I have a film pitch for you and it goes straight on the list of ‘Films You Never Thought You’d See or Thought You’d Ever Want To See’. It’s a mash-up of concepts in the style of old composite monster flicks (Frankenstein Meets The Wolf-Man, Godzilla vs. The Smog Monster, etc.) featuring stunning Alaskan country scenery, terrifying hairdos, jarring ambient sound effects and astounding wildlife. It’s called ‘Grizzly Man Meets Eraserhead’ and it’s the love story of an excitable eco-warrior and a tormented young fellow confronted by carnivorous mammals and subconscious dread. It’s a surreal quest for El Dorado in which no one finds gold, the Spanish Empire is beaten by the absurdity of the New World and where Klaus Kinski may not be what he seems. He’s just a lesbian fantasy projection, and in the end, monkeys and the scary tramp hiding behind the diner are going to get him. If that’s too much, try ‘The Curious Enigma of Kasper Hauser’s Blue Velvet Dungarees’, in which a young boy is raised in isolation by Dennis Hopper then abruptly freed from his dungeon and left to face the strange ways of suburban society in rural Germany. When they first meet the unenlightened man all he can say is, “Heineken?! Fuck that shit!”, which is an indication of just how hard they have to work to civilise the poor soul. The promising hint is there on the poster for the German director’s movie, My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done?, (now finally out in the UK) in the tag, “Presented by David Lynch”. Admittedly, this just means that the director of Eraserhead and Dune is the producer and has a big enough name to help promote the flick. He and Herzog haven’t sat together cooking up a murder story, and Lynch isn’t credited for any writing or directing. Nevertheless, watch it through and you can feel the weird one’s presence in the movie, like a phantom filter on the Fitzcarraldo director’s San Diego-set Greek tragedy. In Michael Shannon, utterly astounding as the killer son Brad McCullum, you can see the sparking spirit of Klaus Kinski and parallels to other Herzog protagonists possessed by inner turmoil and in conflict with their environment. Where previous central characters have attempted to haul steamships over South American mountains or reach El Dorado, in My Son, My Son… McCullum is moved by an inner voice to reject God (manifest in a box of Puritan Oatmeal) and murder his overbearing mother. Herr Herzog is always worth watching anyway, but there’s something very interesting in this odd venture and I’d like to see more. I don’t know if the director of My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done? was actively trying to impress his producer by making a Lynchian flick, but regardless, the combination of two highly unique visionaries is appealing. Initially, they seem like odd bedfellows. One’s a bleak European who believes that the universe is cruel, unhappy and chaotically indifferent, whereas the other is a bizarre American with floppy hair and sidelines in transcendental meditation and coffee. Nevertheless, dwell on it deeper and take My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done? as a sample of the sort of affecting madness that could result and you see that great things could come from the continued collaboration of the strange couple. They could be like Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez for pretentious film students and the über-sophisto arthouse crowd. Even if the Grindhouse-style B-movie fantasy mash-ups I listed above are unlikely and idiotic (except Grizzly Man Meets Eraserhead. That’s a keeper) I see invigorating and exciting outcomes coming from this unholy union of auteurs. Perhaps the best way to proceed with this filmmaking relationship would be for Lynch to return the tribute and make his ‘Werner Herzog film’. It’d be nice to see the man behind Wild At Heart and Twin Peaks make a nature documentary like Grizzly Man or Encounters At The End Of The World. I can see it now: a landscape of flamingos stood silently, looking strangely artificial and plastic while constant churning industrial sounds provide the aural backdrop. Grace Zabriskie then shows up with a terrifying, overzealous smile, screams, “I’m in love with my animal friends!” and hugs one of the big birds. In return, the assaulted flamingo pecks her ear off. Forget documentaries. Let’s have Lynch’s remake of Fitzcarraldo where an opera enthusiast tries to bring classical music to the rainforest. It turns out to be a futile endeavour because Dennis Hopper has already chopped off everyone’s ears. Maybe I shouldn’t watch these obscure, deeply disorientating movies. James’ previous column can be found here. James’ movie-spoof comic strips are right here.
