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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.
. . . 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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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
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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.)
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