Between Synecdoche and Happy, Let The Right One In

Between Synecdoche and Happy, Let The Right One In
Charlie Kaufman, like all students of cinema, surely studied the great works of Sweden's Ingmar Bergman, a director who made melancholy fashionable, and nihilism hip. The sad thing is, Bergman infused much of his work with very sharp, black humor; only most of us either overlooked it, or refused to acknowledge it.
Charlie Kaufman definitely acknowledges the need for humor, and the impact such a contrasting element can lend to the bleakest of scenarios, as found in all his previous works, but lost in Synecdoche.

Read the entire article:Between Synecdoche and Happy, Let the Right One In by M.G. Wood at Orato.com

Cut to the Quick

I'm old enough to remember the days when it would take weeks, even months before a writer received a rejection slip. Now, we're rejected within hours. I guess we should be thankful; the net has lessened the writer's delusory wait time.

This May Well Be My Masterpiece

Quentin Tarantino's Conversation Pieces

The Auteur’s Much Talked About Work – Including Inglourious Basterds

Quentin Tarantino is the modern master of the conversation piece; never failing to provide audiences with something to talk about; through keen and provocative dialogue.

Ever since Quentin Tarantino burst upon the cinema scene in 1992 with Reservoir Dogs, there has been much conversation among critics, about the innovative filmmaker’s work; in particular, his use of stylized violence, and non-linear storytelling.

But, what fans talk about most when they talk about their favorite Quentin Tarantino film, is not about what a character did, but about what a character said.

Read more: http://film-directors.suite101.com/article.cfm/quentin_tarantinos_conversation_pieces#ixzz0PQtuyIkt

The Art of the Conversation Piece

In advance of my forthcoming consideration of Quentin Tarantino's films as conversation pieces (including Inglourious Basterds), I bring you the opening section, about the art of the conversation piece, removed from the final product at the suggestion of my editor.

"That’s an interesting conversation piece" is a common expression, often used when speaking about an inanimate object; an inanimate object with an unusual history, or back story.  But, the origin of the term, conversation piece, actually dates back to the seventeenth century, when artists expanded the scope of portrait painting, by depicting several people gathered together in conversation (usually in a pastoral setting).  17th century art patrons must surely have felt inspired by the portraits; letting their imaginations run wild; examining the settings and locations; studying the people who populate them; and wondering what they're talking about.  In turn, the art of the conversation piece undoubtedly sparked actual conversation; leading those inspired and moved by the portraits to seek out fellow art patrons, as well as family and friends; to talk about these works of art; to carry on in-depth conversations about the paintings they saw, paintings of conversations.

Love and Squalor in Gus Van Sant's Transient Portland

Love and Squalor in Gus Van Sant's Transient Portland (originally posted on American Vulture)

Walt Curtis is a beat poet from Portland, Oregon with a loyal and dedicated group of followers, ranging from hippies to college students to the more liberal-minded cowboy poets of the Pacific-Northwest, not to mention his fellow street artists who continue to work the sidewalks of Portland.

In 1977 Curtis published MALA NOCHE: AND OTHER "Illegal" ADVENTURES, a colorful collection of vignettes about friends and lovers from the streets. The centerpiece of the collection, MALA NOCHE, focuses on Mr. Curtis’s own ill-fated love affair with a Mexican migrant worker.

In 1984, a young man named Gus Van Sant was living and working in and around Portland, dreaming of being a filmmaker. Fully entrenched within the underground art scene, Van Sant was already familiar with the legendary street poet Walt Curtis when he read MALA NOCHE.

Gus Van Sant had no way of knowing that over twenty years later his ragged black and white film of Walt Curtis’ story would be considered a landmark in gay cinema and a template for his most intimate and personal works DRUGSTORE COWBOY (1989) and MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO (1991).

In the film MALA NOCHE, Walt works as a clerk in a liquor store, serving mostly transients and drunks, and the assorted odds and ends living on the street, when Johnny walks in. Johnny is a tall, dark and handsome James Dean-like character who likes to brood and run his fingers through his long hair while waiting to be noticed.

Walt tells us in narration that he is instantly attracted to the young Johnny and sets off to find a way to get closer. Walt makes a cringe-inducing attempt at paying Johnny $15 to sleep with him, only to be rejected. After repeated attempts, it becomes clear that either Johnny is not gay or Johnny is simply not interested. 

Alas, Walt does sleep with Pepper, Johnny’s slightly more adept and amiable friend. The sex scenes are brilliantly choreographed, with very little movement, letting the light and shadow shape and control the action; Van Sant would later frame a similar sex scene in MY OWN PRIVATE IDAHO with the actors positioning themselves in different still poses.

And then one day, Johnny is gone. In their desperate attempt to find Johnny, Walt and Pepper grow closer; but, tragedy soon strikes, placing an added tint of despair to the already candy apple gray proceedings.

There is nothing romantic about street life, but it is beautiful.

Walt Curtis’s story is rooted in the same garbage strewn and blood stained sidewalks that inspired Charles Bukowski and Hubert Selby. And unless you’re looking for a straight documentary like the classic STREEWISE from 1984 (also shot in the Pacific Northwest), Van Sant’s down and dirty cinema-verite depiction of a life less lovely, shot for $25,000, is the sincerest piece of art found on film.

The Klosterman Dilemma

The Klosterman Dilemma

Warning: The following piece includes graphic depictions of self-delusion and narcissism. If for any reason, you feel yourself becoming queasy or light-headed, please cover your eyes immediately, and contact your nearest library or bookstore for instructions on how to cleanse your literary soul. Okay, I am finally reading Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman. Are ya happy, now? After years of avoiding Chuck Klosterman, I succumbed; my change of heart came about partly because I saw an interview with the man himself, and discovered he wasn't nearly as obnoxious as the über-hip, too-cool-for-school Gen-Xer's his work seems to attract like flies at a vegan picnic; and partly because his book, Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs, just happened to be the last book standing in the empty bookshelves of my local used book store, leaving me no other choice, after I'd spent an hour scouring the aisles, desperately searching for something, anything, other than Klosterman.

Okay, and now I come clean; I've read a bit of Klosterman's book, and I'm big enough to admit that the hipster-doofuses are right; he is a very funny and entertaining writer.

But, this fact does not completely resolve my Klosterman dilemma; because, outside the insufferable prigs that adore him, there exists a more selfish reason why I avoided Klosterman all these years; and I feel compelled to confess this egoistic truth: I avoided Chuck Klosterman because in my most self-aggrandizing moments (which are few and far between), I feared his brand of pop culture infused social critiques would inadvertently influence my own work; believing his work to be so sinewy and clever, as to seep into the subconscious mind of any weak-willed and vulnerable writer who dare open themselves up to Klosteman's power. But, alas, the prospect of having my writing irreversibly altered is really the least of my concerns; I mean, who would really notice anyway. In actuality, the worst thing to occur as a result of my reading Klosterman is the fact that I have now lost my right to claim plausible deniability. My right to plausibly deny having ever read Klosterman, has kept the dark side of my mind (the left side; the literal side) in check over the years; while enduring the constant refrain:

"Have you read Chuck Klosterman?"

"You should; your writing is a lot like his."

To which I commonly replied, "Yeah, I hear that a lot; but, no, I've never read his stuff." followed by, "I'm more of a Pauline Kael/Lester Bangs kinda guy."

(Cue the crickets)

The K-Fan then says, "Oh yeah, Lester Bangs; that guy was cool; rock critic; 1970's; punk..." and, wait for it..."Pauline who?" Some may read these words and ask why I would invoke the political/legalese term, Plausible Deniability; and the simple answer is: I now fear that when I get the "Have you read Klosterman" question; my paranoid, narcissistic mind will instantly assume the inquisitor is asking because he or she believes me to be an unoriginal hack, a Klosterman wanna be. And even though this horrific assumption could only flower within the mind of someone who has never read my work, or Klosterman's; it won't stop me from harboring delusions of grandeur; or more precisely, delusions of degradation.

David Lynch's Inland Empire: set contrast high, brightness low, adjust color hue.

This is the first of many (rather raggedy) pieces I will be posting, from my old website, American Vulture: By the time we meet Laura Dern, actress, we have already witnessed three free-floating, disconnected scenes: rabbits performing before a live studio audience, complete with laugh track and applause button; a subtitled scene involving two Polish criminal types; a fuzzy prostitute sitting and crying at the edge of her bed, after performing her first job, before becoming temporarily distracted by the appearance of the aforementioned Rabbit sitcom on TV. Back to Laura Dern, actress; We learn from the first script walk-through with the director, producer and co-star, that the film they are beginning is a re-make of a Polish film that may have been cursed; due to the fact that both leads were murdered in the original production. Laura Dern rehearses her lines with a Southern accent; soon her accent and her personality will bleed into her “real life”; Dern becomes trapped within her character and her character’s life; all encompassed in a great scene where Ms. Dern literally becomes trapped behind a glass window, unable to be heard or seen; for the window she looks out of is a production set, a façade. (One is reminded, while watching INLAND EMPIRE, of Spalding Gray's SWIMMING TO CAMBODIA; in particular, when Mr. Gray reflects back on several weeks of lounging in the lap of luxury, or as he called it, The Pleasure Prison; Mr. Gray bids farewell one by one to all the hedonistic pleasures he had enjoyed, and concludes, “…I suddenly thought I knew what it was that killed Marilyn Monroe.") (One further wonders if INLAND EMPIRE was inspired in some small way by the death of Jack Nance, Mr. Lynch’s friend and muse, who died under mysterious circumstances, outside a donut shop in 1996.) David lynch continues his mission to create an all-natural, chemical-free, completely organic drug; heightening the senses with audio/visual stimulation; the vulnerable recipient helplessly carried away, to an altered state, as the drug is mainlined directly into the eye sockets. To quote Patrick Bateman quoting Huey Lewis, “I want a new drug, One that won't spill, One that don't cost too much, Or come in a pill”. While partaking in the Drug Cinema is not harmful to your health, it remains clearly fatal to the manufacturers; those actors in particular who spend most of their waking life in costumes and make-up; playing on sets, in reconstructions of places real and imagined; often find themselves unable to make the transition back to the real world; leading to a need for something, to help cope with the unpredictable realities of life. And this may be the key to unlocking INLAND EMPIRE; for David Lynch has produced his first Naturalistic piece of work; INLAND EMPIRE is David Lynch’s HEART OF DARKNESS. I can see my lifetime pilin' up I can see it smashin' into yours It was not an accident at all Open your window up - I hear you laughin' -TALKING HEADS

Sag Harbor

Sag Harbor by Colson Whitehead African American Prep Comes of Age in the Summer of 1985 Colson Whitehead's Sag Harbor is a sentimental, semi-autobiographical remembrance of things past; through the eyes of a young prep in his final summer of innocence. Read more: http://americanfiction.suite101.com/article.cfm/sag_harbor_by_colson_whitehead#ixzz0OVNTHeGd

Killer of Sheep

My review of Charles Burnett's classic independent film: Written, directed, and produced by Charles Burnett, Killer of Sheep is a mesmerizing slice-of-life; a snapshot portrait of the African-American experience in 1970's L.A. Read more: http://independentfilms.suite101.com/article.cfm/killer_of_sheep_classic_indie_film_in_review#ixzz0O2Am95PJ

Why are Foreign Films, Foreign? (my response to a friend)

I wrote the following in response to a friend, who wondered why I separated my favorite films into American and Foreign: It's so funny you should say that: "It's funny how we call them foreign films..."; when I was putting the list together, I kept thinking how strange it is that we in the West refer to films made outside our myopic world-view as Foreign. What must the "foreign" cinema makers think: My film is foreign? To whom? It's another example of our strange and silly need to label everything. But, in my defense, I chose to separate my arbitrary lists, simply because the American films I relate to, do speak to a certain American experience; where as most of the "Foreign" films on my list, initially appealed to me, at least partly, because they depicted a certain exotic and unfamiliar world, separate from my own life experience; which in turn expanded my mind and "soul". Having said that, the films that mean the most to me, like Salaam Bombay!, Small Change, City of God, Fanny and Alexander, and Spirited Away, speak to very specific aspects of my life, regarding childhood pain and loss, which are universal.

Favorite Foreign-Language Films (transient though they may be)

*List of All-Time Favorite Foreign-Language Films (transient though they may be): Click on each particular title to learn more about the film. 1. Salaam Bombay (सलाम बॉम्बे!-1988) 2. Small Change (L'Argent de poche-1976) 3. Fanny and Alexander (Fanny och Alexander-1982) 4. City of God (Cidade de Deus-2002) 5. Spirited Away (Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi-2001) 6. Breathless (À bout de souffle-1960) 7. Wings of Desire (or Sky Over Berlin/Der Himmel über Berlin-1987) 8. La Strada (The Road-1954) 9. Day for Night (or American Night/La Nuit américaine-1973) 10. Volver (to return to a place-2006) * This list is in no way intended represent the "best" or the "greatest" films of all-time; I wouldn't even begin to presume such a thing; rather, these are the films that mean the most to me personally; in many ways these films represent different aspects of who I am, as a writer and as a person.

REDS (a short stream-of-consciousness treatise on why I love this film)

Reds was the first film I saw (at about 16), that truly inspired me. And my admiration and love of the film has only grown over the years, with repeated viewings. Reds and The Accidental Tourist are probably the only two films that I love, that could arguably be labeled "romantic" (maybe The Apartment; though I never found the relationship between Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine romantic, as much as desperately poignant). But, I love Reds because of what the film is romantic about: art and politics. And I love the era in which the film is set: the early 20th Century, when artists and liberals lived lives of passion and glory; one of these artists is actually in the film as a "witness", one of my heroes: Henry Miller. Another of my literary idols, playwright Eugene O 'Neill is brilliantly played by Jack Nicholson. And of course, there's the great Diane Keaton, as a wayward feminist. And one of the best performances ever, by Maureen Stapleton as the rip-roaring muckraker Emma Goldman. And Warren Beatty is amazing in his ability to turn in a great performance as John Reed, while concurrently directing the massive epic of a movie. But, more than anything, I love to watch the characters talk, passionately, about art and politics; and about love and marriage; and sex and commitment; and writing. John Reed was a writer; and as portrayed by Warren Beatty, a writer that could never successfully balance his life as an artist with his politics, ideologically or sexually.

Favorite Films of the 2000's

I am in no way presuming to claim Wonder Boys as the “best” film of the 2000’s; I’m simply throwing it out there for consideration, as “The Best of the Decade” lists begin to roll out in the coming months. These are the films that meant the most to me personally over the past decade (assuming nothing earth-shattering comes out in the next 4 months): 1. Wonder Boys (2000) 2. American Splendor (2003) 3. Lost In Translation (2003) 4. The Squid and The Whale (2005) 5. City of God (2002) 6. Mulholland Drive (2001) 7. Spirited Away (2001) 8. Volver (2006) 9. Bad Santa (2003) 10. No Country For Old Men (2007) *Click on a particular title to learn more about the film.

Republicans Bring The Crazy

I just read an article in my local paper about a group of people who gathered to protest President Obama's health care plan. Thank Jeebus! It's good to know there are people to speak for the lowly, downtrodden insurance companies; I mean, who, other than the million dollar lobbyists that own the Republican opposition (and a few "Blue Dog" Democrats) will stand and defend the good and honorable billion dollar health care industry? Which leads me to wonder, if there is any way we can talk the Republican party into having their national convention three years early. The entertainment value of such a thing would be immeasurable. Just the "birthers" alone would be worth the price of admission to that freak show; and the "tea-baggers", who protest against tax increases on the lowly, downtrodden millionaires and billionaires. It's as if the Republicans said, "You think the loony left fringe element of the Democratic party (or as they like to say in their own precious, corny manner, Democrat party) were crazy in the last 10 years?" "Yeah?" "You wanna get nuts?" "Let's get nuts!" "Move aside hippies, let the pros show you how it's done!"

All-Time Favorite American Films (transient though they may be)

This list is in no way intended represent the "best" or the "greatest" films of all-time; I wouldn't even begin to presume such a thing; rather, these are the films that mean the most to me personally; in many ways these films represent different aspects of who I am, as a writer and as a person. So, without further ado... *List of All-Time Favorite American Films (transient though they may be): 1. REDS (1981) 2. My Dinner With Andre (1981) 3. Husbands and Wives (1992) 4. Paris, Tx (1984) 5. Wonder Boys (2000) 6. The Conversation (1974) 7. Inherit The Wind (1960) 8. The Apartment (1960) 9. Marathon Man (1976) 10. The Accidental Tourist (1988) *Click on each particular title to learn more about the film. Coming soon: All-Time Favorite Foreign Language Films (transient though they may be)

Invisible Ink (a revelation of sorts)

I had a revelation of sorts. I can't hand-write anything substantial. Because, it seems as soon as I commit anything significant to paper, with pen, the passion instantly evaporates, as if written in invisible ink. Which explains why I have a trunk full of notebooks; thousands of hand-written pages; all written with heart-felt intent; some quite good; but, as soon as I attempt to transcribe the words to computer memory, I am overcome with indifference; the words lose all meaning. And this is a revelation of sorts, because while I am only now discovering this fact, I don't really know what I'm to learn from this. I can type, revise, edit, reconstruct, reassemble; write in stream-of-consciousness; create from whole cloth a complete and satisfying piece of work, with a keyboard; but, alas, not with a pen.