I can generally find something to appreciate about any film. There are, of course, exceptions. LA LA LAND, for example, left me really bored and miffed, as did AVATAR (please, don’t make me sit through three more of these). But, generally, I have fairly eclectic taste. I love the arthouse and the grindhouse about equally. For me, the art film and the exploitation film both have something to offer: extremity and distinction. Paradoxically, though, I am also a casual fan of the Marvel Cinematic Universe (though the output is growing increasingly uneven). The MCU is perhaps the definition of formulaic, indistinct, and tame. But it is fun, and that’s why I enjoy the films (at least casually).
This is to say, in terms of cinematic taste, I am all over the place. Compared to the general population, I have a deep knowledge of the weird corners of underground cinema, but compared to paracinema die-hards, I’m still a newbie. Perhaps according to the schlock connoisseurs, I give mainstream Hollywood a little too much credit, and according to your average moviegoer, I have an unrelatable taste for the offbeat. So, how did I end up with a foot in both cinematic worlds? I credit two directors as my gateway into the weird: Quentin Tarantino and David Lynch.
Tarantino came onto my radar a bit earlier. It makes sense, his work is easy to grasp, it’s exciting, it’s visually interesting, it’s well-written, and it carries a sense of momentum and energy. Tarantino’s ouvre is as well-crafted as it gets, and it has enough action and humor to appeal to the cinematically clueless (like I was when I first came to him). His films are plot- and character-driven, they’re concrete, and they’re fun. I think my first Tarantino film was PULP FICTION, followed quickly by RESEVOIR DOGS and INGLORIOUS BASTERDS. As far as I was concerned he was a quirky action director. Soon I began understanding the references he was making to the exploitation genre. From there, a whole new subculture of cinema began to open up for me.
David Lynch’s films are far less concrete. They get weird, ethereal and abstract. I can’t remember the first time I tried to watch TWIN PEAKS, but I know it took me several attempts before I made it past the first few episodes. On the third or fourth viewing I began to understand. These characters were more ideas than they were realistic personalities. The strange dialogue always had double-meanings (“There’s a fish in the percolator!”), but it functioned less like a code and more like a freudian association. If finally clicked for me that David Lynch isn’t interested in portraying reality, he’s interested in making dreams. Lynch’s films don’t primarily function as a plot-delivery system, rather, they make use of the many possibilities of film as an audiovisual medium. Impressions, associations, and surreal and unsettling imagery contribute just as much to a Lynch film as character and plot. Lynch made me realize that the experience of cinema isn’t limited to character and plot.
To my mind, Tarantino and Lynch both straddle the mainstream and the underground. They are giants of cinema, and if they’re not household names, they’re at least extremely widely known. Their popularity probably counts against them in many underground circles. But for mainstream viewers, they’re weird and offbeat in their own way. But the best part about both, in my opinion, is that they point beyond themselves. Their work is a celebration of the potentialities of cinema itself, and a gateway to the weird, whether the weird of the grindhouse or the weird of the arthouse.
Jacob N. Given 