if the song “tiptoe through the tulips” ever starts playing, run. don’t ask questions. don’t hesitate. just run. run
Jason Schwartzman for Bust magazine, February 2013.
Natalie Dormer in the trailer for Sweet Nothings (2010)
Whether you’re making music or films or painting pictures… play to the strengths of your medium.
One of the aspects of written narrative I appreciate most is the ambiguity that’s possible and sustainable before the true nature of a fictional situation is confirmed. Like the roadster in The Great Gatsby which is green or yellow, depending on the moment, I love to keep the details of a story in flux. One thing morphs into becoming another, sometimes even a third thing.
My classic example comes from the story “Guts.” Whatever is holding the narrator underwater, first it’s a snake, then a sea serpent, then it’s a prolapsed colon, finally it’s a “thick rope of veins and twisted guts.” This gradual evolution from the fantastic to the horribly real is something films have less success depicting. There are good examples. In A Portrait of Jennie Joseph Cotton gradually realizes his girlfriend is dead. A ghost. In Jacob’s Ladder Tim Robbins slowly comes to terms with the fact that he is, himself, dead. But too often the ambiguous thing must be made real in order to be filmed, and that robs it of the power of being debatable, undecidable. So often, once we see the monster, it’s no longer scary."
who even came up with the word motherfucker in the first place?
Yeah Southern Gothic is the best thing since sliced bread but do you know what I wanna see more of? Southwestern gothic. Creepy desert towns, alien lore and unexplained lights, bones and spurs and burnt-our oak scrub everywhere. Cattle rancher blood feuds, neo-Apache and postmodern-Navajo mythology, Spanish architecture and Americana dreams in equal states of crumbling disrepair. Californian curses and New Mexican ghost towns and long stretches of road with nothing but the deceptive moon or hazy heat mirages for company.
Television is way ahead of film because it doesn’t feel the need to polarize women. Male writers either want to make women the angel or the whore. Women are more complex than that.
You see, there are still faint glimmers of civilization left in this barbaric slaughterhouse that was once known as humanity. Indeed that’s what we provide in our own modest, humble, insignificant… Oh, fuck it.
It’s true when David Fincher is in the same room.