The Essentials, Part 3: The Strange

          I've been asked over and over again what I find to be the strangest and darkest movies I've ever seen. Even though these sorts of lists will always be subjective, I find it even more subjective to list the weirdest movies I've ever seen. I mean, what I find strange could be something you find totally normal, and vice versa. So instead of just picking out movies that I find weird, I'm going to pull out, as I have before, films that I think used their bucking of trends and formulas to their advantages. These are the films that I would teach a class based around experimentation and a willingness to convey images and ideas not often associated with "the mainstream." In other words, this is probably the closest we're going to get to a list of my truly favorite films.

Un Chien Andalou (1929)

          Luis Buñuel and Salvador Dali's famously bewildering 1929 short film relied heavily on Freudian free-association for its screenwriting and also relied on nightmarish images for its shoot. The film is probably most famous for its eye-slitting scene (pictured above), but I admire this film for going out of its way to freak out its audience. I would even go so far as to call this the first truly successful horror film of all time. Perhaps I am cheating by including this film, seeing as its a short  and all, but I really can't think of a better way to introduce experimental and surrealist filmmaking without subjecting a class full of students to Buñuel's madness. 




Freaks (1932)

          Tod Browning's infamous 1932 film put actual circus "freaks" front and center in the cast. This film came out before the Hollywood morality code, and because of this you'll see much more disturbing imagery and ideas in this film than any Hollywood film made in the 1940's or 1950's. Upon its release, Freaks some serious controversy for its unusual subject matter and frank depictions of deformity and human suffering. And, for 1932, this was an astoundingly bleak and original vision. Over the years, Freaks has achieved a strong cult following for both its subject matter and for the novelty of the time in which it was made. 




Cat People (1942)

          Jacques Tourneur made Cat People because he was fascinated by America's fear of female sexuality. The film focuses on Irena, a woman who is terrified by her own animalistic desires. Animals constantly call out to her. Sometimes she blacks out and has no idea where she was. She is afraid to sleep with her husband because of what might happen. Before long, Irena is transforming into a wild animal and killing whatever gets in her way. She cannot control her body or her thoughts. Tourneur's film is not only a landmark horror film with its willingness to let the true scares happen offscreen, but it is also perfect for a college class with all of its (for its time) progessive themes and ideas.


Pickup on South Street (1953)

          Many mid-twentieth century cult films play with the subject of human sexuality in obscure and interesting ways. Pickup uses the imagery of a pickpocket on the prowl as a symbol for men who steal women's hearts. It's not a subtle bit of artistry, but the film uses this motif in interesting ways. Skip, the pickpocket, steals Candy's wallet -- a wallet which just happens to hold important communist information--and begins a complicated game of cat and mouse. This is one of Sam Fuller's Noir exercises, and he uses the genre's German Expressionistic roots to his advantage. A simple espionage film turns into a statement about human sexuality and sexual politics in the 1950's.



8½ (1963)

          Fellini's films are often surreal, but few of them are able to implement their surrealist elements as organically as this film. A filmmaker struggles with the weight of expectation as he tries to film a movie that he has not yet written. He is surrounded by critics, reporters, and fans who all want to be a part of his newest masterpiece, but he has no idea how the movie will end. Fellini's film is a huge influence for the Cate Blanchett section of Todd Haynes's I'm Not There, and for good reason--this film is one of the great, uncompromising works of fiction that describes just how hard it is to live the life of the artist. 




Persona (1966)

          Persona not only plays with ideas surrounding identity and fame and mental illness, but the film itself is unusual in the way it was written, shot, and edited. The film concerns a mentally ill movie star who moves to a secluded island with a nurse. Most of the first half of the movie is a monologue from the nurse, who is trying to cut the silence left by the movie star with stories of her past. However, at the halfway point, the film switches focus. The film literally breaks, the identities switch, and confusion ensues. This film was a huge influence on the production of Robert Altman's 3 Women and David Lynch's Mulholland Drive.



Brazil (1985) 

          This film has nothing to do with Brazil, unless you count its soundtrack. Terry Gilliam's strange, surreal, and hilarious take on the future is one of the most unique film experiences that you can find. It is George Orwell seen through the lens of Franz Kafka. It is the nightmare of bureaucracy reaching its logical conclusion. The film concerns a case of mistaken identity that gets very, very out of hand. Gilliam's effects work mixed with his amazing ability to turn everything into a strange, dreamlike moment of surreality makes Brazil his crowning achievement.


Waking Life (2001)

          Richard Linklater has made his fair share conversation movies. These films are usually just focused on listening to people talk about interesting and strange things they've seen in their lives. Slacker and Before Sunrise are probably his most famous conversation movies. However, I find Slacker kind of tedious and annoying because it seems to only have on perspective and that perspective is quite young. With Waking Life, Linklater has matured a little bit and decided to let in all sorts of points-of-view. The subjects discussed range from talk about dreams and death to talk about cell regeneration and governmental ethics. It's all over the map, and it meanders with its deliberate pacing. Fortunately, on top of the engaging conversations is a fascinating rotoscope animation that keeps the visuals of the film fresh and dynamic.


Inland Empire (2006)

          If you've been keeping up with this blog for any amount of time, you'll know that I have a bit of a thing for David Lynch. And Inland Empire is, in my opinion, his greatest film. It is everything he has been working toward. He plays with identity, gender, fame, fiction, dreams, death, violence, betrayal, and love in this film with equal success. It is strange, scary, funny, and spellbinding. I believe there is no other film that could end a course on "weird" movies. This is the culmination of all the experiments that came before it.




What did I miss? What are some of your "strangest" films? 

Misinterpreted: Wild At Heart

          Roger Ebert, before he decided that he liked David Lynch after all upon the release of Mulholland Drive, found Wild At Heart to be a wildly unbalanced, tonally confusing, and offensively violent failure of a film. Ten years later, Ebert praised Inland Empire for the exact same thing. He called the latter a bold, ambitious vision that few directors can achieve. I'm glad that Ebert appreciates Inland Empire for all of its idiosyncrasies, but it feels unfair that Ebert would wait until Lynch is almost universally loved in the world of film criticism before he started giving the director the benefit of the doubt.

           In his reviews for ERASERHEAD, Blue Velvet, and Wild At Heart, Ebert criticizes the way Lynch's movies don't explain themselves. He acts as if Lynch has no big plan for his films, and that they are just random moments of style that amount to an empty experience. He criticized Blue Velvet for its sexuality, ERASERHEAD for its dense imagery, and Wild At Heart for its violence. He said it was a director pushing buttons for the sake of controversy, and that Lynch's films are full of hate.

           Not to sound dramatic, but there are people who believe that Huck Finn is a racist novel because there's racism in it. Just because something depicts cruel acts of humanity, this does not mean that that product endorses cruel acts.

           Yeah, Wild At Heart is violent. It begins with Sailor Ripley (Nicolas Cage) beating an African-American man to death in one of the most shockingly violent scenes I've ever seen. Sailor, our hero, committing such acts of violence so early in the film is indicative of the kind of journey Lynch is taking us on.

         
           Sailor is not a hero. He is young, impulsive, passionate, and free. He represents the dream of 1950's youth--the invincible, endlessly cool lover who will do anything "for [his] girl." He is Elvis and James Dean rolled into one. From his snakeskin jacket to his oiled hair, he is the epitome of style.

           In a sense, Sailor is the embodiment of what Ebert accused Lynch's films of being--good style, easy on the eyes, but, ultimately, empty. To call the characterization of Sailor broad-stroked and lacking of any subtlety is not a criticism, but an observation. His violence, his raw sexuality, his hatred--these are all elements used to describe an ideal. And, as the movie continues, the viewer should come to realize that the film does not like Sailor. The film wants Sailor to change, but he can't. How can he? He's an ideal. He isn't a real person.
       
          You could say that I'm reading the film this way because I love David Lynch. You're probably on to something. Once I commit to a filmmaker or painter or singer, I am fiercely committed to that artist and love what he or she does. However, with Wild At Heart, I think there's a good argument for my reading of the film.

         It becomes clear early on that the film is a loose (and I mean loose) adaptation of The Wizard Of Oz, complete with a good and bad witch and a road onto which the heroes must journey. Now, let's think about The Wizard of Oz for a second. What is Dorothy? Is she a character lovingly designed with subtlety and nuance? No, she's the ideal little girl. She is innocent and sweet and cannot stand when other people are hurt. Like Sailor, she is a representation of a dream. She must be read this way for us to invest in her story.

       Now look at Sailor. He is 1950's America (a subject Lynch never really seems to stray from), and he represents every ignorant, hateful, alienating aspect of the decade and what it represents. Lula Fortune (Laura Dern) is in love with his spirit. He is a go-getter, a fighter, a man who fully believes in his own convictions, and for the duration of the film, these convictions all center around her.

          Lula is the way people of Sailor's ideal view women. She is the pinup, the codependent, the passionate virgin looking for adventure. Her obsession with Sailor is poisonous. It infects her life and her relationship with the outside world. She very literally goes to the edge of the Earth to keep Sailor in love with her. You see that picture up there? Lula spends approximately 80% of the film in a position very similar to that one. Most of her dialogue is the exclamation "Sailor!" She is not a real person. She can't be. She is a type, just as Sailor is, and when Lynch puts both of these types into the same room, they explode.

        The rational world cannot handle these extreme examples of 1950's idealism. They are embroiled in a tragic romance not unlike Bonnie and Clyde, or the lovers in Terrence Malick's Badlands, or even Romeo and Juliet.

         What sets them apart from these other tragic love stories is that they are aware of their own story. From the earliest point, it becomes clear that Lula and Sailor are knowingly and willingly becoming entrenched in a tragic love affair. They are exhilarated by the knowledge of their own demise. Each time Sailor gets in a fight, or drives his car too fast and too dangerously, or lights up a cigarette, Lula smiles and screams with glee. Only true love can burn so bright. Only true life must be ejected from this world. Only true love can inspire the monsters to attack.

          As in The Wizard of Oz, the journey of the hero is tested. In the case of Wild At Heart, the hero is Sailor Ripley, and the journey is his path toward enlightenment. For Dorothy, her true test was a fight against the Wicked Witch--a woman who hates where she is from and what it represents. The witch represents, for Dorothy, the way that she may end up if she doesn't change her mind about her family and her home. She may end up alone in a tower, hating everything that's content.

         For Sailor, his Wicked Witch Bobby Peru (Willem Dafoe). Peru is the end result of what Sailor is slowly becoming. He is impulsive to a fault--exploding into violence at the smallest whim, and his sexuality is so strong that it is hostile. Peru is mean and closed-minded. He is a dark example of arrogance and brute strength. He knows what he wants and he gets it with God on his side. Sailor sees himself in the man. He knows that, if he doesn't watch out, he will become Bobby Peru.

        Wild At Heart is a fable. This is not one of David Lynch's complex dissections of the human identity. It is a morality a tale, a pretty straightforward one at that, and it uses its Wizard of Oz imagery to guide viewer in his/her understanding of it. The film is often considered a misfire, despite the fact that it won the Palm D'or at the Cannes Film Festival, because of its unusual tone and bizarre sense of humor, but I find it to be one of the director's most enduring and interesting films of his career.


        If you've never seen it, definitely give it a look. If you've seen it before and you are shaking your head at the lengths I will go for my fanboy passions, then you should watch it again. Perhaps you'll change your mind.

How do you feel about this movie? Let me know in the comments. 

Underrated: Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me

          If you've been following this blog for any reasonable amount of time, you should know by now that I adore the films of David Lynch. Of course, this should come as no surprise, as a film lover obsessing over David Lynch is about as common as finding somebody who watched Seinfeld in the '90's. Even though my love of David Lynch is nothing special, I would say that my love of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me is definitely something that turns heads.

        This is because a lot of David Lynch fans are really only allowed to like a handful of his movies. These are the movies that get written about endlessly by critics for peer-reviewed journals. You know the ones: Blue Velvet, Mulholland Drive, The Elephant Man, and, to a lesser extent, Lost Highway and Eraserhead. Blue Velvet is especially well-liked amongst cinephiles. College professors like to crowd around and discuss the many sexual and psychological implications behind the movie. They argue over the intentions behind the film's soundtrack's juxtaposed qualities, that final image of the robin's manufactured esthetic, the performances, etc. Blue Velvet was released at the perfect time for a lot of the more highly-regarded film academics working today. They were my age, as it were, and when you're my age, you are very easily won over by style, creative invention, and artistic risk. Blue Velvet had all of this.

         It was no surprise that Twin Peaks, the "David Lynch TV show," became a huge critical hit upon its release in 1990. It was strange, funny, scary, dramatic. The "Lynchian" qualities of the show, you know, those strange things that nobody can really define, were mostly marginalized for the viewer. Yes, BOB is really scary. Yes, the owls ARE watching, but most of these absurd elements are treated with a tongue-in-cheek tone.

        The show works well on multiple levels, as a satire of late 20th century soaps, a murder mystery, a character study, and so on. And when something so original, so married to a particular style, becomes overwhelmingly famous, there is always going to be a certain resentment from the artist. All of a sudden, David Lynch was in a box.

          The show became so popular with audiences that huge groups of fans lashed out against Lynch for not revealing Laura Palmer's killer during the first season finale (Sound familiar The Killing fans?). He was under a huge amount of pressure from the studio to solve the murder and appease his fans. But, honestly, does Lynch ever do anything to please his fans? Does the man who gave us this scene really like to make his audience feel good?

No.

          Lynch has gone on record as saying that revealing the killer (which I won't do here) was the worst thing that could have ever happened to the show. Even though, one could argue, that revelatory episode is one of the single greatest hours to ever broadcast on television.

         Lynch began to feel caged by his own sensibilities. The show was a runaway hit, and the fans had expectations that Lynch could not meet. His films always focus on the ambiguities of life, on the nonexistence of true identity, on the evil and the good that war within us. He is not so much focused on following expectation.

        To confirm my point, I would like for you to see his output. One G-rated disney film. One huge-budget sci-fi adaptation. One biopic. Several undefinables. A 16-minute Lady Dior commercial. A music album.

       He left the show halfway through the second season to work on another project. That project would eventually turn into the Palm D'or winning film Wild At Heart. Another David Lynch film that is remarkably underrated (more on that next week).

      And, after a prolonged (and mostly rambling) second season, Twin Peaks left the air-ways with a finale that raised more questions than answers. Viewers were, once again, pissed at a show that continued to subvert expectations and take true risks. You know, those qualities that made the show so successful to begin with.

     The fans were so vocal about their complaints that David Lynch was able to fund a film set in the Twin Peaks universe. "Hooray!" the fans said in rejoice. "We finally get to know what was going on with Dale Cooper at the end of that finale!"

      Wrong again. Dale Cooper has a cameo in the film.

As does David Bowie!

          The film takes place during the week of Laura Palmer's murder. For the film, Lynch injected a bucket-load more of surrealism into the mix and removed much of the show's tongue-in-cheek humor. And, since there is almost no Dale Cooper, the film is mostly anchored by a performance from Sheryl Lee, who does all she can to hold the film together with her limited acting experience.

         Fire Walk With Me is a mean film. There are no more playful scenes between the characters, no more quirky, funny one-liners from zany small-town folks. In fact, this is probably Lynch's darkest, most atmospheric effort of his entire career (including Inland Empire, let us not forget "The Locomotion"). The surrealistic qualities of the film lend it an otherworldly feeling. Everybody seems to be in on something that the audience never fully understands. The Black Lodge has much more significance in the film, and its use is absolutely puzzling for those who have not recently (or ever) watched the show.

          Allegedly, there is enough footage of the film for Lynch to release a second part, but he prefers the jagged edges of the finished product. He prefers its truncated scenes and frustrating need to keep things from its viewer. And, honestly, so do I. The film has a certain power to it.

          From the moment Chris Isaak and Keifer Sutherland become surprise protagonists to the moment where the photograph of the door reveals itself within the plot, I am hooked on this movie. I am constantly amazed by its artistic risk. For a film based on a beloved franchise with a huge built-in audience, Fire Walk With Me is definitely a financial and artistic risk.

          But perhaps the word risk is giving Lynch's intentions too much credit. The word risk implies that financial success was possible. No, this film bombed. It was strange, scary, dark, violent, ambiguous, and mean. There is a violence in this movie that cannot be controlled.

          To go into exactly why this movie is so scary is to give away the identity of the killer, but let's just say this movie goes places you rarely see in any movie, let alone a movie based on a popular television show.

       Maybe Fire Walk With Me is a tad disjointed. Perhaps the performances are a little stilted. And, yes, maybe the movie is a little too weird. But I am in love with it. I am in love with the integrity Lynch brings to the product. I am in awe of the way he subverts expectations, and I cannot possibly imagine a more fitting way for Lynch to leave the series behind.


[Note: Strangely enough, this movie is hugely popular in Japan. I don't even...]

Jettisoned Into Obscurity: More Context (5-1)

Cameron Cook = Age ?

     Here we are, the five (okay...six) movies that I love completely and totally from the very, very bottom of my heart. I'll compile a list that spans from my number 10 to my number thirty spots at the end of the post.

And to make myself totally clear, these are my favorite English-language films. If I were including all of world cinema we'd be here all day. Sometimes a man needs restrictions. 

5. Eyes Wide Shut

     I can think of no other director that manipulated audiences the way that Stanley Kubrick did. Case in point, Eyes Wide Shut. When Stanley Kubrick was on the verge of releasing his newest film in over a decade, he cut all of the trailers and TV spots himself. The previews advertised a film full of Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise sexing around New York to zany circus music. What the audience got was a film about a man trying, desperately, to have sex but never actually getting any. Kubrick put the audience in the same frustrated state as the character, and it apparently did exactly what Kubrick wanted it to do, namely, alienate audiences and critics alike.
     When the film came out, everybody was disappointed. Critics, fans, casual moviegoers, they all agreed that Kubrick had crafted a completely disgusting and degrading film. It objectified women, it made men out to be shallow and irresponsible, it made the rich look ridiculously stupid and boring, and it basically ended the Cruise/Kidman marriage.
     Well, the problem is, that is all completely accurate. Kubrick is just pulling a Mark Twain. Throw in a little satire that hits too close to home and everybody gets all upset, but this should not have been a shock to anybody. What are Dr. Strangelove, Lolita, Clockwork Orange, and Killer's Kiss if not satires? Those films were extremely successful and acclaimed. What happened with Eyes Wide Shut?
    Ambiguity happened.
    The film is full of unanswered questions. There is also a blending a genre in the film that disturbs audiences to no end. The problem is that it is not completely satire. There is an emotional and disturbing core to the film that asks the question: Why do you trust your spouse? How far can trust go? Does love equal sex? Those questions are difficult, and they are presented in the film in a realistic manner. The film has found legs over the last decade and it has finally achieved the status of Kubrick's other films. But it still seems to carry the stigma of being Kubrick's dud.

View the trailer here

4. A Serious Man

     The Coen brothers are not scared of doing whatever they want. They've built an entire career with films that go against the mainstream. Their plots, characters, lines of dialogue, and visual techniques are so idiosyncratic and original that it is always obvious that they have written and directed the film. From Blood Simple to True Grit, the Coens have always had a clear fingerprint on their work.
    And while I love all of their movies, some more than others, I have to admit that I never thought they had a masterpiece on their hands until I saw A Serious Man. There have always been elements that I like in their films, but there is almost always another something that eats at me. Anything from the ridiculous subplots of Burn After Reading to the absurdly broad performances in otherwise serious scenes (I'm looking at you Michael Lerner in Barton Fink and Joe Polito in Miller's Crossing), there is almost always something in one of their films that dampens the experience.
    In other words, I've always had fun with their films. But only once have I found one of their films truly great and moving in all the right places.
     A Serious Man is about many things. Judaism, Marriage, Fatherhood, Teaching, Life, Sibling Rivalries, Death, Divorce, Racism, PTSD, Ritualism. It has a little something for everybody.
     What is magic about this film is that it completely gets the book of Job. I mean that in the sense that Job is all about ambiguities (something you'll find in all of my favorite movies). It is considered by some scholars that the frame narrative of Job was added after the book was written in order to provide a clearer image to the story. The Coens, in their retelling of Job, wisely replace the beginning argument between God and Satan with a strange and haunting parable.
     Not only that, but they have done something very, very nice with the ending that answers many more questions than you might think (a look at Job would really be helpful, both before and after the viewing). The performances are perfect, the editing is perfectly paced, and the ending will knock you dead.

View what might be the best trailer ever here

3. Inland Empire

     Inland Empire is a rare bird. In many ways, it's not too different from a terrible movie, and I mean that with the utmost respect. There's just something off about it. The whole thing. The cinematography is unusually grainy and the images are eerily close to their subjects. The dialogue editing feels arhythmic. Sometimes it takes up to five seconds for a person to respond to a question. The sound editing is strange. What is that low rumble taking over the soundtrack? Why can we hear everything? The breathing, footsteps, the sounds of lips over teeth, it's all there. 
    The world is both hyper-real and hyper-cinematic. There's no cinematic masking covering up distasteful sounds or unflattering angles. The film all at once feels like a documentary and a dream. It's over three hours long, but it feels longer. The images are muddy. 
    And yet, when it's all said and done, the movie has gathered everything up and slapped you in the face with it. It is a dream. It is a nightmare. It is everything that Lynch has been trying to do for over thirty years. This is the film he has been making his whole life. Every image, every sound, and every cut is perfectly placed. 
    Be warned, the film is also absolutely terrifying. 
    Be warned, it's probably the most polarizing film ever made. 


View the trailer here


2. Paris, Texas

     Paris, Texas will make a grown man cry. 
       What can I say? It has everything. It has every single little thing I could ask for. 
      A brilliant blues soundtrack from guitar-god Ry Cooder, 
      a gorgeous visual style from cinematographer Robby Muller, 
      a devastating screenplay by Sam Shepard, 
      and of course, pitch-perfect direction from Wim Wenders. 
      Harry Dean Stanton, Nastassia Kinski, and Dean Stockwell give excellent performances in this film about a man who tries to get everything back after a psychotic break and total loss of memory. But does he succeed? The answer to that question is completely up to the viewer. And you all know how much I love my ambiguity. 


View the trailer here


1. Synecdoche, New York

     This is the one. This is the film that did everything I wanted. My wedding vows will be about Synecdoche, New York. 
       Where do I even start? With the perfect screenplay? How about the amazing soundtrack? Okay, here's what I'll do, I'll talk about the cast. Tom Noonan, the criminally underutilized actor/director, is a revelation in this film as the Caden(Philip Seymour Hoffman)'s stalker. His final moments in the film are magnetic, haunting, beautiful. Diane Wiest steals the third act of the movie. Samantha Morton ages 60 years so believably that you forget you're watching a movie. 
       And there's Philip Seymour Hoffman. That beautiful, beautiful man. How his performance didn't sweep every awards show imaginable is proof that award shows are retarded. In fact, this film was nominated for nothing. NOTHING. Criminal. 
      Another thing that's criminal is giving away too much about the plot of this movie. It's up to you to take the initiative. Do you trust me enough to watch a movie with a title like that? 


      You'll be glad you did. 


View the trailer here


Favorite International Films 

1. Winter Light
2. Yi-Yi
3. Zerkalo
4. Battle Royale
5. Eight and a Half
6. The White Ribbon
7. Andrei Rublev
8. Scenes from a Marriage 
9. Mother 
10. Amores Perros 

11-30 (In no particular order, the numbers are arbitrary)

11. True Stories

12. The King of Comedy

13. Love & Death

14. I'm Not There

15. The Fountain

16. The Graduate

17. Being There

18. Opening Night

19. Brazil

20. Short Cuts

21. Punch-Drunk Love

22. Jackie Brown

23. Ghost Dog:The Way of the Samurai

24. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

25. The Thin Red Line

26. Dancer in the Dark

27. Crimes and Misdemeanors 

28. Gangs of New York

29. The Killing of a Chinese Bookie

30. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

I want to hear from you guys: what are some of your favorite movies and why?

Films That Didn't Beat The odds but should have: Southland Tales

     Think back to 2003. In this magical land of yesteryear, a filmmaker named Richard Kelly is finally gaining recognition for his 2001 film Donnie Darko. The DVD release of the film (as well as a contract with HBO that stipulated almost constant play for a year) makes Donnie Darko a coveted film for teenagers who view themselves as outcasts, whether that is true or not. The film feeds into the belief that outcast, misunderstood teenagers are actually magical, and not just seemingly so. While Darko has plenty of flaws (some silly moments that are inexplicably highly regarded such as the "Why are you wearing that stupid man suit" line...), it is definitely the debut film of a director with true talent. From the perfectly realized soundtrack to the excellent casting, the film, the original edit, not the director's cut,  really does hold up. So you can only imagine the immense interest in Richard Kelly's follow up to the cult phenomenon.
     But don't forget, this is still 2003. Kelly has just announced the title of his follow up film, Southland Tales, and he promises more characters, more story, more budget, and more soundtrack. People are floored, they can't wait. Internet forums are abuzz. We can't wait to see his newest magical outcast movie.
     Then something happens...
     Something strange....
     It is announced that Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson is attached.
     Not only is Johnson attached, but Jon Lovits and Justin Timberlake. Keep in mind that it is 2003, and Timberlake is years from proving himself worthy of acting chops (Social Network, Black Snake Moan). There's more! Sarah Michelle Gellar is in it too! And she plays a porn star! Oh yeah, don't forget Stiffler from American Pie...
     Okay, so he loses interest pretty fast. Now it's 2004, and the hipster cult of Donnie Darko is outright confused and angry about the bizarre (and, like, mainstream) casting of Kelly's new film. So interest in the project falters, and is later almost completely lost.
    2005: Domino, written by Kelly and directed by none other than Tony Scott, is released. It is given adequate reviews and adequate box office returns. In other words, it is not a failure or a success, so Kelly is given no real press. Besides, the hipster cult has now all but moved on to follow the slightly more prolific Wes Andersons and Darren Aronofskys of the world. No harm there, they're both great.

This poster didn't help, either...

     In late 2006 Southland Tales finally reaches DVD shelves all over the country. Although it enjoyed a limited theatrical release, people tend to go ahead and believe that it is a straight-to-DVD film with mildly famous celebrities in it. Except for Timberlake, who is still fairly successful before his career renaissance.
     The film has a soundtrack by Moby (yes, that Moby), a 145 minute runtime, a wildly complex plot, a couple of musical-style scenes, and near infinite references to other films, novels, television shows, and religions. It features characters with personality and drive. It features Wallace Shawn! And the scary lady from Poltergeist! We see cars having sex! There are blimps, shoot-outs, flying ice cream trucks, time-loops, and political agendas! To put it mildly, the film is a mess.
     Yet somehow it works. From the narration that gives the film a thread (lacking in the Cannes release) and the soundtrack that ties scenes together, the audience experiences the film as a ride in a sort of alternate universe. The scenes don't really mesh because we are given a glimpse into a "what if?" world. It's like a David Lynch film, a director that has clearly influenced Kelly, you watch it like a dream that only threads thematically, not through narrative.
     Filmmaking with this kind of passion and honesty does not come very often. We are given the rare opportunity to see directly into his head without any sort of manipulation by producers. Aronofsky did this with The Fountain, David O. Russell did this with I heart Huckabees, and Lynch did this with INLAND EMPIRE, and all of these films have found a niche audience based mainly on the names of the directors. Kelly's Southland Tales has found very little success in the years since its release, but I would say that its quality is ten times what his The Box is, and I would rate Tales over Darko any day of the week for its absolute dedication to its world and to the many, many references it makes to other works. There is always something new to find in the film, and always some subplot that is opening itself up to be discovered.
     If you missed this film upon its release, or if you saw it and didn't let its zany, strangely toned atmosphere sweep you off your feet, I ask you, please reconsider this outstanding work.