In 2010 Quentin Dupieux released a film entitled Rubber. Rubber was the story of a common car tire that gains sentience as well as destructive telekinetic powers. This was exactly as odd as it sounds. Two years later Dupieux release his newest film Wrong. Wrong follows Dolph a man who is seemingly oblivious to the oddities surrounding him. His clock reads 7:60 every morning, a palm tree in his backyard turns into a pine tree overnight, it appears to constantly downpour in the office Dolph was fired from but still goes to every day, and other odd events. Dolphs life continues as (un)normal until one day he wakes up to find that his dog, the one true love of his life is seemingly dognapped. This leads Dolph on a quest to find whoever took his dog and encounter many strange characters on his journey. Wrong had much more of a plot line than Rubber did, but still kept up the surreal nature from it. The writing in the film was well done with lots of fantastically witty dialogue. In one scene Dolph is talking to a man named Master Chang who says he may have information on the whereabouts of Dolph's dog. Master Change discusses how only after we lose things do we truly find out how much we loved them.
Master Chang: ...I only realized I loved my face after it have been burned with acid. But it was too late. Before it was just my face! I didn't know I loved it! I only started loving it again when it have partially disappeared. Do you follow?
Master Chang: Man gets accustomed in all to things rapidly. He gets used to everything. When you get a new jacket you are happy to wear it but that weal wears off. You get accustomed and after a few days, that jacket doesn't bring you any joy at all. On the other hand... if that jacket is stolen from you... desire ignites again inside of you. All of the sudden, you miss that jacket, and you love that jacket again. Same goes for shoes.
Wrong is a surreal, Charlie Kaufman Esque mind trip that those who aren't afraid to think differently during a movie will enjoy.
I love short films. They're the Hershey's Miniatures of movies. You watch them when you just can't fit a feature length film into your diet. Not only are they convenient and compact, but they come in any flavor you could ask for. Craving animation? Try Paperman. Looking to try a silent mystery? Sherlock Jr 's the one you want. Or maybe you're a fan of the classics: A Trip to the Moon. Despite your personal taste in genres, like Hershey's Miniatures, you can't just have one. [Side-note: If you happen to be one of the rare individuals that can eat just one of these delicious chocolates I envy your self-control. Also there might be something inherently wrong with you. Sorry.]
Anyway, during one of my short film binges, I came across Pas de deux. Keeping with my chocolate analogy, Pas de deux could be compared to chocolate covered bacon. Would I eat it again? No. Do I admire the originality of the composition? Absolutely.
Directed by Canadian filmmaker, Norman McLaren, Pas de deux was embraced instantly by the filmmaking community. Not only did it receive 17 awards, (one including the 1969 BAFTA award for Best Animated Film), it was also nominated for an Academy Award. The short is an interpretation of a ballet-style dance called, get this: the Pas de deux. Content, however, is not what launched McLaren's piece into movie history. The real beauty lay in the filmmaker's extraordinary method of production.
The Canadian cinematographer used light and photography to create a stroboscopic collection of images. First, McLaren took photograph after photograph of the dancer/s; backlit and in front of a black backdrop. This lighting scheme, along with his choice of high contrast stock, contributed to the piece's radical overall look. This ain't your run of the mill Instagram filter.
Then, using the "step and repeat" process and an optical printer, McLaren overlaid the photographs to great some of the most interesting and surreal cinematography I've seen. I can not help but to deeply admire the fact that Norman McLaren manually did the job of both the videocamera, and the editing software.
Regardless of whether you're discussing movies or chocolate; one thing can be said of both. You don't need to consume a whole portion to appreciate the taste.
Louis C.K.'s "Louie" is one my favorite shows on TV right now. With its hilarious and sometimes painfully awkward and dark moments, "Louie" shows depth that a lot of other shows (especially comedies) fall short on. If there's anything that "Louie" gets across, its that being a touring stand-up comedian doesn't mean life is always funny and lighthearted, rather it is merely an average person's life, often mundane and sometimes dark. This season, "Louie" has taken a turn for the surreal- with an episode arc displaying the more bazaar aspects of life- which is why last week's episode "Late Show Pt. 2" featuring Mr. Absurdity himself, David Lynch was the perfect crossover.
I am a huge David Lynch fan, so when I saw him appear on screen I was pleasantly surprised. Lynch played Louie's raving, eccentric late-night comedy coach, forcing Louie to rehearse Nixon-era jokes in preparation for the potential opportunity to replace David Letterman on The Late Show. Lynch's role highlights just how weird show business is, as well the antiquated but persisting late night talk show format. At one point, Lynch's character is modeling for Louie how to properly tell a joke on a late night show. Lynch comes out from behind the curtain, smiling and waving enthusiastically to the audience that isn't there as Louie watches on. Frankly, he looks like a absolutely insane. Then Louie looks down at the camera when suddenly the sounds of music and the audience accompany Lynch pretending to host, and it looks completely natural. Being the extremely self-aware person that he is, Louie sees this contrast, and realizes that he is perhaps unfit for the gig, unsure he possesses the ability to ham it up for the late night talk show format. The episode ends in a Rocky-like fashion, as Louie, after being instructed by Lynch's character, heads to the gym to box where he is promptly beat up by a young, lean, boxer. A very adequate metaphor for Louie and his career in the entertainment industry.
