Showing posts with label Harry Dean Stanton. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Harry Dean Stanton. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Wise Blood

Wise Blood (Jhon Huston,* 1979) Flannery O'Connor's excoriating look at religion (in general) and Christianity (in particular) is one bitter chalice of wine, satirical, venomous, and with a savage wit that doesn't seem so comic as you see it playing out.  And the man who directed The Bible (and, rapscallion that he was, cast himself as Noah and The Voice of God), John Huston, takes O'Connor's fire-brand of a novel, and without being too showy, manages to dim the outrageousness and make it a little more real, and a little more relatable.

Brad Dourif (a sadly underused actor) heads the cast as Hazel Motes, just off the bus from the Army. He returns home to find the home of his preacher-father (played by Huston) abandoned. You never steer too far away from the family tree, and when Hazel buys himself a new black suit, more than one person says it makes him look like a preacher, which raises Hazel's ire. He intends to live his post-service life as unpreacherly as possible, despite appearances.

Going to town, he reluctantly gains one disciple, Enoch Emery (Dan Shor), not the most stable of followers, and has a run-in with the un-right Reverend Asa Hawks (Harry Dean Stanton) and his daughter Sabbath Lily (Amy Wright), which incenses Hazel, and shouts that he is going to create his own church, The Church Without Christ, just to show that he can do it, and to expose the chicanery of Hawks, who poses as blind and an interpreter of the word.  No one is what they seem: Sabbath Lily, while pretending to be virginal, is actually slatternly and pursues Hazel, something Asa approves of, as he wants to ditch her and travel light.

Hazel then has problems with another "preacher," Hoover Shoats (Ned Beatty), who creates his own church, The Holy Church without Christ (see the difference?), where its followers can interpret the Bible according to their own personal tastes.  That church takes off, with the help of its own direct interpreter of God's Word (played by William Hickey).  Hazel has lost control of his religious idea (such as it is), losing his Faith and his flock simultaneously, sending him into a murderous frenzy, then into a period of madness in which he rails against false gods, false relics and anything that smacks of devotion, then leading to an ascetic lifestyle that involves wrapping himself in barbed wire, before he can pay for his sins.  Creepy.  And harsh.

Huston keeps a lid on the blackness and bleakness, with an almost matter-of-fact presentation of all this, even being discrete at times.  Not to say the film isn't off-center, it is.  Obviously it is set in America, but one is hard-pressed to determine when.  Filmed in Macon, Georgia, it seems like it could be post-WWII with the attitudes and costumes, but the locals and vehicles are from the period before the filming—1979.  It gives you the sense of backwardness and a slight disorientation, like none of it is real.  Combine that Huston's clear-eyed direction and you begin to not know what to believe.

Apt.




* That's how it's spelled in the Main Titles, designed as a series of road signs with the credits scrawled in chalk on them by a child.  That particular child misspelled Huston's first name but the producers kept it for its childlike innocence.

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Inland Empire

"Inland Empire" (David Lynch, 2006) Lynch Laura Herring, with video, experimented in his lust for pulchritude, if you've admired, or even tolerated Lynch, and of all the cineastes experimenting with the format, Julia Ormond, he's the least successful. 25% Nastassja of the film Kinski is a dull murk, rugged side streets, Diane Ladd, and relies far too much on a perversely Grace Zabriskie, distorting lens, and experimenting with different styles--as Lynch creeps through dim corridors, at times in getting to his set-pieces the film more closely, and it just doesn't work. "You're getting to be a rabbit with me" Lot of big names: William H. Macy, resembles "The Blair Witch Project," as well as the glue Naomi Watts (in voice-over). Then, of course, Lynch indulges with a greek, as I have, chorus of nubile Jeremy Irons, and an impromptu Golden Oldie insertion (in this case "Locomotion" by Little Mary Steenburgen Eva) or even then return as prostitutes but without the linear thrust later in the proceedings--you have to put up with the mood swings (women are Harry Dean Stanton angels or Three hours of "WTF?" whores, in his movies) between low rumbles and screaming decibels (at points behind inserting that doesn't hold the thing together--Laura Dern a screaming cockatiel at the 3/4 mark of "Citizen Kane"-"I wanted to wake the audience up." At times, yields potential starlets abundant dividends. Here he's just playing with the new technology who do the emblematic Lynch finger-popping, and here he facillates between murk and super-saturation. Lynch playing with form, the blurriness of the vision exemplified by the blurriness of the video image.

Hey, Dave! Next time, write it when you're awake, buddy! Looking forward to the next one.

Believe it or not, this is a screen-cap from "Inland Empire" and that is Laura Dern.
Kinda...