Moonage Daydream

by Chuck Williamson

Each summer, sci-fi cinema becomes more and more vulgarized by the bombastic, near-pornographic aesthetic imposed by the blockbuster template: the shaky cinematographic foreplay and explosive pyrotechnic money-shots, marked with sloppy soul-kisses and the lubed-up afterglow of computer generated graphics. With films like Transformers and Terminator: Salvation, the consummation comes with the requisite kicking and squirming, turning our routine moviegoing practices into sordid, shameful fetish play. For many, the so-called “genre of ideas” has been degraded into a vehicle for base gratifications. But in the center of this orgiastic mess is Moon, a modest, ascetic alternative to the norm that, for all its shortcomings, breaks away from the obscene summer aesthetic. Although far from perfect, Moon is an intimate, contemplative science-fiction tale, a breath of fresh air that reminds us that the genre can do more than prop up loud, lifeless spectacle.


Directed by Duncan Jones (son of the original space oddity, David Bowie), Moon ripples with complexity, embracing both formal and narrative paradox; the film adroitly melds its muted, slow-burn aesthetic with wry humanism, logic-puzzle plotting with intimate drama. Moon begins with a languorous, claustrophobic montage where the camera drifts through the empty, sterile interiors of a lunar mining outpost positioned on the far side of the moon. Inside, the world contracts into a small, insular space, a location of stagnation and inertia dominated by the dull, moment-by-moment routine experienced by Sam Bell (Sam Rockwell), the moon base’s sole occupant. Through enclosed, antiseptic cinematography, the film forces the viewer to identify with the isolation and half-crazed loneliness experienced by Bell. Outside, the cold desolation of space exists as a monochromatic daydream, a phantasmagoric landscape filtered through muted, soft-focus photography. Visually, the film is a stunner, a lyrical, lugubrious travelogue that makes its protagonist’s longing and loneliness near-tangible.

But this aesthetic design, a pitch-perfect visualization of the seclusion and alienation central to the narrative, does not drown out the subtle humanity of its characters. Instead, these cold and sterile spaces function as the backdrop for an unexpected shaggy-dog humanism that effectively contrasts the film’s oppressive visual design. Filled with an unassuming warmth and low-key humor that, in a lesser work, could implode and turn the film into a dissonant mess, Moon effectively balances the two. Rockwell’s loquacious, wiseass persona fits perfectly within the film’s framework, grounding the cosmic, contemplative sci-fi trappings with a very human presence. In a fascinating performance, Rockwell plays a man trying to retain his humanity in the most hopeless of circumstances. His interactions with the lunar base’s advanced computer system GERTY (voiced by Kevin Spacey) blend sardonic humor with unexpected tenderness, and the pained, at times prolonged scenes of Bell viewing prerecorded videophone messages from his wife effectively recreates the trauma of isolation. This combination of the cosmic and the seriocomic gives the film the right balance of gravity and levity that, for all its occasional missteps, makes for some entrancing viewing.


Although Moon strikes this successful balance between these disparate elements, it nonetheless craters a bit under the weight of its leaden plot, a one-note museum piece of musty sci-fi clichés and mothball covered genre tropes. Despite its heady, well-conceived beginnings, Moon’s narrative grows a bit tiring near its conclusion. While the film remains engrossing even during its most unfortunate fumbles, the narrative dross that dominates its third-act—a jumbled mess of predictable plot-points and banal revelations—spoils what could have been a more contemplative and complex science-fiction drama. Even its most engaging narrative twists—Bell’s chronic hallucinations, the unexpected doppelganger—conclude with a forehead-slapping turn of events that ultimately diminishes their cumulative impact.

But Moon still preserves enough of its formal and narrative energy to remain both transfixing and surprisingly moving by its ambiguous conclusion. Despite its minor blemishes, the film is moody, melancholic, and quietly affecting, a hushed, meditative sci-fi yarn that doubles as excellent counter-programming to the exploding robots, post-apocalyptic shoot-outs, and time-traveling starships that dominated this summer. Like its protagonist, Moon represents an unassuming but human presence in an otherwise lifeless cinematic universe.
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Reading Movies Meme

Courtesy of MovieMan at The Dancing Image, this meme has been floating around all week and has been quite great to see. Those tagged were asked to pick the 10 most influential film books to their development as writers, scholars, and cinephiles of all sorts. I was thrilled to be tagged in MovieMan's initial post and since then Brandon was tagged by another friend – Jeremy Richey of the always wonderful Moon in the Gutter. Not wanting to cut ourselves short on things that have led this site to its fruitful existence, Brandon and I have each chosen ten books with, kind of surprisingly, no overlap.

I can't speak for Brandon (perhaps he will comment on this post with more explanation on his choices if anyone is curious) but this was especially difficult for me as I feel like my views are in a constant state of flux. With very little access to Films growing up, film books didn't enter the equation for me until late high school and early college when I really got going. But even since then, having just gone through grad school in film studies, I had to decide what makes these books influential. So, this really ends up being a mixed bag of things that first got me interested in studying movies and more scholarly works that have really influenced my own current writing and thoughts towards cinema as I look towards more schooling and an academic career. Its a tough call on all accounts, so I hope this is representative of some of my influences and may explain, as MovieMan hoped for, where some of my experimental/genre slant comes from. Who knows. Nonetheless, here are the books. I'll leave further explanation and discussion for what I hope is a lively comment section.


Brandon Colvin's Reading Movies Meme Selections

Notes on the Cinematographer by Robert Bresson
Film Theory and Criticism edited by Leo Braudy and Marshall Cohen
Movie Journal: The Rise of the New American Cinema 1959-1971 by Jonas Mekas
Lynch on Lynch by Chris Rodley
Everything by David Bordwell, especially Poetics of Cinema
Terrence Malick by Lloyd Michaels
Godard on Godard by Jean-Luc Godard
The film criticism of Jim Emerson, Roger Ebert, Manohla Dargis, and everyone who has ever written for the Village Voice
Tarkovsky edited by Nathan Dunne
Film Comment


James Hansen's Reading Movies Meme Selections

Cinema 2 by Gilles Deleuze
The Cinema, Or The Imaginary Man by Edgar Morin (translated by Lorraine Mortimer)
Dogme Uncut by Jack Stevenson
Film As Subversive Art by Amos Vogel
Hard Core by Linda Williams (and mostly everything else by Linda Williams too)
The Magic Hour by Jim Hoberman
Manifestoes of Surrealism by Andre Breton
Men, Women, and Chain Saws by Carol Clover
Nathan Lee (duh)
Roger Ebert's 1990 Movie Companion (most notably the discussion of Lynch's Wild At Heart entitled, if I'm recalling correctly, "The Case Against David Lynch")

More recent additions to my repertoire that would be on this list if I had a little more time to absorb them:
Change Mummified by Philip Rosen
Cinema of Attractions Reloaded edited by Wanda Strauven
Collecting Visible Evidence edited by Jane Gaines and Michael Renov
Devotional Cinema by Nathaniel Dorsky
The Most Typical Avant Garde by David James

(Update!) Chuck Williamson's List
THE PARADE'S GONE BY by Kevin Brownlow
MOVIE-MADE AMERICA by Robert Sklar
WHAT IS CINEMA? by Andre Bazin
BABEL AND BABYLON: SPECTATORSHIP IN AMERICAN SILENT FILM by Miriam Bratu Hansen
VISUAL AND OTHER PLEASURES by Laura Mulvey
CINEMA AND SPECTATORSHIP by Judith Mayne
CINEMA, OR THE OTHER MAN by Edgar Morrin
A HISTORY OF THE FRENCH NEW WAVE CINEMA by Richard Neupert
POST-THEORY: RECONSTRUCTING FILM STUDIES by David Bordwell
EARLY CINEMA: SPACE, FRAME, NARRATIVE ed. by Thomas Eisaesser and Adam Barker
FILM COMMENT

Thanks again to MovieMan and Jeremy for calling upon us to make these lists! Hope they share something about ourselves and maybe give some of you something to check out.
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James Hansen's 12 Movies Meme

I'm a little late on posting this (sorry!) but better late than never. I'll assume everyone remembers the rules of this 12 movie meme, started by Lazy Eye Theatre. This is my list of 12 movies for a week of programming at the New Beverly Cinema. It may not make any money, but hey...a boy can dream, right?

MONDAY

The Flicker (1965) and Tom, Tom, the Piper's Son (1969)

There isn't a better way to start the week than a couple films that explore and deconstruct the medium. Tony Conrad's The Flicker uses alternating black and white frames to create a 45 strobe-like effect that goes right to your brain. Ken Jacobs's work analyzes Thomas Edison's short film and discovers all the details that can be found within any given frame. All the flickering may cause some headaches (anyone with epilepsy should probably not attend), but these films would highlight the distinctiveness of the medim of film; a great starting point for the week.

TUESDAY

Side/Walk/Shuttle (1992) and D'est (1993)

The messages of these two "travelogues" are quite different, but seeing the similar, yet distinct, method each film takes in evoking sadness, memory, and (de)construction within the different locations (whether San Francisco or the whole of Eastern Europe) would be breathtaking. Ernie Gehr and Chantal Akerman are masters of form; these films could work as an introduction to each artist, but are also key (if not the best) works from each director.

WEDNESDAY

Flaming Creatures (1963) and Pink Flamingos (1972)

After two nights of serious meditation, the festival's halcyon days are over. It's time to have some fun with these manically hysterical works from Jack Smith and John Waters. Smith's film is an admitted inspiration for Waters, so it seems fitting to place the two side by side. And really, what is a film festival without flaccid penises and incestual blow jobs?

THURSDAY

Blue Movie a.k.a. Fuck (1969) and Crash (1996)

Continuing on Wednesday's sexual themes, these works from Andy Warhol and David Cronenberg use sexuality as a means to identify and explain other elements of human existence. Warhol's Blow Job could also work here, but for its mundanity and placement within the violence of the Vietnam War, Blue Movie is a compelling partner to Cronenberg's better known, highly controversial film.

FRIDAY

Cache (2005) and Numero Deux (1975)

Made 30 years apart, these video works are definitive statements on the changing landscapes of cinema in the face of (post)modernism and new technology. Michael Haneke and Juc Luc Godard are keen observers of people, families, and politics; these work highlight these similar obsessions and provide, at least to a small extent, a thematic counterpoint to the filmic works of Conrad and Jacobs.

SATURDAY

Doomed Love (1978) and L'Amour Fou (1969)

At a combined 517 minutes, Manoel de Oliveira and Jacque Rivette's almost completely unseen masterpieces may create an incredibly long, draining double feature, but I am convinced that it would be the best day of my life. The titles create a double feature pairing and so do the filmmakers. Always on the edge between theater and cinema, Oliveira and Rivette playfully explore convention while taking cinematic art to new heights. What a way to end a week.

Thanks to Piper from Lazy Eye Theatre and Jeremy from Moon in the Gutter for connecting us to this great meme! It was a lot of fun. Hope another one this fun comes along soon!

by James Hansen

PS- Please let me know if this post has a strange format or something. I am posting it from a really old computer at my work, so I'm slightly worried...

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Brandon Colvin's 12 Movies Meme

Happy Friday everyone! It's been a slow week for us, but we're hopping to end the week with a bang. Recently, Brandon and I were memed by Jeremy Richey at Moon in the Gutter to take a part of the 12 movie meme. It was started by Piper at Lazy Eye Theatre, and the idea (for those of you who haven't seen this meme floating around yet) is to create your own 12-movie week long film festival for New Beverly Cinema.

Here are the rules...

1) Choose 12 Films to be featured. They could be random selections or part of a greater theme. Whatever you want.

2) Explain why you chose the films.

3) Link back to Lazy Eye Theatre so I can have hundreds of links and I can take those links and spread them all out on the bed and then roll around in them.

4) The people selected then have to turn around and select 5 more people.

Although Jeremy tagged Brandon OR myself, we have decided to both do our own lists because we think it is a lot of fun, and we both created our own lists and (without telling each other) had no overlap at all in the films chosen. You can continue reading Brandon's list below...my list will be posted later tonight. (I secretly only had time to post one, and get all the materials, before I have to go to work today.)

Thanks to Piper and Jeremy for making us a part of this meme! I hope you all enjoy our lists and can fantasize about these festivals actually happening.

MONDAY:
ALL THAT HEAVEN ALLOWS (1955) and ALI: FEAR EATS THE SOUL (1974)

Melodrama at its finest. Douglas Sirk presents a glossed-up meta-analysis of Hollywood fantasy/domestic unrest and Rainer Werner Fassbinder retells the same story, this time racially-charged, with his New German grit.

TUESDAY:
THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1928) and DIARY OF A COUNTRY PRIEST (1951)

Carl Th. Dreyer and Robert Bresson, two of cinema's greatest poets, spin tales of martyrdom and spiritual anguish while presenting wildly contrasting examples of stylized acting through the marvelous performances of Maria Falconetti and Claude Laydu, respectively.

WEDNESDAY:
NAKED LUNCH (1991) and ADAPTATION. (2002)

How does writing happen? David Cronenberg and Spike Jonze/Charlie Kaufman tackle the challenges of, well, adaptation, in these two very different films, each of which blends biography, process, exaggeration, and self-referentiality while trying to uncover how stories are made and how fiction functions in relation to reality.

THURSDAY:
DOG STAR MAN: PRELUDE-PART IV (1962-1964) and STALKER (1979)

Nearly polar opposites on the editing spectrum, Stan Brakhage's experimental opus and Andrei Tarkovsky's metaphysical masterpiece elaborate upon the strange, strange journeys of their protagonists into strange, strange lands. To see the rapidity and hyperkineticism of Brakhage's avant-garde work juxtaposed with the contemplative leisure of Tarkovsky's pacing would be pleasurably mind-stretching.

FRIDAY:
AGUIRRE, THE WRATH OF GOD (1972) and THE THIN RED LINE (1998)

Both Werner Herzog and Terrence Malick are adept at capturing the natural world in a powerful context that is always aesthetically cleansing. This pair of jungle films revolves around brutality, madness, and moments of beauty - sometimes only perceptible to the cinematographic eye.

SATURDAY:
LA NOTTE (1961) and THE PASSION OF ANNA (1969)

Emblematic of the explosion of European art cinema in the 1960s, Michelangelo Antonioni and Ingmar Bergman have been compared, contrasted, and fought over endlessly, particularly since their nearly simultaneous deaths. Undoubtedly, the two were great film artists and remain two of the most influential directors on my conception of what cinema is and should be. These two films are a couple of my favorites.

by Brandon Colvin

Hope you all enjoyed the list! I will meme a set of others with my post later tonight. Have a great (hopefully film-filled weekend!)
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