franco, cameron, etc
"I've always preferred 'accidental genius' to those artists who constantly strive for perfection and stumble their way to genius." This quote is from a friend of mine, made while discussing the cinema of Jess Franco. He went on to say that while Franco may have made "bad" movies, nearly every film would have momentary strikes of brilliance and beauty. This conversation--prompted by sorrowful news that Lina Romay, Franco's partner and muse since the early seventies, passed away last week--captured why I love Jess Franco's work so much (and that of many other exploitation filmmakers, both European and American.) In even the worst made film, there are moments of real soul, of real truth that are just not found in mainstream cinema. Franco's movies in particular are often awkward and dreamlike, possessing an otherworldly quality that encapsulates what cinema really is: dreams on a screen.
Read this wonderful remembrance of Lina Romay (warning: accompanying photo is NSFW). I've never been the slightest bit interested in Avatar, but I could watch Jess Franco movies--even the truly awful ones--all day long. Cinema, like any art form, is subjective--a matter of taste. Avatar is made for the widest possible audience, and there's nothing wrong with that...but I guess I don't see what is interesting about it either. On a technical level, it is probably an amazing film. But I don't watch movies (or read books, or listen to music) to be wowed by technical prowess. I want a story, and above all I want soul. A beating heart. Passion. I've never watched a James Cameron movie (and I've actually seen many of his) and thought, "there's a filmmaker in love with cinema." There's no beating heart.
Is cinema at a crossroads? I don't know. Perhaps. Technology has changed our ability to consume and participate in film, just like it has in other art forms. There will always be an evolution taking place. I tend to think cinema is *always* at a crossroads. And in the end, it's not about the art form itself (except, perhaps, to those who actually make films) but the individual works. There is little that comes out today that catches my eye. The only movie I can think of released in 2011 that I wanted to go see was Melancholia. I thought I would be excited about The Hobbit, but it's a funny thing...much as I enjoyed Peter Jackson's LOTR trilogy, the films didn't stick with me at all. Even while watching them, they felt like actors acting in front of a green screen. The films looked perfect, and because of this I could never lose myself in the world he created. I never thought about the movies once I left the theater. Maybe I'm just too old. Yet I can't get Franco's films...or Jean Rollin's...or Andrzej Żuławski's...or any number of other unheralded filmmakers out of my mind. To watch these films is to dream--beautiful, disturbing, awkward and challenging. I want perfection in the automobile I drive. I want my art to be messy, and to dare to dream.
R.I.P. Lina Romay.
Read this wonderful remembrance of Lina Romay (warning: accompanying photo is NSFW). I've never been the slightest bit interested in Avatar, but I could watch Jess Franco movies--even the truly awful ones--all day long. Cinema, like any art form, is subjective--a matter of taste. Avatar is made for the widest possible audience, and there's nothing wrong with that...but I guess I don't see what is interesting about it either. On a technical level, it is probably an amazing film. But I don't watch movies (or read books, or listen to music) to be wowed by technical prowess. I want a story, and above all I want soul. A beating heart. Passion. I've never watched a James Cameron movie (and I've actually seen many of his) and thought, "there's a filmmaker in love with cinema." There's no beating heart.
Is cinema at a crossroads? I don't know. Perhaps. Technology has changed our ability to consume and participate in film, just like it has in other art forms. There will always be an evolution taking place. I tend to think cinema is *always* at a crossroads. And in the end, it's not about the art form itself (except, perhaps, to those who actually make films) but the individual works. There is little that comes out today that catches my eye. The only movie I can think of released in 2011 that I wanted to go see was Melancholia. I thought I would be excited about The Hobbit, but it's a funny thing...much as I enjoyed Peter Jackson's LOTR trilogy, the films didn't stick with me at all. Even while watching them, they felt like actors acting in front of a green screen. The films looked perfect, and because of this I could never lose myself in the world he created. I never thought about the movies once I left the theater. Maybe I'm just too old. Yet I can't get Franco's films...or Jean Rollin's...or Andrzej Żuławski's...or any number of other unheralded filmmakers out of my mind. To watch these films is to dream--beautiful, disturbing, awkward and challenging. I want perfection in the automobile I drive. I want my art to be messy, and to dare to dream.
R.I.P. Lina Romay.