sovay | Can you imagine what it's like to erase your own past?

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Can you imagine what it's like to erase your own past?

At the very beginning of tonight's movie, I said to Caitlín, "I'm glad to see this director likes German Expressionism." Near the very end, I said, "That is the best film I have ever seen about the process of apotheosis." Both of these statements are true; neither is going to convey how much I liked Dark City (1998), which begins like a solid little film noir and ends like Gnosticism. And of course it recalls Metropolis (1927) and M (1930) and Das Kabinett des Doktor Caligari (1920) and even some films that aren't in German, chiefly Jeunet and Caro's Delicatessen (1991) and La Cité des enfants perdus (1995), but I am not sure I had ever before seen a street scene simultaneously evoke Franz Kafka and Edward Hopper and you know, they're a natural fit. I can't imagine how the theatrical cut was supposed to work. I've had it explained to me, but I still can't imagine it; I don't know what it is about thoughtful science fiction that makes studios want to tack on idiotic voiceovers, but I hope it's not some kind of actual, contractually-obliged law. And even if one could make a convincing case that the central mystery of Dark City is less compelling than the characters' actions once they figure it out, I still can't figure out why any of the deleted scenes were, because one of the neatest things about the film as it stands is its three-dimensionality, the sense that any of its characters, John, Anna, Bumstead, Schreber, even Mr. Hand, might be the protagonist: and so, by turns, they all are. Take out certain lines, conversations, even reaction shots, that depth of field is lost. God, I bet this is how you jinx a movie, taking Fritz Lang as your model. At least Alex Proyas didn't have to wait eighty-plus years for the restoration.

. . . It's mostly the hair, and a little of the cheekbones, and the eyes, but I kept looking at Rufus Sewell as John Murdoch and being reminded of Michael Cisco. This comparison may haunt me for years. Then again, any film that contained multiple shout-outs to Daniel Paul Schreber's Memoirs of My Nervous Illness (1903) would probably remind me of Michael Cisco all by itself. I still wonder if this explains anything about the world.

In other news, we did not, unsurprisingly, finish line-editing Two Worlds and In Between; I'm staying until Wednesday. I'm very tired. Funny how you write that at four in the morning and it's still true the next day.

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I am so glad you saw the Director's Cut of the movie!! The original version was forced to have this terrible voice over at the start which gave away about 3/4's of the plot. I so wish I could have come to the film late for a change, or not have seen it till the director's cut was available. I'll never be able to have that wondrous experience of entering into that film knowing as little about what is going on than the main character.

In truth, though, there was not actually that much footage cut from the original version. Some of the scenes were stitched together differently, but the only real change was the footage of the prostitute's daughter. That's the only significant bit of film that wasn't in the originally released version. And while I liked it, it was by no means a major addition to the flavor of the film, though it did explain more clearly why he leaves her apartment in the first place. In the original version, it seemed more like he panicked or just felt uncomfortable.

AWESOME icon there.

Thanks! I didn't make it, just had the good sense to snag it. ;)

n truth, though, there was not actually that much footage cut from the original version. Some of the scenes were stitched together differently, but the only real change was the footage of the prostitute's daughter.

Not precisely true. Yes, only about ten minutes of footage is restored (and also true is that much of the restoration was accomplished by putting scenes back together right way round), but other very notable footage is missing from the theatrical release. For example, Hand's very important comments to Emma expressing his longing for individuality.

Edited 2011-03-15 15:48 (UTC)

Oh yis, I had forgotten about that bit. Or rather, I couldn't remember if that had been in the original or not, it being many years since I had seen it. I knew that Book had talked to Emma, but the details of what all was discussed had been blurred over time.

I am so glad you saw the Director's Cut of the movie!!

I'm glad I waited. I think I'd have been distractingly annoyed with the studio otherwise.

I didn't mind the voiceover because it didn't spoil the scene where Bumstead [spoiler redacted]. On a cinema screen, it was amazing.

(I'm also glad I saw Pitch Black in theatres. That was gorgeous on the silver screen.)

Oh, now I'll have to see the director's cut. I've always thought Dark City was an underappreciated film. It + Equilibrium ~ a better Matrix than Matrix.

Edited 2011-03-15 15:06 (UTC)

It + Equilibrium ~ a better Matrix than Matrix.

I'm actually quite fond of The Matrix (although not the sequels), but Equilibrium was one of my brother's favorite films for a few years, and it was so much less stupid than I was expecting from a retelling of Fahrenheit 451 with karate guns.

I *love* Dark City. I call it the only real P.K. Dick movie ever made.

Did you notice that Kiefer Sutherland is actually the protagonist? I didn't, until the second watching. Sewell is just some guy he manipulates into saving the world.

Also, Richard O'Brien! And Jennifer Connelly being unspeakably gorgeous.

That's a very good insight. It took me a few watches to figure that one out.

I call it the only real P.K. Dick movie ever made.

That's very fair. I was also reminded, strongly, of Fritz Leiber's You're All Alone.

Did you notice that Kiefer Sutherland is actually the protagonist? I didn't, until the second watching. Sewell is just some guy he manipulates into saving the world.

I don't know if that's quite fair to Murdoch, since after all he can tune—and there's no implication any random person off the streets of the city could have done the same—but I agree that Schreber is a much more central and strangely sympathetic figure than he first appears. I love that one line I used as the title of this post, when suddenly you understand that there was once so much more to him than we've seen, this second-generation Joel Cairo mad doctor, and all he can remember of that self now is that it's gone.

Also, Richard O'Brien!

Yes! He's lovely.

Okay, yes, unfair--I think what I love is that we get the movie from the POV, basically, of everybody BUT the character with the most agency, who is most in control of the plot.

I think that's brilliant. --and yes, there was so much more to him, and he's not a grotesque. He's a person who we are allowed to mistake for a grotesque, and the onus of discomfort is placed on us when we realize how wrong we were.

Also, hey, Trevor Jones soundtrack. Which was actually the reason I went to see it. Boy was I pleasant surprised.

we get the movie from the POV, basically, of everybody BUT the character with the most agency, who is most in control of the plot.

Look, I rarely like protagonists. I gravitate toward the supporting cast. And even then, there's usually one character per narrative (book, movie, show) in whom I really take an interest; it has to be rare and well-written for me to imprint on two or three. A film where I would have gladly tracked all of five co-protagonists, which is really what I think they are? Almost unprecedented. Go, Alex Proyas.

He's a person who we are allowed to mistake for a grotesque, and the onus of discomfort is placed on us when we realize how wrong we were.

Yes. I mean, I liked him pretty much straight off, but I think Peter Lorre was beautiful.

I've generally avoided Kiefer Sutherland on the grounds of 24, but maybe I should start taking recommendations. Got any?

Also, hey, Trevor Jones soundtrack.

I was about to write that I didn't think I'd ever heard anything by Trevor Jones, and then I looked him up on IMDb and saw that he's responsible for the scores to things like Labyrinth and Ian McKellen's gorgeous alt-'30's Richard III, so never mind; he's awesome.

Hee. He's the greatest stealth composer in Hollywood, near as I can tell. I have piles of his stuff--it's excellent writing music.

You know, 24 kind of ruined Kiefer for me. I gave it fifteen or twenty episodes based on how much I liked him in Dark City, and I think I haven't forgiven him. :-P

You know, 24 kind of ruined Kiefer for me. I gave it fifteen or twenty episodes based on how much I liked him in Dark City, and I think I haven't forgiven him.

Sadly, I think that's fair. Maybe he'll recover.

(IMDb informs me I saw him with Reese Witherspoon in Freeway (1996), where he's a very effective, modern-day wolf in serial killer's clothing. That's a quite unexpectedly good film; I actually saw it for a class on myths and folktales in college.)

"scampers off to netflix*

--and yes, there was so much more to him, and he's not a grotesque. He's a person who we are allowed to mistake for a grotesque

It took me until tonight in the shower to articulate it, but Dark City is metafiction. Its people are endlessly shuffled between one identity and the next, picked up and replaced into never-finished stories that run only as long as the Strangers' desire to see what happens next, discarded or rewritten once their most immediate purpose is played out. Murdoch would never really have been a serial killer; he would have been someone's idea of a serial killer. (All those memories of idyllic Shell Beach are attached to postcards and billboards because that is exactly the depth they possess, quite believable as an outsider's construction of a happy childhood.) Schreber is a grotesque because he is a character: all other dimensions were taken from him. It is only when he stops performing that familiar role of creepy scientist around the edges of the narrative that we can see he's still, or he becomes again, real. When Bumstead stops tying his shoelaces so precisely, it's the sign that he's moving away from his imprinted characterization of the cop who lives for his job, into someone who can be a little bit slipshod, and curious about more than the dry facts of the case, and rewarded with the wonder of knowing the truth even as he dies for it. Anna was never meant to start investigating her husband's disappearance; she was only supposed to be his murderous trigger. And Mr. Hand consciously takes on a part that was written for someone else, a string-puller stepping onto the stage, and his poignancy is that for all his curiosity, he never does attain humanity, only a reflected-back composite of what his species imagined it would be like. All of them together, but especially Schreber and Murdoch, they break the story. The city's inhabitants can have lives now, not just a series of unwitting scenes. And if I was right to be reminded of Gnosticism, then I suppose we should come away thinking about gods and demiurges and free will, but I think about story before I think about religion; and what I think is, now the characters can start being people. And it cannot be accidental that this global freedom from narrative is accomplished by Schreber rewriting the story of Murdoch's life.

—Actually, that's very clever: we are told that the Strangers are attempting to study individuality by testing whether the possession of certain memories will dictate a subject's behavior from then on ("Will a man, given the history of a killer, continue in that vein? Or are we, in fact, more than the sum of our memories?"), and it is this proposition which the human characters consistently refute. John Murdoch may be a mostly blank slate, but when he finds himself in the plot-position of a jealous husband and a murderer by all circumstantial evidence, he conducts himself like neither. Anna is supposed to be his woman in the refrigerator, Bumstead a cog in the machine that brings him in. There should be nothing left of Schreber but his skill with a neuron and a syringe. None of them, ultimately, play out their assigned parts, however terrifying the alternatives. It is only Mr. Hand who, on finding himself with the somewhat lurid backstory of a serial killer (his wife cheated on him, so he kills prostitutes—seriously, that is about as sophisticated as psychology got in the B-movies), actually goes out and murders someone. We get an answer to the experiment. The answer is that it's not a simple thing. I should think about this more in the morning.

Edited 2011-03-16 09:37 (UTC)

In fact, the very first thing Murdoch does is save the goldfish. Yes, I think are right exactly. We are more than our roles, the narrative says.

It's such a wonderful movie.

Very well said, yes. They are all in the process of becoming more than their roles, but I think that even extends to Hand (as I said over at my place :)), in that to even begin to seek that facsimile, that chimera of humanity which the Strangers have generated, he has to transgress his prescribed role As string-puller, and allow his strings to be pulled awhile.

You're right: such a great film, and such amazing depth...

in that to even begin to seek that facsimile, that chimera of humanity which the Strangers have generated, he has to transgress his prescribed role as string-puller, and allow his strings to be pulled awhile.

Agreed: just that desire to know what it's like has already differentiated him from the hive-mind of the Strangers, even if it leaves him ultimately stranded between two worlds (a fish in air), burning in the sun.

You're right: such a great film, and such amazing depth...

As I said to

mswyrr: I want someone to edit a book of essays on Dark City. I'd read it.

Is Dark City the one with the Labyrinth girl in it? I quite like her.

Is Dark City the one with the Labyrinth girl in it? I quite like her.

Jennifer Connelly, yes. She's quite good.

I saw the theatrical release, and felt depressed over how clumsy it was, how close it came to being brilliant. Now I'm going to have to watch the Director's cut and give it another shot--looks like my instincts were right about there being so much more going on than the film revealed.

I saw the theatrical release, and felt depressed over how clumsy it was, how close it came to being brilliant.

I never saw the theatrical release, but I'd call the director's cut brilliant.

I saw the theatrical cut at Worldcon in Baltimore in 1998, where the projectionists (after explaining to the audience what they were about to do, and why) literally pulled the plug on the center channel audio during the first few minutes, thus keeping the musical soundtrack but eliminating the voice-over where the uncredited "narrator" explains that Rosebud is actually dead and that the child psychologist is in fact a sled. I am forever grateful for that. I liked the film a great deal but it just missed making my list of favorites.

At one point I was on the verge of doing the same thing to show the movie to the then-Buffy gang, but then I heard about the director's cut and decided to wait for it instead. I thought it might be many years before it was released, but it proved to be just a few. I bought it on Blu-Ray and was distraught to discover that on my system the picture was all but unwatchable, too lacking in contrast between the blacks and the greys (we're not watching proper Blu-Ray but down-resing it). I subsequently completely re-did all the TV settings and am now quite hopeful that the movie will look just fine, and I somehow left if off the list of films I just sent you that I wanted to rewatch from my collection, when it fact it should have been at or near the top. Just as well, because none of the B5 gang have seen it and we should all see it together.

I've read one review comparing the director's and theatrical cuts, by someone who saw the former at a test screening. Their complaint was much more about re-editing which they thought destroyed the rhythm of the film, rather than omitted material. I can't wait to see the real, actual film.

I've read one review comparing the director's and theatrical cuts, by someone who saw the former at a test screening. Their complaint was much more about re-editing which they thought destroyed the rhythm of the film, rather than omitted material. I can't wait to see the real, actual film.

Caitlín mentioned the differences in pacing; I don't see how the film could have unfolded any differently. It's a relatively fast-moving story as it is, simply by virtue of its structure as a mystery, and I think anything more obviously quick-cut would have ruined the city's sense of dreamlike time, that circles endlessly, but goes nowhere.

Thanks for your lovely post! It inspired me to re-watch, which I enjoyed immensely.

I noticed a theme about water that I'm still ruminating over. There's a reocurring image of fish tanks, first with the goldfish and then the fish tanks at Uncle Karl's place. I suppose they're meant to represent the humans trapped in their experimental tank? Especially since we have those evocative images of the doctor in his pool and Murdoch waking up in the bathtub/fish tank. The desire for Shell Beach is, on some level, about a fish trapped in a tank wishing for the open ocean.

Water, of course, is something the Strangers say they hate. Which would make sense, if we're meant to read it as the medium the humans need/live in/desire.

And then there's the memories themselves as a liquid. The liquid that makes humans unique. Something we're told the Strangers do not tolerate well--like water, like all moisture.

And then there's blood. Our first image of Murdoch is of him with that line of wet blood dribbled down his forehead. And there's a level on which the very appearance/behavior of the Strangers is "bloodless" (pale, emotionally disconnected). And then the fact that they appear to be literally bloodless beneath their human facades.

Thanks for your lovely post! It inspired me to re-watch, which I enjoyed immensely.

You're very welcome! I'm glad to have been the impetus.

There's a reoccurring image of fish tanks, first with the goldfish and then the fish tanks at Uncle Karl's place.

Yes! They tell you the secret of the city straight off, if you can speak metaphor. I can't remember when I started to notice they were significant, but definitely by the visit to Neptune's Kingdom.

Especially since we have those evocative images of the doctor in his pool and Murdoch waking up in the bathtub/fish tank.

I hadn't made the connection with Schreber, but you're right. And he's the only one who knows they're fish in a glass bowl, being peered in at.

The desire for Shell Beach is, on some level, about a fish trapped in a tank wishing for the open ocean.

Yes.

And then there's the memories themselves as a liquid.

Memory is a fluid thing: a shape-changer. And another allusion to the sea we carry inside us, even stranded in the deserts of space.

I'd love to see a book of essays about this film, if one doesn't exist already.

"The desire for Shell Beach is, on some level, about a fish trapped in a tank wishing for the open ocean."

Yes.

The thing is, in creating Shell Beach at the end--as well as in accepting the name John Murdoch and his love for the woman they chose to be his wife--he's admitting the limits of his freedom. Like Schreber says in the boat: nobody knows where home really is, nobody knows where they came from. The word "earth" doesn't even seem to be in their vocabulary. John's freedom is about choice -- he can choose, by following his heart, which parts of what they've given him to accept and which parts to reject. He can keep the name, love the woman, create Shell Beach. But he has nothing outside of what they gave him. He can't have their machine take them to earth. He can't swim in an ocean that covers the whole globe and lives and breathes with wonder he can't imagine. The story is about a fish learning to built a better fish tank. He's putting rocks and plastic castles and little plants in there for himself and the other fishes. But the tank is the only thing keeping them alive, and it's the only thing they know, so they can't eve really leave.

If we take a step to the left and think of what the Strangers have done to them as a metaphor of ideology, then the message is that you really cannot step outside of discourse. All you have are the things that bind you, and your freedom comes in choosing the best parts of those things. Making the happy lies that kept you going real. But Shell Beach is still a lie. It's not John's birth home (unless he was born in the city, perhaps?). "John" is not the name he was born with, if he was born on earth. And the ocean his makes with his mind is just a wider, sunnier fish bowl.

Memory is a fluid thing: a shape-changer. And another allusion to the sea we carry inside us, even stranded in the deserts of space.

Oooh! <3 I love the way you said this.

I'd love to see a book of essays about this film, if one doesn't exist already.

I had a craving for the same thing after watching, so I searched a couple article databases. Apparently there's no essays -- but the film itself is really popular for use in academic papers on culture/film/sci fi. Usually in combination with other films. And sometime a paper will just reference the theory another paper has done on it as part of an argument.

The two articles I liked best were the one I referenced above about the memory engineering process as ideology, and one that I posted about here with extensive quotes. It pleased me to know academics fangirl it so much in their fusty way.

Ack! Typos everywhere! Apologies.

<3 I love the way you said this.

Thank you! Feel free to quote.

The two articles I liked best were the one I referenced above about the memory engineering process as ideology, and one that I posted about here with extensive quotes.

Shall go check out. Awesome.

(My brain has crashed, or I'd try to respond more intelligently to some of the rest of your reply . . .)

One more piece of essay-ish stuff. I was going to write about how Dark City, as the story of a fish learning to build a better fish tank, is a version of Plato's cave story only where there is no ultimate truth to be found. It's gone. You can only know that there is no truth and control the illusion... And then I found out somebody had already said that! LOL And better.

Dark City is a retelling of the Allegory of the Cave used by Greek philosopher Plato, who conveyed the allegory as a fictional dialogue between his teacher Socrates and Plato's brother Glaucon. In the film, the city inhabitants are prisoners who do not realize they are in a prison. John Murdoch's escape from the prison parallels the escape from the cave in the allegory. He is assisted by Dr. Schreber, who explains the city's mechanism as Socrates explains to Glaucon how the shadows in the cave are cast. Murdoch however becomes more than Glaucon; Gerard Loughlin writes, "He is a Glaucon who comes to realize that Socrates' tale of an upper, more real world, is itself a shadow, a forgery."[7]

Murdoch defeats the Strangers who control the inhabitants and remakes the world based on childhood memories, which were themselves illusions arranged by the Strangers. Loughlin writes of the lack of background, "The origin of the city is off–stage, unknown and unknowable." Murdoch now casts new shadows for the city inhabitants, who must trust his judgment. Unlike Plato, Murdoch "is disabused of any hope of an outside" and becomes the demiurge for the cave, the only environment he knows.[7]
--source

This film! It's made of yummy deliciousness!

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Can you imagine what it's like to erase your own past?

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