bleak shit! what if there was a capital-driven, family-endorsed plan to sacrifice children to some unnameable, inescapable, quasi-esoteric techno-conservative bloodlust ("part of our world, our craft, a way of controlling our environment"), to have them rot right before your eyes! what if! imagine it! wouldn't that be fucking scary !
the small business owner always gets it in the ass!
hooper's most purely pleasurable, trades the stark gothic blankness of the original for a deliriant subterranean carnival ride in dizzying neons through the travails of maintaining a family business. the walls emblazoned with expansionist atrocity, are stuffed with entrails and oozing blood, the entire latter half of the movie taking place within the sickly guts of some tired creature, belching steam and corpse-dust and the smell of good ol' fashioned…
What makes Lynch so fascinating is that he’s a conservative whose aesthetic tendencies (unerring empathy for/centering of his female characters, a proclivity for exploring dysphoric relationships between persons and their bodies/bodies and the world, and an affinity for the cynical epistemology of the noir) constantly undermine his nostalgic and otherwise regressive gestures. Nowhere is that more apparent than in The Return, a colossal moral reckoning with the willful failure of each and every available institution (cultural/political/social) to reckon with trauma.…
on the violent impositions of movie-making, the mere force of a video camera's gaze enough to draw out a hidden evil in the placidity of an essentially anonymous landscape. baffled that anyone could watch this and demand less talking, less arguing, because honestly there's nothing more purely dread-inducing here than the pointless circumambulations that people engage in when they're terrified and have no fucking clue what they're doing. the terror is built with negative space, visually and narratively, the absences…