Man, there’s a lot going on here. I’m not even sure where to begin unpacking all the threads of subtext in this film.

Let’s start with the Straw Dogs-y conflict between the disconnected city folks and the seething-with-resentment locals. There’s an element of emasculation in such encounters that is discussed explicitly in the film, which I think captures the overall sense of guilt and inferiority city dwellers feel when visiting the rural areas that support their lifestyle. I think there’s a larger point to be made about the degree to which American city dwellers have bought into the idea that rural/small town life is, in some way, more genuinely “American” than city life. Of course, this is absurd, since cities tend to embody the characteristics we tend to admire about the country (e.g., tolerance, innovation, creativity, etc.) whereas rural areas are often full of less exciting things (e.g., racism, closedmindedness, lack of education, etc.), but, as a country, we’ve bought into the myth of the small town (largely created, ironically enough, by city-dwelling European immigrants) as being morally superior.The film does a great job of both expressing the tension caused by this sense of superiority and highlighting the fallacy of it (since the local townies, to whom George feels inferior turn out to be imbecilic and dangerous).

Next up’s our nation’s treatment of Native Americans. It almost feels like Fessenden read Blakemore’s essay on The Shining and decided that, even if that wasn’t what Kubrick was going for, he wanted to make a film that would do exactly what Blakemore suggests. The Wendigo myth (in which a man-demon demands an endless procession of human flesh on which to feed) certainly would seem to indicate the attitude of the colonists as they methodically dismantled the native civilizations and built their somewhat dubious civilization, while trying not to think of themselves as genocidal maniacs. As in The Shining, Fessenden even makes use of our fondness for appropriating Native American images to sell baking products (baking powder in The Shining, flour in Wendigo), just to remind the viewers of the degree to which we’re able to forget about our bloody history, even when we look at reminders of it on a daily basis.

There’s more to get into (connections between Bob from Twin Peaks and the Wendigo as metaphors for the evil man is capable of and/or supernatural cop-outs to cover up human frailty, depending on your point of view), but these are supposed to be brief write-ups. Needless to say, I enjoyed this movie immensely, and I suspect I’ll end up watching Habit tonight (and The Last Winter this weekend).

I think I need to just accept that I don’t really enjoy physical comedy that much. I know there’s a lot of strong sentiment about this film and the great depths it offers beyond the comedic aspect, but, if the textual, comedic aspect of the film fails to entertain, you’re left with some fairly thin “anti-capitalist” whining. “Work is dehumanizing” is fine, but you’re not really telling me anything I don’t already know, and I’m pretty sure the protagonist’s endless quest to continue to find work, regardless of its dehumanizing aspects, undercuts that message significantly. Anyway, most of the film is devoted to the “Oh, look something hilarious is happening! And then it’s happening again! And, oh my, he’s doing the exact same thing a third time!” structure, which gets pretty tedious if you didn’t find it funny the first time.

Much like the last Cammell film I watched, the director lost interest in the film about 2/3rds of the way through and just ended up doing an endless series of effects shots. It almost worked in Performance, since that film wasn’t really about anything particularly coherent, but here we jumped from the computer telling Julie Christie how he planned to inseminate her (which I’m still not entirely clear on – I think I missed how the computer turned into the giant Rubik’s Snake creature) to lengthy shots of lens flares and primitive computer line art.

One would think that, if you are the sort of director who does things like that, you’d take rampant productorial interference a little better than Cammell did.

I know I shouldn’t really be looking for deep characterization or plot development in a 77 minute painstakingly animated film, but this seemed even more simplistic than Nightmare Before Christmas. It certainly looked nice and had some well-done sight gags, but generally failed to engage me. Maybe I was too tired.

I get that this film is chock full of spiritual references, and there are, according the unusually confrontational (at least in a Film Comment-y sort of way) Criterion essay, people who read the whole film as a big passion play, but the only message I got out of the film is that doing whatever asshole bikers tell you to do isn’t going to end well for you. Perhaps after a guy beats your donkey and tries to rape you, dating him isn’t the best idea. For you or your donkey.

I hadn’t seen The Rapture since a late-night cable screening in the early 90’s, so I was left with only a handful of weird memories (the pearl tattoo, Duchovny appearing on the photographs, the fabulously bleak ending). Eleanor hadn’t seen the movie at all, so I was glad to revisit it. It’s possibly weirder than I remember it. While there are certainly some very stagey moments that detract a little bit from the film, there’s a really nice level of creepiness as she discovers the ubiquitous cult that exists just out of her awareness.

And I nearly forgot. There’s a bit about 1/3rd of the way through, right after Sharon becomes born again, where she’s talking to Vic. Vic lies down on her bed and positions himself in the position of the Hanged Man in the Rider-Waite tarot. I’m not entirely sure what the meaning of it is. Wikipedia tells me the Hanged Man’s associated with destruction of self giving way to divinity, so maybe there’s a whole storyline about Vic and Sharon’s debauched lifestyle actually being a prerequisite for her to be making her spiritual journey. Or maybe I’m completely off-base. It’s just such a deliberate posing (much like the appearance of The Hermit in Equilibrium) that I assume there’s something going on there.

Compared to the painfully smug Ocean’s Twelve (and I know there are people who assert Ocean’s Twelve is one of the best films ever made, but I have yet to be persuaded at all by these assertions), this was a reasonably enjoyable caper flick, but there’s something sort of deflating once they start discussing the cost of the caper. Once your protagonists are will to shell out tens of millions of dollars for their scheme, they tend to lose their critical underdog appeal.

Well, now I feel like kind of a jerk. I’m watching the film and, as it progresses, Doinel continues to alienate his friends and family by being deliberately stupid and antisocial. I guess we’re supposed to feel sorry for him, but I just find myself saying, “Good. Send the little bastard to jail. He’s an idiot.” Then I find out it’s all autobiographical, and I feel bad about my sentiments.

Aside from that, I really enjoyed the first half of the film, when it’s a more blatant Zero de Conduite knock-off. Once we switch gears (almost exactly afer the near-recreation of a scene from Zero de Conduite), I kind of lost interest a bit.

I’m sort of ashamed to admit it, but I’m not really sure I like noir as an overall genre. There are a few a like, certainly (usually ones with Orson Welles in them), but, on the whole, I tend to find them a little sluggish. I’m not sure if it’s the levels of veiling required by the production code, or what, but quite a lot of the subtleties sort of go over my head. Perhaps I’m just thick.

Laura, on the other hand, was entirely unsubtle and very strange. I’d certainly be more fond of detective films if all detectives allowed the fussy bachelor suspect tag along with the investigation and make bitchy comments to the other suspects. And, of course, the mid-film twist was really quite excellent and unexpected.

We actually started watching this in the theatre, but walked out after thirty minutes or so due to noisy patrons. I certainly enjoyed it more this time, but still found it all a little empty and trite. I can certainly understand Moore’s objection to swapping out the ardent anarchism of his graphic novel with ill-defined liberalism in this one. If you’re going to include lots of highfaluting voiceover about the power of ideas, it would be helpful if your embodiement of those ideals had something stronger to say than “fascism is bad.”