I originally just had a ticket for the late showing, but with some time to kill, decided to pick up a ticket for another showing - as a painter myself and a big fan of the subject, it was on my radar; I just hadn't intended to see it for another couple of months. As it turned out, it was quite a compatible double bill!
David Lynch: The Art Life - 7/10
Jon Nguyen's second documentary about the mercurial director is focused more on Lynch's formative years and as the title suggests, his engagement with the plastic arts rather than his work in film. Anyone going in expecting to see a blow-by-blow account of his filmography will be left disappointed, despite the fact the trailer might lead you to expect this: in the trailer, the titles of all of his films are flashed up, but actually, only
Eraserhead is given any real screen time, marking as it does, a new phase in Lynch's creative life. 'The Art Life' is a phrase that Lynch himself uses throughout the film, and it seems to be his guiding principle in life - essentially, it's his idea of the idyllic existence, spending as much time as possible giving license to his creative urges, whether that be behind a camera or, as it seems he has always preferred, in his studio. It also involves drinking a lot of coffee and smoking a lot of cigarettes! You're left with the feeling of a remarkably creative being - his films, his painting, his music (which isn't even touched on); he's even a competent woodworker, the film reveals.
I must confess I'm not great fan of his mainly mixed-media artwork, but this film is much more about his creative process and the impulses, past and present, which drive him. There's a lot of family archive footage, both grainy home movies and stills, accompanied by Lynch's narration. He isn't a great raconteur - often trailing off in the telling of an anecdote, or seeming to have no real point to a story, beyond the memory of it - but it's absorbing nonetheless and you're left wanting more. The opening line to the film concerns the huge influence of his own past and his personal history in his films. One anecdote, about a strange event that happened in suburbia, could almost be a storyboard sequence for
Blue Velvet. His account of his time in the industrial hinterland of Philadelphia makes you realize how much of what he saw around him went into
Eraserhead.
The camera work in this docu is very nicely done, and directors Nguyen and Barnes allow their subject to speak for himself - no sycophantic talking heads, just Lynch on Lynch (to recall the title of his book), which is probably the only way he would allow a film like this to be made. As you might expect, it's frustratingly oblique at times but still a fascinating insight into Lynch's early years and a fitting reflection of his life's work.
Rosemary's Baby - 8/10
From a film about Lynch to one that I wouldn't be too surprised to discover had some influence on him. Some of the characters - in particular, the Castavets, the unsettlingly kooky old couple next door - are very Lynchian; I detected a passing resemblance to Minnie Castavet in
Inland Empire's Visitor #1 (Grace Zabriskie). It's actually camper and more fun than I was expecting for a film that is all about paranoia and persecution. Where
Repulsion is unfettered darkness, there's plenty of comic relief in the characters around Rosemary. We aren't stuck in her head in the same way we are with Carol and she never seems nearly as unhinged; there isn't as much blurring of the line between the real and the fantastic. In the end it's a very different kind of film to Polanski's other great psychological horror,
Repulsion, but equally effective I would say. Without wanting to give the game away, it's a film that paints in broad strokes when it comes to the eternal battle between good and evil, but also has interesting sub themes about prenatal paranoia and the anxieties of apartment living - how well do we really know our neighbours? Are they up to no good?
Another contrast with
Repulsion is the fact it's shot in colour rather than black and white - but not just colour, exaggerated colour, especially in the case of Minnie Castavet with her freaky clown rouge and garish attire - it lends the film a hyperreal aspect. As with
Repulsion, the setting is largely the apartment but there are more outside scenes to relieve the claustrophobia here. The acting is a bit hammy but I think that's probably intended: other than Rosemary, the other characters are all meant to be slightly unreal and prop-like. As the nice, grounded girl at the centre of the storm, your sympathies are meant to lie squarely with her as she pieces together the conspiracy against her. It's considered a landmark genre film but the genius of it is that it shows you almost nothing;
The Exorcist is more of a conventional horror film in this sense. The insidiousness and creeping paranoia is built up in your imagination, which the imagery on screen facilitates but doesn't dictate.