The Sens(ibility) of Inland Empire

Just a few weeks ago I got to catch the premiere of David Lynch's new film Inland Empire at the New York Film Festival. After waiting in life for forty minutes at Lincoln Center...voila we had scored $10 tickets to a movie that, at that time had yet to find a U.S. distributor and was more or less considered the hottest ticket at the Festival.

So, to be fair I missed the first forty minutes due to a last minute meeting but for a movie that finished up at 172 minutes, and was fairly incomprehensible in the 132 minutes that I did catch I don't feel like I missed out on much. Was it amazing and mind blowing you ask? Is Lynch's foray into DV opening up the medium? Was he able to outdo the weirdness that was cowboy and the midget from Mulholland Drive? Shockingly, the answer to all of these questions is yes, and while I'm not sure I saw a good movie or a movie that I enjoyed I did get to see David Lynch, Laura Dern, and Justin Theroux a mere 10 feet in front of me!

As for the movie I'm not sure I could or want to try break it down narratively. I'm more interested in the questions it raised for me more generally. One of the interesting questions that cropped up during the Q&A after the movie was whether the film could come together in a coherent form for the viewer? To which Lynch (rather charmingly I thought) responded "Of course". I now actually believe he sees his visions as pretty clear and comprehensible, which I suppose any artist would; otherwise why bother conveying it. He did mention that there was a dream logic at work, and loose a term as that is I think it's an apt one for the narrative disjunction in his films. The one thing we can all confidently say about our dreams is that something is threading them together, we just can't always articulate what that is.

As a viewer I wonder what to do with a film like Inland Empire that has a couple of identifiable themes (simultaneous seduction and ephemerality of Hollywood, subjection and objectification of women) but it's not really clear what he's doing with them. In this case Laura Dern plays multiple characters who start and end with dreams of success in Hollywood. In between are a slew of characters that stumble in and out of her life and her dreams with a couple of male characters being exceptionally crude and offensive. One thing I question consistently with a director like Lynch, who clearly aims to break new aesthetic ground in cinema is how the audience should treat the final project? Is it a piece in a larger artistic endeavor or can we pick it apart on its own merits and failures? I think this is especially important because we are always looking for people to push boundaries and make something new, but I think the key here is relevance. I'm not sure he always achieves it.

As far as form goes the quality of DV is pretty weak. Although there were a plethora of interesting shots, set pieces, and music the overall look of it was pretty grainy and mottled. However, both Laura Dern and Justin Theroux talked about the kind of freedom they enjoyed as actors, because the camera was always rolling, and they didn't have to reshoot from multiple angles. I could see this being a really great tool for directors and actors alike, and changing the medium for those very reasons.

I will just say that despite how confusing I find Lynch his influence is undeniable. After watching a few episodes of Lost recently it's clear how much it benefitted from Twin Peaks.

~The end.

Bow down to Borat

So, if the premiere is any indication this movie is going to be diggety dope. That's right EW it will be both the funniest and most offensive movie out this year. Those things actually co-exist pretty easily.

Hume or Kames? You decide.

There's a really great piece in last week's New Yorker about the predictability of movie box offices by Malcolm Gladwell. The question at the center of this debate is one I find fascinating: Are there a quantifiable set of factors that make a movie a success for the vast majority of audiences?
Or is it as Scottish philosopher David Hume would have us believe...

"Beauty is no quality in things themselves, It exists merely in the mind which contemplates them; and each mind perceives a different beauty.”

According to Gladwell's profile the motley trio of Epagogix is on the side of Kames--not only can we quanitfy these things, but we should, and make box office numbers the literal bottom line of filmmaking.

While I'm equal parts fascinated and horrified by this approach (the fascination really stems from my lack of quant skills) what I'm really curious about is how much the little factors play into the success of a film. The example in the piece cites The Interpreter, Sydney Pollack's relatively unsuccessful film set in the U.N. According to Epagogix the choice to set it in a pseudo African country, the inability to capitalize on the romance of the U.N. as a location(what the frak? since when did bureaucrats equal romance?), and too much ambiguity made this film a failure.

So, is it really this logical? A good film is quantifiable? The article noted this approach is already used with relative success in music, but I wonder if this could or would ever extend to other artistic modes? I suppose music and film are the most overtly commercial, and thus lend themselves to this approach pretty easily but I still can't accept this notion. Ultimately I think it suggests that there is no ambiguity in art and that, as anyone who has ever been overwhelmed, perplexed, annoyed, shocked, etc. by a movie or a piece of music will tell you is just not true.

Been to the movies lately? Nah, but I'm not sure I could tell you why.

Okay, so I'm not diagnosing it as an official problem yet but I haven't seen a movie in months. Well, that's not exactly true because I did recently attend a MAJOR movie event (soon to be blooged about), but it was an anomaly in an otherwise dry period for me. So, naturally being the curious person that I am I have to ask myself why? Why would a person who loves movies stay away from them for the last few months? It's not even like it's the summer blockbuster season. There are actually good, even great things out right now and I just haven't been motivated to see them.
Even more strange I find myself not wanting to see the movies that people rave about/I'm confident will be good. Exhibit A--Little Miss Sunshine, a movie that had quality entertainment written all over it. The trailer looked great, it had a great cast, and everyone I know who saw it said it was good, but the more I heard about it the less I wanted to see it. Now, I chalk some of this up to a general desire right now to be perverse, but I think there is a deeper reason for my lack of movie interest. Part of it is my larger commitment to television right now (I feel like the big networks have rolled out one of the best seasons ever content-wise) and the other part of it is a growing fear that every movie I want to see won't really be satisfying.
Exhibit B--The Science of Sleep, a movie I've been reading tons about and whose director I adore. So, why haven't I seen it yet despite the fact it's playing roughly 1/4 mile away from where I am right now? The answer is as simple as it is silly: The longer I go without seeing a movie the more fear I have about the one that will break the spell. Will it be good enough? Will it entertain? Will it re-energize my love for movies?

Well, you can see the conondrum here...and I suspect there is only way to solve this one. Tomorrow I'm going to the movies, and hopefully I'm going to laugh, cry, and fall in love with them all over again.