Somehow it’s been a whole year since the Einstürzende Neubauten Supporter Weekend. And, honestly, I’m still not entirely convinced it was a real thing that actually happened. The weather? Excellent. The vibes? Immaculate. It could not have been a more perfect weekend.
I worry. I mean, little things bother me. I’m a worrier. I mean, little insignificant details - I lose my appetite. I can’t eat. My wife, she says to me, “You know, you can really be a pain.”
Resharing @kevshindig’s podcast ep where I had the damn fine opportunity to talk with him and Greg Bell about David Lynch in the wake of his passing.
But, and maybe this is just me, words always fall short when it comes to trying to capture the way David Lynch’s work has affected me. It’s more about the things you experience by surrendering to the films. Trying to fully dissect or explain a David Lynch film… it’s just not the point. The point is how they make you feel, how they make you dream and wonder.
I have one tattoo. I’ve always meant to get more, but for now and for a long time it’s just been the one. My one tattoo is of the masked boy, Pierre Tremond, from Fire Walk With Me. So I carry David Lynch with me, under my skin, literally. Which seems fitting, because that’s what his films, his art, his music does, it gets under your skin if you’re willing to let it.
A Woman’s Face
Dir. George Cukor
1941
Torsten Barring.
That’s it, that’s the review.
It’s taken me a minute to come back to this movie. There’s no real reason except for me it’s kind of like looking into the sun, something you shouldn’t do often. But in my initial epic Veidt Watch, A Woman’s Face was the point of no return. Up until this, I’d been watching a lot of Connie’s silent film work, which I think you can see trace elements of in his performance here. If I was interested in his work as an actor before seeing A Woman’s Face, afterward there was no way I could stop this train even if I wanted to.
Rest in peace, David Lynch
January 20, 1946 - January 16, 2025
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Sometimes great works of art defy explanation, they defy categorization. I refuse to lump David Lynch’s films in with those of other auteur directors, because the works of other art house filmmakers don’t get under my skin and transport my psyche the way Lynch’s films always have. None of them challenge you, show you horrors you never could have imagined one moment and unbridled soul-touching whimsy and beauty the next the way a David Lynch film can.
The first David Lynch film I ever watched was The Elephant Man. I had to have been around 12 or 13. And even that young, I knew I was watching something so beautiful and tragic and unusual and special. It was my favorite David Lynch movie for years (it might still be). In college, I got deeply into Twin Peaks and still believe the episodes he directed were far and away the best ones in the whole series. I sought out his other films, each like a darkly beautiful and many-sided stone you can turn over and over again and discover some new thing or feeling, each one a dream that means something different to each dreamer. It’s impossible to fully and completely dissect a David Lynch film, and why would you want to anyway? The meaning is so much less important than how they transform you by the very act of watching. You become the voyeur like Jeffrey in Blue Velvet, for the run time of a David Lynch film you get live inside a dream. And, as someone who watches a lot of movies, that’s such a precious and wonderful feeling.
David Lynch taught me that it’s not always important to understand everything about a film or a work of art. As a viewer, you don’t have to know every little reason or intention behind the choices a director makes in order to appreciate or enjoy or be moved by film. And as an artist, you don’t always have to explain yourself to your audience either. In fact, you shouldn’t. In a perfect world, once the art is made, it belongs to the audience, it’s up to them to draw their own conclusions.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been this upset about a celebrity death. And when I saw the news of his passing earlier today I was speechless at first. It sucks anytime the world loses a great artist, regardless of their age or health – if we are moved by their art, we always foolishly hope they’ll go on making that art forever. But maybe one consolation for the death of this artist in particular is that David Lynch luckily had a pretty long career and during that time he was able to create basically exactly what he wanted to create. And we got to benefit from his uncompromising commitment to his vision, we got to have access to the dark deep dreaming world as he saw it. How wonderful is that?
“If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.”
[Photos: Alick Crosley, Sara Krulwich]
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On Sunday, January 5, 2025 The McKittrick Hotel, the home of Punchdrunk’s wildly successful and groundbreaking immersive theatre production Sleep No More for 14 years, closed its doors for good. As early as 2011, they would tease that the show was going to close in a few months time. It became kind of a running joke. It was generally accepted Sleep No More would run forever, barring some major catastrophe like a meteoroid flattening West 27th Street. Then in late 2023, when a closing announcement was released in major news publications, suddenly it was real – Sleep No More was going to close in January 2024.
But then there was an extension. Then another. Then another… And the show ran for a whole year until the final, final, FINAL_SERIOUSLY_FORREALTHISTIMEISWEAR.pdf closing date arrived.
When the initial closure was announced in 2023, going back one last time wasn’t an option for me. But as the extension extended, I made it my business to get to New York to say goodbye to Sleep No More and The McKittrick Hotel in person.
A note before I continue: I have a long history with Sleep No More. I saw it six times in Boston in 2009 - 2010 and many more times in New York. I was an intern, a run crew/stage management team member, a steward, and briefly a costume artisan in the period between 2011 - 2015. My complex relationship with the show is colored by all these different experiences. But I was first someone who was deeply moved and inspired and excited by Sleep No More. I could talk about it forever, and have to anyone who would listen. When all is said and done, I am a fan above all else.
The Passing of the Third Floor Back
Dir. Berthold Viertel
1935
I think The Stranger could fix me.
I will never understand why more people don’t reference this movie when talking about Connie’s career. It’s in his top five must-watch’s for me, for sure.
The Passing of the Third Floor Back is not by any means a great or groundbreaking film. Some moments are shot well, some of the lighting is interesting, but over all there are relatively few bells and whistles, not that the film needs any. It’s based on an older silent film based on a play, and that comes across in the film’s focus being primarily on the story and character relationships. Some of the breakneck pacing doesn’t really suit the dialogue or the story, but that was the style of filmmaking at the time. And that’s why casting Connie as The Stranger was a brilliant move; his thoughtful and considered line delivery as well as his calm, grounded physicality disrupts the 1930s Britishness that defines the rest of the film. Casting another British actor as The Stranger may have worked depending on the actor, but Connie’s otherness – not only in his voice but also his height, demeanor, and fashion – works in the character’s favor… and the story’s too.
2024 in food & drink
The Spy in Black
Dir. Michael Powell
1939
I was going to combine this and Dark Journey in one post, but I ended up writing way more about The Spy in Black than I thought I would. I’m so, so glad I came back to this film. Rereading my initial thoughts after my first viewing, I realize clearly missed a lot because I was too hyperfocused on Connie being the way he is. But I did rewatch Dark Journey recently, and ended up liking that movie a whole lot less the second time around, so I’m not really in any hurry to post about it.
…
The Spy in Black feels worlds away from the grand, technicolor masterpieces of Powell and Pressburger. Despite the whole final act taking place at sea with the U-boats and battleships firing at one another, the film doesn’t come close to the opulence of what are perhaps The Archers’ most well-known and beloved films. The Spy in Black is minimalist by comparison, and yet it doesn’t feel out of place when considered among their other works.
