade) return home, from where I don't know, she leaves the TV to greet them, and everything ends up rosy. Absolutely everything else in the movie is a reflection of what she's watching on TV.
Rationale? Let's start with this. The movie begins in a relatively straight-forward fashion. A bizarre woman of the fates mysteriously appears to tell Dern that she's about to get more than she's bargained for (a classic celluloid device: were this real, wouldn't a woman who lives in a veritable palace throw this nutjob out before she continues to issue bizarre prophesy after another?). Upon the news that the film Dern is starring is a remake with a sordid history, the movie breaks into shards. Here, Dern is almost indistinguishable as her movie star persona, the role she's playing, the Polish prostitute, etc. Lots of alternative storylines develop, with a small group of actors playing a multiple number of roles. Non-sequitir after non-sequitir is delivered for almost 3 hours straight. I was going insane halfway through trying to keep up before I gave up hope. Then I thought to myself: if its so impossible to ascertain each character, does it really matter? It seemed that it was an analogy for Hollywood: typically, no actor plays the same role twice. Someone can be a good girl in one movie and a bad girl in another, a Sandra Dee for one film and a Mae West in another. Meanwhile, the entertainment-fueled viewer at home can delude themselves into thinking they know how a celebrity ticks, just by watching them perform their job. An actress playing a sad role can elicit a sad behavior in the viewer, as we see here. Hopefully I'm not drunk enough in my writing for that not to make sense.
Need further proof? Let's look at this. At several different times in the movie, characters talk about how they can't figure out the present from the past, and how they have no clue what's ahead tomorrow. Seems analogous to TV, as new programming is presented alongside reruns and syndication, but of course you never see tomorrow's broadcasting ahead of time. Another repeated phrase is the irrelevant "I'm good with animals", which 3 different people utter throughout the film, almost like its a meaningless pop culture phrase, another product of television. For such an uncliched film, a lot of corny TV cliches are employed: the melodramatic head-turns, the out-of-context soliloquies (the Japanese girl talking about her cousin's wigs while Laura Dern vomits up blood), the instant dance scenes where people are blessed with instant synchronized choreography, etc. Lynch even seems to take the piss with the latter - after all, I could say "I just saw a movie where a bunch of hot chicks in suggestive clothing dance to an old 60s pop staple out of nowhere" and you could very well ask "It was a David Lynch movie, wasn't it?" And think of how rapid fire some of these segments take place. What the hell do the talking rabbits have to do with anything else? Its almost like there's somebody flipping the channels while the whole film is happening - "hmm, think I'll watch some of this Polish film. Naah, lets go back to the rabbits. Oh wait, here's the show where the profane lady confesses her crimes to her shrink", etc. This also explains that strange moment at the beginning of the movie, where you suddenly see the film fast-forwarded while Grace Zabriskie is going to the house, only to replay it at the proper speed, like someone is giving their VCR (Tivo?) a workout. Even the name, "Inland Empire", suggests a place that is landlocked from everywhere else, a world with no natural outlets. If that's not TV, then you tell me what it infers.
There's also clues outside of the movie itslf. Its well known that Mulholland Drive was intended to be a TV series, until ABC reneged on their interests, apparently a dark time for Lynch as he's loath to discuss it. And furthermore, most pieces on this new movie talk about how Lynch has broken with Hollywood and has decided to distribute this film himself. Wouldn't that seem to suggest disgruntlement with the whole system? To which this film is an indictment, perhaps even moreso than Mulholland Drive.
Although, personally speaking, this film is much harder to take than its predescessor. Its seemingly a lot easier to understand once the film ends, but until that closing scene I had no idea what tied any of the story together. I'm not lying, this was perhaps the most agonizing film I've ever sat through, knowing that there was some grand cohesion behind it all but I couldn't tell what it was. On the other hand, Mulholland Drive was much more enigmatic but it was more seductive to watch - it was difficult to grasp, but it felt right at least. With this, if the theme eludes you, you're left with about 10 different nightmares that you've got to sift through.
From reading interviews with Lynch, I know he hates to assign meanings to his films, but I honestly believe that this gets at the core of what he was wanting to say. We felt justified in reading Jonathan Rosenbaum's review afterwards - we figured if we were on the same track he was, we must have done something right. Actually, I'm taking this too generously, as S probably came up with most of this theory on her own and I just had the privilege of being the one next to her saying "Yeah! Of course!"
As an apt closing, we were able to see this movie thanks to my parents babysitting A-chan for us. We called them after the movie to see how things were. They said things were going great, and that A-chan was playing with the new toy they had bought her. When I asked what it was, they told me it was a toy car that you push with your feet, Flintstones-style. And what kind of car is it? A Hummer. A goddamned Hummer my little girl is driving. Given to her by my parents. These two people are responsible for my genetic makeup. How that works is an enigma far more complicated than any David Lynch movie I've seen...
So there you go. My first entry since January 1 and its about a movie probably 90% of you on this friends-list won't see and a meal 100% of you probably didn't eat. Ah, didn't you miss me?
Happy Carnivale, happy Fat Tuesday, happy what have you. geebs, I hope you're having some good meat action tonight, not like you actually give it up for the full Lent like most of your stem-cell saving brethren. But its okay, we all love you anyway. Did I mention I'm kinda drunk? We went to our beloved Sotto Sotto, which was having a Carnivale-inspired dinner, masks included. Our first dinner with just the two of us since the events of September 22, 2005. This is what I had (same as the wife, except no drinks for her):
Antipasto
Capesante alla Veneziana
Diver scallops with bread crumbs, thyme, lemon zest, chickpea puree
Inama Soave Classico 2004
Primo
Risotto al Nero di Seppia
Carnaroli rice with baby cuttlefish braised in its ink
Cesari Mara Valpolicella Classico Superiore Ripasso 2003
Secondi
Polenta e Baccala
Braised salt cod and soft polenta
Ottella Lugana 2005
Dolce
Gala
Pastry cream fritters with glazed fruit
Jeio Bisol Prosecco Di Valdobbiadene Desiderio Jeio
Dear Lord, yes. I have discovered that I'm not a 4-course kind of guy, at least when you're talking about hearty Italian fare (even taking it easy for lunch today with a bagel and 6 marcona almonds - about 7 forks into the salt cod and my stomach was quivering), but I enjoyed the decadence tonight. Now I know why its called Fat Tuesday...
But honestly I'm not here to talk about food. I'm here to talk about another favorite subject of mine, David Lynch. And his latest film, Inland Empire, which we saw this past Sunday afternoon. Have you seen it? [Waiting for affirmative] Good! So now I can tell you what I thought about it. Apologies to Franks-APA people, who'll have to reread thoughts similar to this a month from now...
So this is the latest movie by David Lynch. I'm not going to write the "plot" of the movie here, since that would require far more imagination on my part than I care to delve into at this point. I assume you've already seen it or else you wouldn't want to know how I decode it. Decent enough observation? Then lets proceed.
First off, I should state that my wife is a genius. If there was a graduate school offering degrees in interpreting film meanings, particularly David Lynch film meanings, she'd graduate summa cum laude (or whatever it is those smart people get). One of the first cinema trips we ever made as a couple was to see Mulholland Drive. S spent half the movie with her hands in front of her eyes, screamed a couple of times, and broke down in tears on the completion of the film. She wasn't even able to gain composure to stand up and walk out of the Lefont Plaza until about 3 minutes after the credits ended. I thought I had majorly screwed up my "good boyfriend" points. We had originally planned to have dinner at the Righteous Room (next door to the cinema), but S said "I can't eat this close to the theater" so we drove down the street to La Fonda Latina instead. We had a 2-hour dinner there, whereupon we discussed the movie and she absolutely nailed her interpretation of it, tying every obscure scene into one cohesive whole. My jaw hit my paella pan in the process. She concluded by saying "That was one of the best movies I've ever seen, but I never want to watch it again." Since that time, she's seen much of Lynch's oeurve (deciphering Eraserhead just the same way the Village Voice's J. Hoberman did in one of his books) and her ability to understand his cinematic nightmares has never ceased to amaze me. And no less for his latest too. While these are both our understandings of the film, I will admit that she pointed me in the right direction with my thoughts. It was like I had assembled all the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but she provided me with the map of what the finished product was supposed to look like.
curt_holman's boss (or at least his compatriot) refers to the film in her Creative Loafing review as a morality tale on the perils of committing adultery. I agree with her that its a morality tale, but I disagree strongly about the latter. Even if that is the point he was getting at here, with Laura Dern descending into the ranks of "Loco-Motion" dancing quasi-bisexuals after getting her rocks off with some hot-pants actor, there's still about 24 different storylines in the film that are completely unaffected by this revelation. You wanna know what I think? I think its a morality tale about the perils of watching too much television. Furthermore, I think that almost every scene in the movie is a "fake scene". The movie is about a woman who has nothing better to do than to watch TV all day long. That woman is the lady we see in the beginning of the movie sobbing at the static on her television set. We continue to peer at her throughout the film. Whatever she sees on TV reflects her state of mind, which is to say that its rather dark. At the very end, her husband and son (presumably in the first grade) return home, from where I don't know, she leaves the TV to greet them, and everything ends up rosy. Absolutely everything else in the movie is a reflection of what she's watching on TV.
Rationale? Let's start with this. The movie begins in a relatively straight-forward fashion. A bizarre woman of the fates mysteriously appears to tell Dern that she's about to get more than she's bargained for (a classic celluloid device: were this real, wouldn't a woman who lives in a veritable palace throw this nutjob out before she continues to issue bizarre prophesy after another?). Upon the news that the film Dern is starring is a remake with a sordid history, the movie breaks into shards. Here, Dern is almost indistinguishable as her movie star persona, the role she's playing, the Polish prostitute, etc. Lots of alternative storylines develop, with a small group of actors playing a multiple number of roles. Non-sequitir after non-sequitir is delivered for almost 3 hours straight. I was going insane halfway through trying to keep up before I gave up hope. Then I thought to myself: if its so impossible to ascertain each character, does it really matter? It seemed that it was an analogy for Hollywood: typically, no actor plays the same role twice. Someone can be a good girl in one movie and a bad girl in another, a Sandra Dee for one film and a Mae West in another. Meanwhile, the entertainment-fueled viewer at home can delude themselves into thinking they know how a celebrity ticks, just by watching them perform their job. An actress playing a sad role can elicit a sad behavior in the viewer, as we see here. Hopefully I'm not drunk enough in my writing for that not to make sense.
Need further proof? Let's look at this. At several different times in the movie, characters talk about how they can't figure out the present from the past, and how they have no clue what's ahead tomorrow. Seems analogous to TV, as new programming is presented alongside reruns and syndication, but of course you never see tomorrow's broadcasting ahead of time. Another repeated phrase is the irrelevant "I'm good with animals", which 3 different people utter throughout the film, almost like its a meaningless pop culture phrase, another product of television. For such an uncliched film, a lot of corny TV cliches are employed: the melodramatic head-turns, the out-of-context soliloquies (the Japanese girl talking about her cousin's wigs while Laura Dern vomits up blood), the instant dance scenes where people are blessed with instant synchronized choreography, etc. Lynch even seems to take the piss with the latter - after all, I could say "I just saw a movie where a bunch of hot chicks in suggestive clothing dance to an old 60s pop staple out of nowhere" and you could very well ask "It was a David Lynch movie, wasn't it?" And think of how rapid fire some of these segments take place. What the hell do the talking rabbits have to do with anything else? Its almost like there's somebody flipping the channels while the whole film is happening - "hmm, think I'll watch some of this Polish film. Naah, lets go back to the rabbits. Oh wait, here's the show where the profane lady confesses her crimes to her shrink", etc. This also explains that strange moment at the beginning of the movie, where you suddenly see the film fast-forwarded while Grace Zabriskie is going to the house, only to replay it at the proper speed, like someone is giving their VCR (Tivo?) a workout. Even the name, "Inland Empire", suggests a place that is landlocked from everywhere else, a world with no natural outlets. If that's not TV, then you tell me what it infers.
There's also clues outside of the movie itslf. Its well known that Mulholland Drive was intended to be a TV series, until ABC reneged on their interests, apparently a dark time for Lynch as he's loath to discuss it. And furthermore, most pieces on this new movie talk about how Lynch has broken with Hollywood and has decided to distribute this film himself. Wouldn't that seem to suggest disgruntlement with the whole system? To which this film is an indictment, perhaps even moreso than Mulholland Drive.
Although, personally speaking, this film is much harder to take than its predescessor. Its seemingly a lot easier to understand once the film ends, but until that closing scene I had no idea what tied any of the story together. I'm not lying, this was perhaps the most agonizing film I've ever sat through, knowing that there was some grand cohesion behind it all but I couldn't tell what it was. On the other hand, Mulholland Drive was much more enigmatic but it was more seductive to watch - it was difficult to grasp, but it felt right at least. With this, if the theme eludes you, you're left with about 10 different nightmares that you've got to sift through.
From reading interviews with Lynch, I know he hates to assign meanings to his films, but I honestly believe that this gets at the core of what he was wanting to say. We felt justified in reading Jonathan Rosenbaum's review afterwards - we figured if we were on the same track he was, we must have done something right. Actually, I'm taking this too generously, as S probably came up with most of this theory on her own and I just had the privilege of being the one next to her saying "Yeah! Of course!"
As an apt closing, we were able to see this movie thanks to my parents babysitting A-chan for us. We called them after the movie to see how things were. They said things were going great, and that A-chan was playing with the new toy they had bought her. When I asked what it was, they told me it was a toy car that you push with your feet, Flintstones-style. And what kind of car is it? A Hummer. A goddamned Hummer my little girl is driving. Given to her by my parents. These two people are responsible for my genetic makeup. How that works is an enigma far more complicated than any David Lynch movie I've seen...
So there you go. My first entry since January 1 and its about a movie probably 90% of you on this friends-list won't see and a meal 100% of you probably didn't eat. Ah, didn't you miss me?