A Signature Distraction

Anyone still reading Club Silencio knows that I (in)frequently contribute to Film Experience a series called "Signatures:" my most beloved actresses momentarily captured in awkward still photos and overindulgent praise. If I were to write a "Signatures" on myself, it would be that I laugh in the face of being prolific, and that my readers are lovely, patient and/or bored.

Here's my latest output/distraction, and look forward to more Defensive Cinema and Cult Oddities in the coming week!

• Patricia Clarkson is one of the finest supporting actresses alive, so why is she never supportive?

• Catherine Keener says "fuck off" in the most charming way imaginable.

• Uma Thurman is out for blood in the most charming way imaginable.

• (Literally) brace yourselves for the bitter comedy stylings of Lisa Kudrow!

• Laura Dern is our guiding light through the darkness of monogamy, prostitution and Nicolas Cage.

Defensive Cinema #4: Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992)

Defensive Cinema is a series devoted to films seemingly dismissed by the greater population. And me getting all defensive like and telling you why my opinions hold more water than yours.

"When this fire starts, it is very hard to put out. The tender boughs of innocence burn first, and the wind rises... And then all goodness is in jeopardy."

I understand any fan's disappointment over not getting closure to the classic series Twin Peaks. No new revelations, no Doppelganger Dale Cooper. And I certainly can't blame them for being angry at not seeing its many beloved characters back in their eerie, offbeat digs -- especially when in the place of that is the most depressingly dark incest drama you'll ever see. It's befitting then that the film opens with piercing screams as a television set is smashed to bits. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me seems best suited to fans of the director's most ambiguous efforts. Those tuning in just for the coffee and cherry pie are about to get served something blacker than midnight on a moonless night.

"Your Laura disappeared. It's just me now."

David Lynch always saw Twin Peaks as a show about a girl, Laura Palmer. It's quite clear that when the series lost sight of her, it did (ever so slightly) derail. Once the mystery of her killer was solved, the series inevitably had to lose much of its compelling center. Pushing the focus in on Laura, as this "prequel" does, ultimately pushes the familiar setting into its most strange places, to the aid of some deeply disturbing and moving cinema, but to the loss of narrative ease and the characteristic charms of its TV origins. I'm content with that since it's another of Lynch's abstract art-pieces. His best films are something to experience, and despite this film's darkest recesses of innocence lost, it's one to lose yourself in. More often than not threads of the story seem senseless or random, and yet their placement, their staging, their overall essence render them completely captivating. No one turns Americana into atmospheric hell better than Lynch. We're not in Kansas anymore. We're WAY off the map.

Donna: Do you think if you were falling in space you would slow down after awhile, or go faster and faster?

Laura: Faster and faster. And for a long time you wouldn't feel anything... Then you'd BURST into fire. Forever. And the angels wouldn't help you, because they've all gone away.

Sheryl Lee gives a singular, pulverizing performance that surpasses anything we've seen from her as either Laura or Maddie on the series. She plays each of her scenes on the verge of a painful hysteria - a lost little girl and a madwoman confined behind her last shred of sanity, and her last days on earth. She extends her emotions beyond the obvious sympathy though: the fact that Laura's merely a child who has been sexually abused by the men of her idyllic small town for the better (worst) part of her life. Laura knows she has nothing left, even if she's so far been able to veil her consuming inner demons behind charity work and a spiraling drug addiction. She is a girl on fire whose only hope is to be extinguished, and perhaps the most grim notion of the film is that Laura knows, and occasionally desires, that her end is near.



David Lynch's directorial feat is breathtaking all the while offputting. The content is hideously ugly yet masked behind layers of visual arrest, and Angelo Badalamenti's masterful mix of melancholy jazz fusion consistently punctures through to the film's bleak heart. This film's no different from Lynch's infinitely more praised Lost Highway or Mulholland Dr., as it channels lives in the balance like the static fuzz of an electrical current. Images and characters speak in riddles, and the audience becomes a confused passerby in Laura's tragic dual dimensions. The picture postcard perfection of Twin Peaks shreds through to each of her chilling alternate worlds: the photo of a doorway that leads back to the bedroom where her nightmares began, a Canadian bar where she becomes a teenager transformed for male pleasure, and a Red Room which holds all of Laura's misery, madness, and maybe her only existence of hope.


Fire Walk With Me is at once a harrowing horror film, an oddball family drama, a surrealist satire, and above all the devastating attempt to peel back the layers of a homecoming queen whose life and death has been "wrapped in plastic." If the series is about the pieces of a town left in mourning, Fire Walk With Me is about the primal scream that shatters it.


--There's even more Lynch-inspired love for Laura Dern in my latest "Signatures" post at Film Experience. I promise... no more talk of incest, just huffing paint.

Walking and Talking and Bathing in Virgins

"You know, maybe we're - we're only good at brief encounters, walking around European cities in warm climate."

Before Sunset

I'd travel anywhere with Julie Delpy, not just Vienna and Paris. Even if she becomes a manic-depressive activist, I'd still like her! I'd still want to hang out with her!

She's so smart, funny and talented, I already have my bags packed for our trip to Hungary. Although I urge the virgins out there to pack light...

The Countess - Trailer
by dreadcentral

Virgin bloodbaths will definitely be a new experience - especially to those of us used to seeing a milder Julie Delpy speculating and swooning over life and love. Nevertheless, Julie's latest directorial venture, The Countess, seems like a trip worth taking. If anything it sounds rejuvenating.

Sadly the trip to Hungary isn't scheduled for departure until June 25th, and that's only if you're in Germany. The rest of us will have to wait and take mundane, virgin-less baths until the as-yet-undecided date.


In the meantime venture to Film Experience for my latest "Signatures" post in which I go sightseeing with Julie Delpy. What do we see on this tour? A whole lot of Julie Delpy, with a detour to Julie Delpy. Oh, and a gondola!

Other recent "Signatures" excursions:

• The unsinkable Kathy Bates takes us into her Colorado home where she abducts romance novelists. Then to her quaint home in Maine, where she disposes of husbands and elderly employers.

• The creative Catherine O'Hara takes us on a tour of the art world in bustling Chicago and fabulous New York City. And she still forgets Macaulay Culkin.

• The revitalizing Jamie Lee Curtis brings us along on a surprising journey from Haddonfield, Illinois to Lindsay Lohan, California.

Making It In the Art World

I thought I should link to a couple of my "Signatures" over at Film Experience on beloved actresses Catherine O'Hara and Jamie Lee Curtis. Not my best posts, sorry (and rude of you for suggesting). These woman deserve better for having had tremendous careers that have forced them to stay fresh and funny, and managing it exquisitely even in their most commercial ventures. This is to say, more exquisitely than I... At least until my cassette drops.

Where Do You Think You're Going?

Club Silencio will never become one of those blogs that is always apologizing for its lengthy absence of posts. At least not directly.

...See what I just did there?

Well, while outside film writing occupies my time, I divert your attention to posts I'd neglected to distract you with earlier. Over at Film Experience continues my "Signatures" series. I say that as if it's like a new line of luxury cars, when really it's a poor excuse to fawn over actresses and post awkward still photos.


SEE Gena Rowlands on the Sauce!

SEE 2008 Best Actress Nominees Claw to the Death!

SEE Ellen Burstyn on Speed!

SEE Edith Massey in Bra and Crib!

Art Class with Kate Winslet

Today's Lessons:

Lesson 1: Persuade other artists to show you their techniques

"I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. Wearing this. Wearing only this."

Lesson 2: Use life models

"Oh, I haven't gotten around to drawing her yet. I was going to pop her on a rock, but I seem to have run out of room. Sorry... I don't know if you noticed, Mrs. Collins, that I've actually drawn St. George in the likeness of the world's greatest tenor, Mario Lanza."

Kate's Favorite Color: Blue

Kate's Favorite Medium: Watercolor

As long as we're all sharing our creative output, I've posted the latest installment of "Signatures" over at Film Experience, dedicated this time to the great artist Kate Winslet. Read it in the tub.

You've Been Blown Off by Jodie Foster

Hey, Jodie Foster! Hang out with us!
No? Maybe some other time.

We can take a hint. Even Jodie Foster needs some fresh air and some alone time.

It's just that... we grew up together. We first knew Jodie when she was just The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane. But she always did keep to herself.


And even back then Jodie was used to having the house all to herself. If only because her parents were dead, but the girl does love the quiet.

Now it's getting harder and harder to stay in contact with her.

She's always off in her own little world. She'll do just about anything to escape.


She should really get out more. But even when she does Jodie's always drawn to prison cells, basements, airplanes, tunnels, pool halls, and if you're really unlucky, a dark alley. Jodie feels comfortable in the dark. Even though awful things always seem to happen there...

Sorry to sneak up on you like that, but...

We're worried about you, Jodie. We hardly get to see you anymore!

But we trust that she'll still put on a brave face and take to the streets eventually.

So perhaps she just prefers a night in... But if it was up to Jodie she'd never leave the house. And for that matter, even if it wasn't up to her...

Don't panic, Jodie. Just call us when you get back from your "trip." Whenever.

If and when we never see Jodie again, we'll know she has retreated to the woods to live a solitary life. But at least we know she's getting some fresh air.

Positive Thoughts with Penélope Cruz

So Penélope's not playing a prostitute, a historical figure, a Holocaust survivor or a victim of mental illness... I still think her Oscar odds are pretty good. As my latest "Signatures" post suggests, things should all work out if she just stays positive.

Then again... if she couldn't nab an Oscar for playing a pregnant HIV-positive nun who helps drug addicted transvestite prostitutes... All bets are off.

But I'm leaving the positive thoughts to Penélope.

The Amish Complex with Naomi Watts

"Wake up, pretty girl! The joke's on you. The joke is on you!

Don't look at me. I just want to be left alone. I'm sick of this. I'm sick of you all looking at me...

Look at me, please, please, please! Everybody! Everybody look at me now. I am so pretty. I am so pretty. Look at me. Everybody just wants to be me. I'm pretty!"

Check out my latest "Signatures" post in which I take a gander at Naomi Watts exquisite guide to grieving. Turns out grief's like the Amish -- you just have to accept it.

FFFFuckabees!

Movin' On Up with Maggie Gyllenhaal

"I'll suck your dick if you give me the job I want."

Woah, Maggie! First off: I'm broke. Second: I'm not an employment agency. And third: I'd rather be discussing this with your brother.

In the meantime read up on my latest "Signatures" post at The Film Experience in which I discuss "The Maggie Gyllenhaal Method" of how to get ahead.

...Well, alright Maggie, but I've only got twenty bucks on me...

Inside the Minds of Nicole Kidman

Over at The Film Experience I posted my latest "Signatures" installment on the screen-stealing majesty that is Nicole Kidman. I couldn't help but think of all the wonderful monologue moments Kidman's had throughout her career. Some of them are expressed through song, some through John Hurt, and some of the best are without any words at all. I'm referring to moments such as the devastating and beautiful symphony scene from Birth, the grim "light bulb" moment from To Die For, and the knowing looks in Eyes Wide Shut. Kidman has a way of revealing the true arc of her characters with stunning ease and remarkable precision.
We can never know exactly what thoughts ran through Kidman's head during those classic scenes, but they may have gone something like this...

Margot at the Wedding: "Do I write today, or just belittle someone? ...I wrote yesterday."

Eyes Wide Shut: "It's so easy to fuck with my husband... Imagine if I told him what really happens in my dreams! Or about all those affairs."

Birth: "Could my husband have been cosmically reborn into the body of a little boy? Would Miss Cleo lie?"

Dogville: "This one's for all the avid Hummel collectors!"

Moulin Rouge: "If I choose the Duke I get diamonds, but I get treated like a whore. If I choose Christian I get true love, but I have to read his manuscripts."

To Die For: "If my husband's dead I'm that much closer to hosting Dateline! I wonder if Diane Sawyer knows where to buy an unregistered handgun..."

The Hours: "Do I write today, or just contemplate death? ...I wrote yesterday."

The Right Man for Winona Ryder

The tabloids have romantically tied Winona Ryder to the likes of Johnny Depp, Tom Green, and that guy from Salute Your Shorts. A downward spiral to be sure, but no match for her cinematic love life. Worrisome indeed when Mr. Deeds gives anyone their happiest ending...

If Winona's unlucky in love, is there hope for any of us?


1988: Winona is tempted via cherry slush into the arms of sociopath Jason Dean. He's socially conscious and highly motivated, and also heavily armed. His attempt to terminate the student population brings them together as quickly as it tears them apart.


But Big Fun while it lasted.

1990: Winona falls for the bad boy yet again, but then his dad IS rich. Never mind that he's Anthony Michael Hall...

Winona is finally tempted astray by her first glimmer of true love -- the one that got away. She has a fantastical fling with a half-man-half-doll named Edward, whose handicap and reclusive tendencies make him an instant outsider and an instant curiosity.


Fittingly their romance blossoms once Edward's accused of stealing. It all ends devastatingly fast with the corpse of Anthony Michael Hall on Edward's front lawn. Hence Edward goes back into hiding, and as for Winona, she turns her eyes to a more socially acceptable man.

Like... God. Winona is "Born Again"... or maybe she's just "Born." Either way her attempts at religious celibacy fizzle rapidly over lustful kisses at church, and the fear that she might be carrying the next Jewish Italian Messiah.

"Please God don't let me fall in love and want to do disgusting things... Dear God, I love the way he throws. "

1991: Winona's tempted back to the dark side with her baddest boy yet. She finally gets her chance at epic, timeless love, and it's with one of the most famous men in the world. The drawback is that he's really, REALLY old, but age and experience have made him infinitely more interesting than Keanu Reeves. Alas, promises of sharing an eternity together mean very little when being staked through the chest.


1994: Drowning her sorrows in flannel and Lisa Loeb, Winona dares to dabble in the dating world again with both Ben Stiller and Ethan Hawke. With Winona we can anticipate the outcome. Ethan and Winona share a special bond over coffee, cigarettes, and unemployment brought on by petty theft.


What's this? A happy ending?! Only in the movies... Well, the movies tampered with by studio execs to score higher with test audiences. Please... Ethan was out the door the minute Winona's gas card maxed out.

2000: In the meantime, Winona's gotten age-old romantic with Daniel Day-Lewis and accused his wife of being a witch -- both ending with some disappointment. What she needs is the comfort of an older man, and Richard Gere will suffice. Their romance ends tragically, and about as quickly as it hit the collective gag reflex.


2007: It's been a long dry patch only further disgraced by the presence of Adam Sandler... But then Winona finally meets the man of her dreams! After all that pining and loss, she finally has her grip on a man whose devotion is as strong as oak. As with her previous great love, Edward, Winona's heart ultimately swells for the gentler sort of man -- and apparently the hand-manufactured one as well.

"I've never felt so alive!"

Winona's right-hand man can literally be worn on her right hand, and his sweet nothings really are just that.

There is hope after all. Here's to Gary and Winona. Long may they last, with a love carved into the ages.