Jan 23, 2011 12:09
This weekend I went to see Crispin Glover for screenings of two of his movies and Q+A sessions afterwards (and book signings as well). Before the screenings he did a performance of his books which were being projected up on the screen as a slideshow, which is an experience that I can't really explain. The movies (What Is It? and It Is Fine. Everything Is Fine!) were interesting. They're some of the most obscene things I've ever seen, lol, which is saying something. But I don't really think of movies in terms of good and evil, a film is either interesting to me or not. The only parallel I can draw, and just for It Is Fine, is to David Lynch, the vibe is a bit reminiscent of him, only Lynch isn't as shocking. Crispin Hellion Glover really knows how to make the audience deeply uncomfortable and push boundaries, whether it's his intention or because he really just doesn't have the same reaction to the material (probably some combination). By pushing boundaries, what I mean is, I don't know if any filmmaker can ever "break" boundaries for me, because I don't know if there's something that I can't take and potentially accept, that I have a breaking point; but when you see something obscene or shocking to a new extent or in a new way, but don't just shut yourself off to it or leave (which I think is cowardly), but sort of just accommodate it even if it doesn't really comfortably fit inside you, your boundaries have been pushed farther outwards, I guess. You can take more than you thought because you've just taken it, and you hadn't imagined that kind of thing before you saw it. And there may be no point at which your experience of a film would just break, you could maybe go on expanding limitlessly.
Crispin Glover is the most remarkable man; he's very intelligent, and he has such a solid and subtle grasp of language, which I appreciate. He's very precise with his words. He doesn't stammer and he's not awkward, he's just very "precise" in his speech, which is the only word I can think of, and sincere, and sometimes he makes this movement of his head and body when he's talking, where he seems like he's drawing his words from deep inside himself, not ripping them out of him necessarily, but as if he's drawing them up in a long, deep burst, with pretty hard effort, because he wants the words to be right. His mannerisms are endearing, peculiar. He doesn't seem to really belong to this century. Not that he's clueless about the modern world or something, he's obviously a product of it, but he's just such an unusual person, his manner is very different. He seems so precise and earnest in his speech, and he makes everyone around him seem silly and frivolous and loose, pointless with their words. There's nothing really awkward or unnatural about him. He's more serious and intent than most people, analytical and particular, and I guess that's what gives him his air of not being of this century. He doesn't really talk or approach things like most people. I was struck by that. I'm always super-shy at book signings and things, but he makes conversation with absolutely everyone, and I felt like I could have talked to him for a lot longer. He's so interesting.
I got a copy of one of his books, Oak-Mot. They're Victorian children's books, I suppose, which he reshapes and creates a new context for by blacking out text, writing in text, adding his own strange drawings, historical artwork, old scientific diagrams and anatomical illustrations, etc., and the result is sort of stream-of-consciousness, filled with non sequiturs, absurd, and vaguely sinister with this ironic humor. I love their uniquely insane quality.
Anyway, I'm so glad I got to meet him.
I have like 15 articles to proofread for the upcoming issue of Coilhouse by the 27th (all of four days away), uuughh. Though it's the final stage of editing and probably almost all of the mistakes have been caught by now. Better get started.