We’ll never find the answers to the questions she asked him when he was here.
Tag Archives: David Lynch
R.I.P. DAVID LYNCH
No words.
CAPSULE: THE BLUE ROSE (2023)
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DIRECTED BY: George Baron
FEATURING: Olivia Scott Welch, George Baron, Danielle Bisutti, Nikko Austen Smith, Viola Odette Harlow
PLOT: Los Angeles detectives Lilly and Dalton investigate a savage murder and fall into a dream-laden conspiracy.
COMMENTS: It was unplanned, but I ended up waking from one surreal nightmare and immediately stumbled into another. (There’s a lesson to be learned here, perhaps, about the dangers of napping just before watching a David Lynch fan-film.) With his directorial debut, George Baron—not quite twenty years old—has planted his flag firmly in the murky grounds of dream-logic and accented reality, boldly avowing his love of all the flavors of Lynch: bright colors, dark secrets, stylized milieux, and muddled plot structures. Indeed, everything I’ve come to associate with the Montanan Mæstro is on display here, for better and worse, with even the the film’s name and recurring visual motif lifted from the mysterious gent from America’s mountain West. The first question to ask yourself before watching The Blue Rose is: do you like David Lynch movies?
Presuming the answer is in the vicinity of “yes”, do continue; but bear in mind that this is a debut, from an enthusiast, working more from his heart than his head. This is for the best, though; a coldly clinical take on the whole Lynchian thing would make for something both incomprehensible and tedious (as opposed to merely incomprehensible). I’m something of an idiot when it comes to interpreting this kind of thing, so I shall forego plot remarks in favor of a pithy description of the plot’s vibe: The Blue Rose story travels along the narrative line at the intersection of Mulholland Drive and Blue Velvet, with the gee-shucks young detectives (one of them, Dalton, played by George Baron—with none other than Ray Wise as papa detective) traveling a Twin Peaks-y inscape during the heady days of Wild At Heart-spun 1950s Los Angeles, with a subplot involving an Eraserhead–ful baby. There’s probably Lost Highway kicking around in there somewhere, but frankly, there’s a lot going on.
Which is good, because not everything going on here works, so that when you find yourself trapped in a scene or sub-story scenario, you can comfort yourself in the knowledge that sooner or later you will emerge into a new one, with everything tying up far more nicely than Inland Empire could ever dream of. The acting is uniformly uneven, but the two leads are generally on the mark; George Baron’s detective, in particular, has an interesting arc wherein he encounters an alternate, feminine, version of himself during an insane asylum art-installation human showcase. And such—among many—cruel machinations give the cinematography a chance to shine: although the action on-screen is tedious on occasion, the props, costumes, and color-schemes always demand attention.
And speaking of attention, I am interested where this kid (if you’ll pardon my old-man speak) ends up going after this. With a little luck, he’ll find his own path to pursue, as it’s already clear he knows the nuts-and-bolts of filmmaking. But, even if he merely refines his Lynch-pirations, retreading the ground already walked by the auteur, it would be no bad thing to have a younger storyteller on-hand to continue that particular tradition.
So, Mr Baron, hopefully we’ll see you when next we dream in blue.
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
SATURDAY SHORT: A VISIT TO THE DUNE (1984) SET (2024)
Damon Packard‘s latest A.I. experiment is a hallucinatory trip to the set of 1984’s Dune, where pugs romp in the sand and Sean Young is perpetually drunk.
APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: RABBITS (2002)
“…scientists in Steve Heine’s lab at the University of British Columbia wanted to see if acetaminophen could also dampen those feelings of uncomfortable uncertainty that occur when our sense of the meaning of life is threatened — like when we think about our death or watch a surrealist film. To test their theory, they ran two experiments. First, they asked participants to write a few paragraphs about what will happen to their bodies when they die. In the second experiment, they showed participants a clip from David Lynch’s 2002 film ‘Rabbits.’”–The Los Angeles Times, April 18, 2013
DIRECTED BY: David Lynch
FEATURING: Scott Coffey, Laura Harring, Naomi Watts, Rebekah Del Rio
PLOT: Lynch’s own tagline reads, “In a nameless city deluged by a continuous rain … three rabbits live with a fearful mystery.” These human-shaped bunnies occupy a bare living room, where they confirm the time, question whether there have been calls, and occasionally listen to the rantings of a demon, all to the accompaniment of canned applause and laughter.
WHY IT MIGHT MAKE THE APOCRYPHA: “Rabbits” goes pretty far toward weird on its overall theme of dread and foreboding. Absurd in their enormity, the titular animals nevertheless deserve empathy for their moments of uncertainty and terror. What takes the project to another level is the suggestion of a logic underpinning the enterprise. The dialogue is almost entirely non sequitur, but it hints at an order that remains just out of reach.
COMMENTS: To my knowledge, David Lynch has never directed a stage play. But he clearly has an affinity for performances on stages. Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, and “Twin Peaks” are some of the selections from his oeuvre wherein everything stops and someone takes command of the scene to put on a show within the show. So the least surprising thing about “Rabbits” is that Lynch would create a work in which that style of performance was the entire show.
Of course, David Lynch has a very different notion of what constitutes a compelling stage show than most of us. There’s little action. Most “Rabbits” episodes open with sorrowful train horns, a steady rain beating down, and a baleful Angelo Badalamenti theme, while Suzie stands upstage in a dressing gown, ironing, and Jane stays seated on the couch. After a moment or two, Jack walks through the front door in the kind of entrance usually accompanied by a hearty “Hi, honey, I’m home” greeting. Enormous applause from an appreciative audience greets Jack’s entrance, as though he were a TV legend making a welcome return to the small screen. But the stage offers only disquiet.
What follows is mostly disjointed dialogue: “I am going to find out one day.” “There have been no calls today.” “It was a man in a green suit.” There are enough common elements—secrets, lost things, the time of day—to make you feel that the dialogue could be reassembled into something approaching linear coherence, but no sense that doing so would bring clarity.
But that’s not to say “Rabbits” doesn’t mix things up. Two episodes are devoted to monologues, while a third features a haunting musical number. Periodically, the telephone rings ominously, the only event that occasions an insert shot. And on two separate occasions, the room turns dark and an unintelligible monster appears on the back wall. At one point, there is a piercing scream offstage. Two episodes conclude with all of the coneys huddled on the sofa, clinging to each other for whatever comfort they can find. Lynch is almost cruel in calling his creation “a sitcom.”
The production itself is plenty bizarre. Lynch built the stage in his backyard garden and filmed at the same time each night to ensure consistent lighting, much to the annoyance of his neighbors. It appears that it really is Harring, Coffey, and freaking Academy Award-nominee Watts inside those big bunny costumes. And there’s not even a single way to watch the show. It originally appeared on Lynch’s now-defunct website in eight installments. Portions were later incorporated into his next film, Inland Empire. (In fact, those wascally wabbits were our Indelible Image.) He has since reformatted it on his own “David Lynch Theater” YouTube channel as a four-part presentation, minus the installment showcasing Del Rio’s musical contribution. (You can find the pieces assembled into a single presentation, likely taken from Absurda’s out-of-print “Lime Green Box,” while another YouTuber has helpfully adapted the series into an ambient loop, in case LoFi Girl isn’t giving you the focus you need.)
That we are watching something being performed is implicit in the static camera, the characters’ careful respect for the downstage fourth wall, and most notably by the presence of an audience—or at least a raucous laugh track seemingly imported from an episode of “Married… with Children.” The faux audience laughs uproariously at distinctly non-comedic lines, and bursts into effusive applause every time Jack enters the room. It’s unsettling, then oppressive, and ultimately terrifying.
“Rabbits” has remarkable stickiness for such a short and static production. It has the familiar feel of Lynch’s other works, but there’s something pure about the way he whittles away the decadence of his features, including such baubles as scene-setting, linear movement, or continuity. It’s all mood, and the mood is unsettling. It’s easily the grimmest show about rabbits this side of Watership Down. They’re doing their best to hold it together in the face of awful uncertainty, but just barely. And if the rabbits can’t stay strong, what hope is there for the rest of us? As Jane says, “I wonder who I will be.”
WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:
- A collection of his own films picked by director David Lynch, including the Lynch supervised hi def re-mastered edition of Eraserhead, a collection of The Short Films of David Lynch, Blue Velvet with brand new 5.1 sound mix supervised by David Lynch, Wild at Heart, Industrial Symphony No. 1: The Dream of the Broken Hearted, and The Elephant Man, along with new Lynch produced extras and Lynch direc
(This series was nominated for review by panicalmechanical. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)