There’s always a moment of anticipation, of bristling, silent dread, in the great films about catastrophe. The bustle and noise of a film’s expository passages recede. Some of the house lights go out. A hush falls– and maybe even the crickets stop cricking. Don Delillo’s classic postmodern novel White Noise, far from a popcorn page-turner, nevertheless captured this sensation well: a prestigious college town menaced by a toxic cloud on its outskirts. We experience a grim awakening to distinctly modern terrors from the p-o-v of an insecure middle-aged professor and his over-educated, chatterbox family. Taunted by their equally motormouthed TV sets, this egghead clan reasons and dissembles its way around panic about as efficiently as a laborer shoring up a levee with paper towels.
Last week I witnessed a lot of folks reaching for the paper towels in New York City. At my day job, well-heeled co-workers and superiors fretted over their investments in the wake of a careening stock market but quickly cheered themselves up by noting that the financial panic was good for our company’s business (no, not pharmaceuticals or pawn brokerage). There was casual talk of pulling vast sums out of banks and stashing cash at home– then rumors about criminals, wise to this practice, going on burglary sprees in upscale neighborhoods. There was a lot of good humor, but it was definitely gallows humor.
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I honestly don’t mean to keep devoting time and blog space to Uwe Boll, but when the guy manages to say something hilarious or interesting every other day, what else am I to do? Write about serious issues like the future of film criticism? Karina’s got that covered quite sufficiently and efficiently, so I might as well stick to the fluff.
Of course, I can still relate the fluff to film theory, as in the case of Boll’s latest peer slamming, located at MTV Movies Blog. After criticizing the uneven work of Tom Tykwer (sorry, Uwe, but Perfume is a far better film than Run Lola Run), Gus Van Sant and Michael Haneke, he goes off again on his favorite nemesis, Michael Bay:
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In continuing to use his movie blog as a platform for Hillary Clinton hate wrapped in the thinest of pop cultural guises, is Jeffrey Wells doing some kind of brilliant, absurdist theater, or has the presidential election simply driven him insane? First, when Baby Mama was announced as the opening night film for the Tribeca Film Festival, Wells admitted “a certain part of me would like to see Baby Mama go down as a kind of karma payback for [Tina] Fey’s Hillary shilling.” I went to SXSW and ignored Wells’ blog for a week; when I came back, I discovered a post titled “Funny Games = Hillary Campaign.” Note the lack of prevaricating question mark in the headline: this is an unequivocal statement.
So what’s Wells’ evidence that Michael Haneke’s English-language remake of his own 1997 thriller has anything materially or spiritually in common with the troubled campaign of the first serious female presidential candidate? It’s specious, of course––amongst other things, he notes that the antagonists played by Michael Pitt and Brady Corbett “are clearly monsters, a term that has recently been used to describe Senator Clinton by former Obama foreign policy adviser Samantha Power”; they and Hillary also have “similar” haircuts!––but Wells’ balls-out committment to his own craziness is, as always, engaging.
Horror site Bloody-Disgusting is hosting a new clip from Funny Games, Michael Haneke’s English-language remake of his 1997 film of the same name. This go-round stars Naomi Watts, Tim Roth, Michael Pitt and Brady Corbet; in this clip, a ridiculously creepy Pitt goads Watts on an unpleasant scavenger hunt. Watch it here.
