Wait a minute, baby
Stay with me a while
Said you'd give me light
But you never told me about the fire
Drowning in the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
When you build your house
Call me home
And he was just like a great dark wing
Within the wings of a storm
I think I had met my match -- he was singing
And undoing, and undoing
The laces
Undoing the laces
Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change, never stop
But now it's gone
It doesn't matter what for
But when you build your house
Well then call me home
Hold on
The night is coming and the starling flew for days
I'd stay home at night, all the time
I'd go anywhere, anywhere, anywhere
Ask me and I'm there
Ask me and I'm there
I care
In the sea of love
Where everyone would love to drown
But now it's gone
They say it doesn't matter anymore
If you build your house
Then please call me home
Sara, you're the poet in my heart
Never change, and don't you ever stop
Now it's gone
No, it doesn't matter anymore
When you build your house
I'll come by
There's a heartbeat and it never really died
Swallow your pride
All I ever wanted was to know you were dreaming
Strange ways comin' today
I put a dollar in my pocket and I threw it away
Been a long time since a federal dime
Made a jukebox sound like a mirror in my mind
Comb my worries, fix my thoughts
Throw my hopes like a juggernaut walks
Now, let down souls can't feel the rhythm
Sorry entertainers like aerobics victims
Hybrid people light a wooded matchstick
Toxic fumes and the burning plastic
Beats are broken, bones are spastic
Boombox talkin' with a southern accent
Voodoo curses, Bible tongues
Voices coming from the mangled lungs
Gimme some grits, some get down shit
Don't need a good reason to let anything rip
Radio's cold, soul is infected
One by one I'll knock you out
God is alone, hardware defective
One by one I'll knock you out
Mr. Microphone makin' all the damage felt
Like a laser manifesto, make a mannequin melt
There's people phonin' in like it's unlimited minutes
Going through the motions just to say that they did it
Treadmills running underneath their feet
So they feel like they're going somewhere
but they're not
So let's put boots on the warehouse floor
Coming to you like a rope on a chain store
Throwing equipment from a moving van
Grab a microphone like a utility man
Now fix the beat, now break the rest
Make a kick drum sound like an S.O.S.
Get a tow truck 'cause it's after dark
And the dance floor's full but everybody's double parked
Cell phone's dead, lost in the desert
One by one I'll knock you out
Eye of the sun is out of it's socket
One by one I'll knock you out
This shit is real
---------------------------------
Clearly I've been on a Beck kick lately. This is a really fun song to dance to... but you gotta have a little funk in ya, and a morbid sense of humor. ;)
See me comin' to town with my soul
Straight down out of the world with my fingers
Holding on to the devil I know
All my troubles'll hang on your trigger
Take your eyes and your mind from the road
Shoot your mouth if you know where you're aiming
Don't forget to pick up what you sow
Talking trash to the garbage around you
See me kickin' the door with my boots
Broke down out in a ditch of old rubbish
Snakes and bones in the back of your room
Handing out a confection of venom
Heaven's drunk from the poison you use
Charm the wolves with the eyes of a gambler
Now I see it's a comfort to you
Hammer my bones on the anvil of daylight
I won't give up that ghost
It's sick the way these tongues are twisted
The good in us is all we know
There's too much left to taste that's bitter
I've been a big fan of Junior Boys ever since their debut album Last Exit hit in 2004. The duo have released four albums now and every one of them has been a winner in my eyes. Their approach to sound is really unique; nobody else quite captures their combination of chunky electronica, smooth vocals, and thoughtful lyrics. Jeremy Greenspan's blue-eyed soul-style vocals and their love for the occasional saxophone break has always made me think of them as a sort of modern Hall & Oates, if Hall & Oates were cool. But make no mistake, what these guys are doing is purely their own thing. They use electronics to build these sort of elliptical spaces within their music. What at first sounds quite simple reveals itself to be layers built upon layers of sound with repeated listens. Their lyrics tend to focus on love and heartache, and are generally delivered via metaphor and simile. The songs, even the most upbeat ones, are intimate, confessional even. To quote notoriously picky Guardian music reviewer Alexis Petridis (who loves them), "[They] balance dancefloor euphoria with a nagging, inescapable undercurrent of melancholy."I agree.
Easily one of my all-time favorite Junior Boys tracks is Sneak A Picture, from their 2009 album Begone Dull Care. The first time I heard this song I thought it was a bit unfocused and overly long. Repeated listens, as so often happens with their music, revealed it to be much more nuanced than I had initially given it credit for. After an extended, dreamy intro, the song begins in earnest, clean and simple, but steadily building, slowly adding those layers I mentioned earlier with each new verse and chorus, eventually dropping into a thick, heavy coda at the 4:53 mark. This steady tension finally pays off at 5:57, when the synths reach their full (yet oddly understated) power. Along the way there's a smooth sax break, done without an ounce of irony, and it actually works. That alone is pretty damn impressive if you ask me. Reading this you've probably been thinking, "Okay, he's talking about a dance track." But nope, Sneak A Picture is a slow jam -- in the purest sense of the term. In fact, this is one of the sexiest -- and darkly subversive -- slow jams I've ever heard. This is eletronica for adults. No mind-numbing EDM here. Get sexy and give it a few listens...
Game over, it's a new owner Punches chipping off your pride Move slower, you're one day older Find the darkest side of the night
Sneak a picture above my shoulder Don't make a sudden move You'll spoil the light Oh no
Once, double stride Roll again 'til it's right Twice, sudden start Move around, find the part
Pan forward and frame the border Clean up every matching line She looks perfect in every color Find the one that's not too bright
Sneak a picture of a cheap performer Don't let it go too far 'cause it's not the art Oh no, oh no
Once, double stride Roll again 'til it's right Twice, sudden start Move around, find the part
Once, double stride Find your pace deep inside Twice, sudden start Sleep it off where you are
Once, know your smile Add some more on your bedroom pile Twice, trick your heart Show the lens who you think you are
Sneak a picture Catch an empty corner and dress it with a set of your best regrets Then go, then go
Til it's right Once, double stride Find the part Twice, sudden start Deep inside Once, double stride
Where you are Twice, sudden star Bedroom pile Once, know your smile Who you are Twice, trick your heart
Wiyoo by Ronika. Think Chaka Khan-meets-Madonna circa 1982. I can't believe this song never got big. The video is equally amazing. Aside from the wacky pinball machine beginning, it's completely made up of footage from a dance competition that had to have taken place in 1984 at the very latest. I think my favorite of the competitors is the super feminine Army guy who comes on at 2:25. You can just feel the pure joy he has while dancing. It's a trip! The woman at 0:54 who's wearing that shiny 1985 Astronaut Barbie outfit is probably God. I'm thinking about building a religion around her. Seriously, this is such a fun, catchy song and really fun video!
I can't remember when I was young
I can't explain if it was wrong
My life goes on but not the same
Into your eyes my face remains
(I've been so high)
I've been so down
(Up to the sky)
Down to the ground
I was so blind, I could not see
Your paradise is not for me
Autour de moi
Je ne vois pas
Qui sont les anges
Surement pas moi
Encore une fois
Je sui cassee
Encore une fois
Je n'y crois pas
There is a light above my head
Into your eyes my face remains
I can't remember when I was young
Into your eyes my face remains
------------------------------------
This is my favorite Madonna ballad. Although I have always liked the song it wasn't until my father passed that I feel I truly "got" what it was about. In fact, more than any other piece of music, Paradise helped me through the process of grieving and letting go, but never forgetting. It was then that Paradise went from being a great Madonna ballad to a song I connected with on a very deep, visceral level. And so sometimes when I think about my dad, such as tonight (for whatever reason), I like to play this song. And I thought I'd share it with you guys. It truly is a beautiful song, and that truly is an understatement.
When you dream, you only dream you're Annabel
All the secrets there inside you, Annabel
Born beneath an emerald sky, sing Annabel
Nothing that they did will stop you, Annabel
Land of the lines, tangled there in porcelain
Under the stars you'll begin
When you dream, you only dream you're Annabel
Sleep reminds you, takes you there, oh Annabel
Gentle whisper, endless winters, Annabel
Why, they could have let you be both, Annabel
Land of the lines, of the years below still lies
You are the truth they denied
Run like the sea, tangled there in porcelain
Under the stars you begin
Only a boy
Only a boy under that
Only a boy
----------------------------------
Below is the video to Annabel, the new single from Goldfrapp's album Tales of Us, out next week. The video, shot in the format of a short film (it's about seven minutes long), uses hazy black and white film and sumptuously photographed textures such as dripping water and a shimmering, silver dress to tell the story of a young boy experiencing gender identity issues. He finds solace in a small gesture by an understanding soul. It's a wonderful video, beautiful and bittersweet and ultimately uplifting. In many ways I was this young boy at one time. The song itself is a highlight of the upcoming album, focusing on Alison's gentle, melodic vocal delivery and a warm, subtly pleading guitar arrangement that builds to a dramatic string section. Chill-inducing stuff.
Touch my garden
Rain clouds, mountains
Sunshine all day long
Sunrise, meadows
Oceans, rainbows
Starlight all day long
Golden new world
Rain clouds, mountains
Ride my pony
Ride him slowly
Smiling all day long
You give me this love
Dial up my number now
Weaving it through the wire
Switch me on, turn me up
Don't want it Baudelaire
Just glitter lust
Switch me on, turn me up
I want to touch you
You're just made for love
I need ooh la la
Coils up and round me
Teasing your poetry
Switch me on, turn me up
Oh child of Venus, you're just made for love
I need ooh la la
You know I walk for days
I wanna waste some time
You wanna be so mean
You know I love to watch
I wanna love some more
I'll never be the same
A broken heel like a heart
I'll never walk again
Words
They cut like a knife
Cut into my life
I don't want to hear your
Words
They always attack
Please take them all back
If they're yours I don't want any more
You think you're so smart
You try to manipulate me
You try to humiliate
with your words
You think you're so chic
You write me beautiful letters
You think you're so much better than me
But your actions speak louder than words
And they're only words unless they're true
Your actions speak louder than promises
You're inclined to make, and inclined to break
Words
They cut like a knife
Cut into my life
I don't want to hear your
Words
They always attack
Please take them all back
If they're yours I don't want any more
You think you're so shrewd
You tried to bring me low
You tried to gain control
with your words
You think you're so sly
I caught you at your game
You will not bring me shame
with your words
Too much blinding light
Your touch
I've grown tired of your
Words
A linguistic form that can meaningfully be spoken in isolation
Let's talk about David Lynch. I've mentioned before that I'm a big Lynch fan, but more than that I actually consider him a personal hero of mine. I love the way he can bend reality within film and create purely cinematic experiences to which you're riveted. You may not know what the hell is happening within the movie but damn if you can't take your eyes off the screen anyway! No one else can reach such sublimely surreal heights while still feeling completely rooted in reality. Many have tried, many have failed.
Lynch is a jack of all trades. In recent years he's moved away from film (sadface) and more and more into music. He's always had a hand in music and its come to the fore with his recent work. I'm not quite so enamored of his music. When solo, his stuff is more like abstract mood pieces, not unlikable but not essential by any means. His work with Angelo Badalamenti and Julee Cruise for Twin Peaks and later songs he did with Danger Mouse are much better, in my opinion. That said, I admire that he likes to try new things, that he isn't afraid to venture into less lucrative endeavors. He's one of the most iconic directors around today and here he goes and all but abandons film to focus on small indie music projects. I may not love his music but I love that he does it anyway! He's intensely creative in a variety of ways, and uses that creativity to do his own thing. He doesn't let others' demands drive him as an artist.
Also, he was a bit of a dreamboat back in the day.
I also admire him as a person. Lynch is big on Transcendental Meditation. I couldn't meditate to save my life but it's clear from interviews that it has had a huge impact on him. He brims with positivity and a sort of contentment you don't often see in people. For some it can be hard to square the friendly, affable man with the dark, often violent imagery you see in his films. It seems clear that his openness stems from meditation and I imagine the clarity he says he gets from it has helped him acknowledge the darker aspects of life so often depicted in his films and still be the outgoing, kind person he is. If you ask me that's pretty damn cool.
Truth be told, I think he's still a bit of a dreamboat. (Don't judge!)
So why am I fanboying out over David Lynch today? Yesterday The A.V. Club ran an interview with him for Hatesong, their column in which they talk to someone about their most hated piece of music. It grabbed my attention because, duh, it's David Lynch! But his choice for his most hated song also intrigued me. He chose It's A Small World from the Disneyland attraction of the same name. Now I love me some Disneyland, and I even have a little place in my heart for Small World (emphasis on little), but I was curious what he had to say about it. IASW is a pretty stereotypical song to hate; it seems everyone bitches about it's incessant, repetitive hook. But I just knew Lynch would bring something new to the table in griping about this most catchy of songs, and he didn't disappoint. You can check it out here. I'll let you enjoy discovering why the song haunts him to this day, but I have to point out how awesome it is that they actually had to use a code word for the song while talking about it with him. Dude really hates It's A Small World!
Nightmare fuel?
As a nice little bonus, here's The World Spins, one of his collaborations with Angelo Badalamenti and Julee Cruise for Twin Peaks. The first time I heard this song was in Twin Peaks, married to one of the most harrowing and heartbreaking television scenes I've ever witnessed. It had a huge impact on me. I'm not sure how I'd feel about this song had I first heard it on it's own, minus the Peaks visuals. I might've hated it. But it will always be connected to Peaks for me, and it never fails to move me when I listen to it now.
As another bonus, here's FlavorWire's rank of Lynch's best work, top to bottom. I don't agree with all of it but they make some good points. In the meantime, if you haven't watched a Lynch film in a while, get thee to the video store!
Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place...
Have you ever had a piece of art, be it a song, a painting, a doll, move you -- touch you -- so much, that to put into words what it is seems impossible, even futile? That to try to even begin to explain what it means to you, and how it has affected you, is to almost belittle it? Sometimes a work, whatever the medium, connects with you so deeply that it feels like it has been there all along, already a part of your DNA, a component of your molecular structure. You just weren't aware this part of yourself existed until you experienced it "face to face". And then when you do experience it, suddenly so much about the world, and yourself, (because let's face it, we all ultimately view ourselves as the world), makes sense. That's what I had the first time I watched Peter Weir's 1975 film, Picnic at Hanging Rock. It's impossible to really explain just what Hanging Rock is and why it's so special, much less what it truly means to me, but I'll try to detail what makes it so unique. Rarely do you come across a film that is so subtle, yet so cataclysmic.
Picnic at Hanging Rock was only Australian director Peter Weir's second major film. I'm using the word "major" loosely; Hanging Rock was funded almost entirely independently. It was released before the "independent film" market was a thing, before it was it's own striving mini-industry. Hanging Rock didn't even get US distribution until early 1979. I'm not pointing out Hanging Rock's independent roots to signify some sort of foolhardy "cool" factor for the film, but to highlight that it was so good it eventually reached Hollywood, at a time when that was virtually unheard of for Australian cinema. It stands alongside Nicolas Roeg's 1971 film Walkabout (another great movie, though it doesn't touch me on as deeply a level as Hanging Rock), as the film that kickstarted Australia's new wave, bringing Aussie cinema to a much larger worldwide audience. To my understanding Hanging Rock is such a pop culture phenomenon in Australia that it has developed it's own cottage industry (Hanging Rock is real place), to the point that many natives have started to rebel against it, a sort of Aussie Citizen Kane. Whatever the modern homeland connotations of Rock, there's no denying it's quicksilver ability to hook those expecting a staid period drama but getting an altogether different beast entirely.
Don't let the period costumes fool you, there's some crazy shit going on here.
Before we get into the real meat of this film I must share a major spoiler. When (if?) you watch it you'll think I've ruined the film for you (if you've not yet seen it and want to, that is). Trust me, it's better to go into Rock knowing the end than to not. The basic thrust of the film involves a few people who go missing. They are never found, there's no resolution to their disappearance. Once you let go of needing an answer to what happened to these people you can freely tune in to Rock's character-driven narrative and focus on the symbolic actions of the people left behind, and the subtle clues scattered throughout that nudge you along the way. This is how the film is meant to be viewed -- as a character study of the people left behind after the disappearance, and the implications of the disappearances. Of course, your brain will do it's damnedest to try to solve the mystery anyway, even when you know the film never resolves it. Oh, there're also the supernatural elements strongly hinted at repeatedly throughout the film. Provocative, no?
Time stops at Hanging Rock...
Picnic at Hanging Rock is set in Victoria, Australia, in the year 1900. It's Valentine's Day, and the young ladies attending the fictional Appleyard College are going on an excursion to Hanging Rock, a real life volcanic formation in the area. They are warned by their domineering headmistress, Mrs. Appleyard, that the area is inhabited by poisonous snakes, among other things. They are accompanied by two of their teachers, the romantic, dreamy Mlle. de Poiters, who is French, and their stiff, English professor Miss McCraw, the very picture of uptight, but knowing, formality. Among the students are vivacious (for the time) Irma, studious Marion, and Miranda, a wise, charismatic, ethereal young woman who seems to attract the attention and affections of all who encounter her.
Mrs. Appleyard. Even if that face were kind the hair would still say "Yeah, don't eff with me, you'll regret it."
Ethereal Miranda
Mlle. de Poiters
As played by Anne-Louise Lambert, Miranda perhaps sells the film more than anyone else here, despite being in only the first half hour. Like Janet Leigh in Psycho, Anne-Louise Lambert is so incredibly talented and beautiful that it comes as a shock when she exits the film so early. Her charisma and charm are so potent that you're instantly hooked; you're right there with the remaining characters throughout the rest of the film, confused and bereft after her disappearance. It is Anne-Louise as Miranda who opens the film with a spoken-word quote by Edgar Allan Poe: "What we see and what we seem is but a dream, a dream within a dream." In addition to being the first clue that we the audience need to let go of literal readings when watching Hanging Rock, it works to align the character of Miranda with our subconscious -- before we've even seen her onscreen. (As said by Weir himself in an interview during the film's initial Australian release, he went to great lengths to separate viewers from rationality as early and as often as he could.) Miranda is the icon of Picnic at Hanging Rock, the first character we're drawn to and the one who most lingers in our minds after the movie is over. Not only does she sell the film visually, she is the thing that seals all fates symbolically, the one who sets everything in motion. She is the twist, and depending on how tuned in you are to the subtleties of the dialogue in Rock, you may just see it coming a mile away.
We also have Miranda's roommate Sara, an orphaned girl who seems to have a schoolgirl crush on Miranda. We soon learn she is the scapegoat of headmistress Appleyard; she is forbidden to go on the school outing to Hanging Rock, and in the second half of the film her troubles with Appleyard will come to the fore. It is anguished Sara, so put upon by Appleyard and struggling with the loss of her best friend, who is the heart of the film. Margaret Nelson plays Sara's heartbreak and confusion perfectly, conveying her awkwardness and desperation so realistically that it can sometimes be hard to watch. Margaret Nelson did a few more things in the late 70's before disappearing from the public eye. A real shame as she was clearly a true talent.
Sara and Miss Trunchbull Mrs. Appleyard
Rounding out the primary cast are Dominic Guard as Michael, a proper English chap, and John Jarratt as Bertie, an Australian servant to Michael's family. (You Tarantino fans may recognize Jarratt as the Aussie who shows up towards the end of Django Unchained, albeit as a much older man than he is here!) Both give strong performances, especially considering how young they were at the time.
Michael...
... and Bertie. (A bit hunky, eh?)
To do a straightforward plot synopsis seems pointless when you're dealing with such an enigmatic film. Anyway, the plot is really quite simple: some girls go missing in the Australian outback in 1900, those left behind must face the repercussions and/or self-destruct. As I already said, those who go missing are never found. (Well, except one, but I'll leave the details for you to discover -- and decipher.) The key to Rock is the tone, the atmosphere, the dialogue. All three elements are inextricably linked: the alternating sedate and heavy tone creates an atmosphere of contrasting beauty and unease, making each little word of dialogue, no matter how inconsequential, seem as if it carries portents of ultimate truth. Or mystery. Weir directs Hanging Rock with the precision of Kubrick, and perhaps it's for this reason the movie can be so infuriating for some. Modern (read: young) audiences may find the movie's subtle, gesticulating story hard to deal with. The pre-Lynchian surrealism and open ending are hardly crowd pleasers.
Rock raises many (MANY) questions, but it's not so forthcoming with answers. The film plays like a riddle, dropping hints and clues, seemingly pointing you in certain directions -- then turning them on their head. No scene exemplifies this as much as the film's centerpiece ascent sequence. We watch as the four ladies climb the rock, their Victorian garb standing out against the harsh slopes and valleys of the mountain. As they climb higher they seem to become mesmerized, as if in a trance, by the rock itself. They look down from their high perch at their fellow schoolmates lounging far below. In a detached voice, Marion observes, "A surprising number of human beings are without purpose, though it is probable that they are performing some function unknown to themselves." A bit later Miranda dreamily observes, "Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place." Hmm... just what's happening here? The girls continue climbing, taking a break to bask in the glory of the sun, breezily dancing on the rock outcroppings and simply gazing at the natural wonders around them. They even take their shoes and socks off, an act considered lewd and unbecoming in Victorian society. They reach a plateau where they all fall to the ground in unison for a brief nap. Ants crawl across their legs while a lizard passes by. They wake up in unison and in single file, small smiles of acceptance on their faces, climb the final perch. It's the last time they're seen. This ascent sequence lasts about ten minutes and is the best moment in the film. It takes on a strong surreal tone, the combination of dialogue, acting, and especially music, giving the whole event an odd tone, one that leaves you puzzled and intrigued.
Transcendentalism? What transcendentalism?
This would be the modern equivalent of, I don't know, Lindsay Lohan or something.
From this moment on one begins to wonder just what they're seeing, and everything that follows -- and everything that came before -- seems loaded with meaning. Why was Miss McCraw looking at a mathematical diagram just as the girls made their final ascent? Is that a clue to their disappearance? Why does Sara whisper Bertie's name early in the film? And why does he see her in a dream towards the end? Miranda told Sara before leaving on the trip that she wouldn't be around much longer. Did she know what was going to happen? Why is Mrs. Appleyard so disappointed in Miss McCraw? Did they have a connection we don't know about? When Michael makes his important discovery why does he hear the girls' voices in his head? What exactly is the relationship between Mrs. Appleyard and Sara? Why does she seem to hate the poor girl so much? And what's with the color red? What is it's importance? The list goes on...
Okay, you survived a time slip or alien abduction or rockslide
or something. Why you suddenly wearing red, huh?
Although the ascent is the most surreal moment in the film there are several others, most of them loaded with symbolic meaning. Michael, haunted by his brief memory of Miranda, has continual visions of her, sometimes as a swan. (It's not as weird as it sounds -- there are no Black Swan-esque transformations here.) Irma, upon returning to the school, is all but attacked by the other students. Meanwhile, poor Sara has been literally strapped to the wall, a punishment for her poor posture. (It looks like a torture device -- Victorian "ladies" were tough.) Miranda, in a scene straight out of a horror movie, wields a large knife she aims right at the camera -- except all she's cutting is the heart-shaped Valentine's Day cake they're about to eat. (Notice how the camera lingers on the heart-cake, now cut in half.) Just before she wanders off and disappears forever, Miranda's small wave goodbye inspires Mlle. de Poiters to exclaim, "Now I know! Miranda is a Botticelli angel." There are countless seeming throwaway scenes that carry deeper meaning upon closer inspection: a flower being pressed in a lock for safekeeping, a chain of young ladies tightening each other's corsets, a statue of St. Valentine being held high by the girls during a celebration, the passing back and forth of a bottle of wine between Bertie and Michael. Those are but a few.
Thematic elements abound in Rock: corrupt power, the perils of Victorian repression, burgeoning sexuality, British colonization, class structures, the harshness of the Australian outback. And that's just the literal stuff. Anything beyond that is up to speculation, and Rock most certainly invites speculation! Did the girls disappear into a time slip? Or perhaps an Aboriginal dream state? Maybe it was as simple as they just fell into a deep cavern, or a boulder fell on them. But if that's the case, how to explain that pesky red "cloud" Edith saw when the girls disappeared?
Theories are many as to what happened. I even have my own -- but I'm not saying what it is. What I will say is Picnic at Hanging Rock is the kind of film that strives on it's lack of closure. It's the questions it raises that keep you hooked, that get under your skin, that make you think. In many ways the questions are the very point. It's a lush film, loaded with stunning cinematography and utilizing relaxing, naturalistic music (thanks to Zamfir's panpipe), and a much more tense, ominous, electronic score (by Bruce Smeaton). Both film and score have been highly influential -- just look at Sofia Coppola's excellent The Virgin Suicides.
Although it openly engages it's audience to ponder what it's all about there are no "wrong" answers to the mysteries of Hanging Rock. (Speaking of, how nice to have a movie that takes it's audience seriously!) And it's why this film is so very personal for me, why I'm reluctant to even say what my own interpretation is. The ways it has touched me are impossible to put into words; everything I've discussed here is ultimately surface. Rock is what you make of it. Subtle yet cataclysmic. What we see and what we seem is but a dream, a dream within a dream...
In 1967 The Moody Blues recorded and released a song called Nights in White Satin. Maybe you've heard of it. Justin Hayward sings in soulful agony of a love unrequited. The sound is lush and atmospheric, all symphonic gloom and doom. I absolutely love it, and can see the influence it had on many of my favorite modern groups, especially Air.
But, great as it is, I'm not here to talk about that version. In 1976 (oh, the 70's, how I love you), Italian disco pioneer Giorgio Moroder did a cover of it. This would've been a total disaster if not for the fact that Moroder is a supremely talented musician. He pretty much created modern dance music, as echoes of his work in the 70's and 80's are still felt repeatedly today. Over the years he has won three Grammy's, four Golden Globes, and perhaps most impressively, three Academy Awards. He got those last three for his film score work. Chances are, even if you somehow haven't heard iconic songs like I Feel Love, Flashdance... What A Feeling, or Hot Stuff, you've heard his film score work. And he's still working today. He scored the closing ceremonies of the 2008 Beijing Olympics, and worked with Daft Punk on their upcoming album. Anyway, Moroder released a full album based around his cover of the song. Side A contained three tracks all built around the song: the straight up cover, a middle portion called In the Middle of the Knight (this part composed with Pete Bellotte), and a final reprise of sorts also called Knights in White Satin. Although the tracks could be played separately, they were segued so if you played the record without stopping you got a full 14 minutes and 45 seconds of Satiny goodness. Side B contained three additional tracks composed alongside Pete Bellotte.
This being the 70's, the album cover was sufficiently batshit insane.
Although the back cover does give it a run for it's money.
Moroder took on singing duties himself. His interpretation of the vocal removes the agony in the original, replacing it with a husky seediness. Not surprising, really -- this was the 70's, after all. Towards the end of the first track, however, he goes into a whisper as he says, "I want you... I need you... I love you..." repeatedly. Accompanied only by a syncopating chime, he's gone into a sort of desperate plea. Still sexy, but a bit dark as well.
His production work is ace. For a disco tune the pace is rather slow. It's all funk snares and clomping beats. This being disco, an orchestra was in order. Here it soars with smooth, glacial stabs, hitting it's peak after the second chorus, where a cross faded echo effect emphasizes the previous crescendo of Moroder's excited shouts of, "I love you, love you, love you, love you!" Amazing stuff.
Beyond the standard cover, my favorite portion comes in at the six minute mark, and lasts exactly two minutes. Here the beat gets chunky, the atmosphere (even more) funky, and the synths dreamy and ethereal. It's very "Pass me a Pina Colada, I'm heading for the Lucite!" Love it! It's followed by a trademark Moroder synth-cheese portion -- these moments would increase in his music through the 80's. At 9:15 things toughen up again, and we go into the reprise. The chorus is protracted to emphasize it's epicness, the funk comes storming back in, drums cascade around the vocal as lush freestyle piano darts in and out, and the orchestra gets increasingly frenetic. The track eventually fades on Moroder's vocal ad libs.
Here's the standard version, aka track one...
But I highly recommend the full 14:45 suite. It will give you so much more in every way...
All in all, a big, lush, romantic (in that seedy disco way), gift to those who love the dance floor. Break this one out when a friend tells you disco sucks. Chances are they didn't even realize disco could be this, well, artistic. Too many people go straight to the Funky Towns and Le Freaks for disco -- great songs to many, but also a very small representation of what disco really was. Knights in White Satin is a true gem of a song, just as good when chilling with a glass of wine as when you're dancing your cares away out on the floor.
And since it did inspire such a wonderful disco tune (and because I love it a lot, too), here's the original...
When I think of cinema classics Cat People is always one that comes to mind first. Granted, it's no 2001, but damn if it isn't a potent little gem in it's own right. I pay it a visit every few years and always thoroughly enjoy it. The last visit was just a few days ago and it's been floating around in my head since.
The moment this wonderfully dark Art Deco title card comes on the screen you know you're in for a treat.
Part of what fascinates me about Cat People is it's origins. Released in 1942, it's the product of a struggling studio trying to make a quick buck with a trendy "creature feature". Orson Welles' Citizen Kane nearly bankrupted RKO Pictures; the studio needed a hit, and the cheaper they could score one the better. They saw the money the Universal horror flicks were raking in and devised a plan: they would make cheapie horror flicks, cashing in on the horror trend and, hopefully, earning back the money they lost on Citizen Kane. They set up a department headed by Val Lewton, who would produce the films. They would give him titles and it was his job to build a film around them. The first of these films was Cat People. RKO anticipated a scary movie following a monstrous being, a la The Wolf Man or Frankenstein. What they got was an intelligent character piece that also serves as an early example of psychological horror. Much to RKO's delight the film was a smash success, and a handful of cheaply made Lewton horror flicks followed in quick succession. The element of surprise may have played a role in the film's success. People probably weren't expecting a movie called Cat People to be so gorgeously shot, it's sumptuous shadows and light giving it a sophisticated, noir-ish tone. That it was filmed in a matter of weeks on a shoestring budget truly astounds me; it looks like a million bucks, as they used to say. And the subject matter, when you really get into the psychology of it, is very dark.
The creature feature poster art, though certainly beautiful,
doesn't quite convey the dark, psychological depths this film will plumb.
The story revolves around Irena Dubrovna, a Serbian-born fashion designer working in New York City. She meets all-American "good boy" Oliver Reed and the two promptly fall in love. But Irena has a problem. She believes she suffers from an ancient curse: if she is emotionally aroused she will turn into a panther and kill her lover. This creates problems in their relationship. Irena loves and wants to be with Oliver, but is afraid that if she lets her love fully engulf her she will transform and kill him. What are they to do?
Oliver and Irena have their meet-cute... but things won't stay cute for long...
The strength of the story here lies not in the literal plot but rather in the subtext. And, boy, is this movie loaded with subtext! Back then films were much more restricted in what they could say and show onscreen. Topics that were considered "taboo" had to be dealt with through symbolism and metaphor. Here, Irena's curse is an obvious stand-in for sex. But beyond that, what the movie delves into is fear and power, of letting go, or the opposite, self-repression.
As seen in the above three shots, visual symbolism tells us as much about these people, their motivations,
and their fates as the spoken dialogue does.
Beautiful French actress Simone Simon played Irena and she does an amazing job. She is sweet, kind, approachable, and yet, as we see later, can also be quite menacing. She's also conflicted; Simon plays Irena's alternating joy and fear perfectly. There are moments when we see Irena is so full of longing, of wanting to let her love for Oliver burst forth, but she just can't. And later in the film, as she finds herself literally and metaphorically cornered, we see her vengeful, angry side come out. It's a complicated, multi-layered role; my hat's off to Simon for handling it so adeptly.
The stunning Simone Simon as Irena, relaxing in her apartment in front of her alter ego,
the same Art Deco panther we saw earlier in the film's title card.
Irena drops to her knees in frustration, unable to open the door she leans against to let her lover in.
Cat People occasionally flirts with surrealism. The first and best of these moments comes during Irena's first visit to her psychologist. She's under hypnotism, laying down with her eyes closed, and she speaks in a dreamy, distant voice of her childhood in Serbia. A spotlight is pointed on her. All we see as she speaks is her face surrounded by pitch black, almost as if she is floating. It's a stark visual, beautiful and atmospheric. It also highlights the isolation Irena feels because of her curse.
Under hypnosis, floating into her subconscious, Irena speaks of her deepest fears.
Although not scary by today's standards, Cat People has two extremely tense scare sequences. The first one involves a late night walk through Central Park and a particularly loud bus. The other, an underground swimming pool and some atmospheric (and frightening) shadows. Both scenes are gorgeously shot and perfectly edited. The tension just builds and builds until it finally explodes! Just don't expect Nightmare On Elm Street caliber scares; Cat People is from a different time and what was scary then is much tamer today.
Alice is being stalked by... what? A jealous woman? Or perhaps a vengeful panther?
Shadows and light give Cat People a moody visual tone. Horror never looked so lush.
One thing I really love about films from this era is that they didn't underestimate their audience. A perfect example is the handling of Dr. Judd, Irena's psychologist. Judd is not a good man. He is the person Irena is most depending on to help her. The nature of their relationship is intimate, he's her psychologist after all. But he really has no intentions of helping her at all; instead he plans to exploit her because he finds her attractive. In a modern movie Dr. Judd's motivations would be shouted out at us through obvious dialogue and actions, because modern filmmakers don't trust their audience to be smart enough to pick up on subtleties. In Cat People this storyline is handled smartly; his motivations are initially hinted at, and only later come to the fore, but the whole time we understand that he is not to be trusted. Another example is Alice, Oliver's coworker. She will eventually become a wedge between Irena and Oliver, and perhaps even helps seal Irena's fate. But rather than present her as a one-dimensional, mean-spirited, "other woman", the film presents Alice as very likable -- a smart, independent woman with a mind of her own. It's easy to see why Oliver likes her because we like her, too.
Alice and Oliver begin to suspect that maybe Irena's curse is real...
In the end there are no easy answers or solutions to the problems these characters face. That's part of what makes the film so engrossing. You're wondering through the entire film how any of this could possibly end happily. And, spoiler alert, it doesn't. The heartbreaking ending is surely part of what makes Cat People so potent. But even more so, the internal conflict Irena feels, of wanting so badly to love but being afraid to, is what really makes this movie tic. There are constant undercurrents of treachery surrounding Irena -- Dr. Judd, Alice, and even Oliver, who never takes her belief in the curse seriously until it's too late. And what will happen when all this pressure Irena feels -- from others, from herself, from her vacillating hopefulness and frustration -- comes to a head? There's a lot going on in Cat People, and if you're willing to engage in the psychology of it, and investigate what is implied rather than what is outright said, you'll find a lot to chew on here. You may even find yourself moved by it. This is a great film that I always suggest when people ask me for a good "old movie". Highly recommended!
Cat People bids you farewell on a somber, poetic note.
The placement of the panther's cage behind it isn't without reason.
