In remembrance of Dennis Hopper, who passed away on May 29th, The FAM presents David Lynch’s 1986 masterpiece Blue Velvet, a film that did perhaps just as much for Hopper’s career as it did for Lynch’s. I would imagine that most, if not all, Coilhouse readers have seen this film at least once. Starring the aforementioned Mr. Hopper as the psychotic Frank Booth as well as Kyle McLachlan, Laura Dern, and Isabella Rossellini, Blue Velvet is the story of a small town that hides dark and terrible secrets. It’s a classic Lynchian theme by now, but coming after the disaster that was 1984’s Dune — a film that I must admit, I like very much and a book, I must admit, I dislike as equally — it was a revelation.
Much of the film’s success must be placed at the feet of Mr. Hopper who, after accepting the role of Frank Booth (he was Lynch’s third choice for the part) was said to have exclaimed “I’ve got to play Frank! I am Frank!” His portrayal of Booth: impulsive, unpredictable, and terrifically violent, makes for one of the scariest characters in all of film. His constantly shifting moods and disturbing, recursive, Oedipal-tinged sexual proclivities, combined with his iconic nitrous oxide kit, are the perfect foil for McLauchlan’s naive, amateur detective. It’s a truly masterful performance.
In many ways Blue Velvet may be Lynch’s crowning achievement, and part of reason for that, I would maintain, is due to its relative simplicity. The imagery he uses here is powerful, but it is also far less obtuse than he has a tendency to be. In other words the signal to noise ratio of meaningful symbols and Stuff David Lynch Thought Looked Pretty is fairly low, making for what I feel is a much more complete and perhaps enjoyable experience.
At the very least, it’s a chance to see Dennis Hopper at his crazed, drug-addled best, every line spewed wild-eyed, frothing, and peppered with profanity. He shall be missed.
Tulane University’s LOUISiana Digital Library hosts a vast collection of imagery related to the Mistick Krewe of Comus, a Louisiana Carnival krewe which helped to popularize the ornate pageantry now associated with Mardi Gras. Part of their collection is an entire catalog of designs by Charles Briton, 101 in all, described thus:
This collection is the complete set of costume design drawings for the 1873 Mistick Krewe of Comus “Missing Links” parade. It was an important event in New Orleans’ Mardi Gras history, becoming one of the first major parades to use satire and political commentary. Many of the images depict figures related to the Civil War and Reconstruction, such as Ulysses S. Grant, Benjamin Butler, and Louisiana Governor Henry Warmoth. Also depicted are notable figures such as Charles Darwin, and Algernon Badger (head of the Metropolitan Police).
Their blog also points out that the 1873 parade — the full title of which was “The Missing Links to Darwin’s Origin of Species” — featured no floats as well as a distinct lack of crowd control on the part of a uncooperative, and apparently, unpopular police force.
It’s a menagerie worthy of Bosch himself, a creative and colorful collection of depictions, many of which bring with them just a bit of period appropriate racial bias, shall we say (take a look at, say, the Snail, the Leech, or the African Elephant after the jump). Regardless, they are a wildly imaginative piece of history and worthy of a look. Just keep in mind that some of them may leave you feeling a little uncomfortable.
The curators of all things weird and Soviet bloc over at English Russia have a collection of wonderful illustrations from the 1976 edition of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit, by Mikhail Belomlinsky. A prolific illustrator of children’s books, Belominsky’s interpretations are that perfect mix of foreboding and fun. I am especially smitten with his rendition of Gollum. I would love to get my hands on a copy for the illustrations alone, regardless of my inability to actually read it.
Memorial Day is almost upon us in the States, and we here at The FAM have chosen to begin our long weekend with sex, drugs, and violence, as is our wont. Today we present 1971’s Get Carter, directed by Mike Hodges and starring Michael Caine; quite possibly one of the greatest gangster movies of all time, British or otherwise. Based on the novel Jack’s Return Home by Ted Lewis — which took its inspiration from the “one-armed bandit murder” in the north east of England in 1967 — it tells the story of one Jack Carter as he weaves his way through Newcastle’s seedy underworld in search of the truth of his brother Frank’s death, supposedly due to a drunk driving accident. In his wake he leaves a trail of bodies and a river of blood.
There is an image of Michael Caine for many people, greatly influenced by The Cider House Rules and his role as Bruce Wayne’s butler Alfred Pennyworth in Christopher Nolan’s Batman films, of a kindly, wise, and lovable older man with a cockney accent. For this audience Caine will be almost unrecognizable here. His Jack Carter is a ruthless man; death in a well-tailored suit. Carter’s rampage through Tyneside is relentlessly brutal culminating on a lonely, gray beach and ends on a note that takes the viewer completely by surprise, though the more astute will recognize the players from an exceedingly brief appearance at the very beginning of the film.
Get Carter is a highlight in a storied career and it remains one of my favorite movies. To be sure Caine has played many memorable characters besides Jack Carter, but few have had that kind of presence on screen. It’s a role almost completely devoid of pathos. Jack Carter is out for revenge, and he really doesn’t care how you or anyone else feels about it. All that’s certain is that he’ll get it, one way or another.
Ellis Nadler’s fictitious deck of divination cards is a perfect combination of woodcut aesthetic and Hieronymus Bosch insanity; the tools of fortunetellers from some far-off, imaginary realm. Beautifully rendered they are the kind of work that begs to be made into a physical object.
Update: Reader Fritz Bogott contacted Mr. Nadler and posted his response in the comments:
“‘They are currently being made as a hand-printed fine art limited edition (details available later this year). However, due to great interest from people visiting my website I have now made them available to buy online as high quality digital prints. Just follow this link.’“
Weirdness and misogyny this week on The FAM as we present 1987’s The Confessions of Robert Crumb produced by the BBC (which includes the wonderful Arena opening and song. Seriously, I love that intro.) Unlike 1994’s Crumb by Terry Zwigoff (which is seeing a Criterion release this August) Confessions is less concerned with Crumb’s bizarre family and more concerned with the man himself. In that regard it spends much of its time letting Crumb explore and contemplate his objectification of women and self-loathing, preferring to be a catalog of the man’s various fetishes, to merely witness a day in the life of a dirty old man.
Both documentaries illustrate how difficult it can be to separate the artist from their art. A great fan of his work I can’t help but cringe as Crumb displays his current wife to the camera, showing off her musculature as if he were trying to sell the viewer a horse. It is, perhaps, admirable that one would be able to be so honest with the world, willing to expose one’s Id to whoever passes by, and it has certainly worked out well for Robert Crumb. I just can’t help but think that those images made living, breathing flesh are not nearly as entertaining when not on the printed page.
Remember that racy 2008 Orangina commercial from France? Yes – that one. As described by the Todd Mueller, the Creative Director of the Psyop, the agency that produced the spot, the “Naturally Juicy” campaign was all about “raunchy naughty furriness”: animals dancing in burlesque outfits, spraying other with Orangina and riding giant bottles until they explode. The TV ad was accompanied by a colorful pin-up print campaign that included octopus, jellyfish and cactus women, illustrated by artist Antoine Helbert. In his personal work, featured here, Helbert continues the human-animal theme in a more nuanced, less gendered way. Some of these characters remind me of China Miéville’s Remade; people whose bodies are transformed through a mixture of grafting techniques and magic into hybrids of human, animal and even mechanical parts. [via Allie]
Simple and effective, Benjamin König aka Sperber’s illustrations are beautiful little vignettes and eerie portraits, many of them taken from fairy tales, all of them with a dark, creepy Edward Gorey veneer. I just love these, and it took all my strength not to simply put every single one behind the cut. He has a postcard set for sale that is seriously tempting me at the moment.
I’ve been staring at this illustration by Jerico Santander all morning. Staring, alt-tabbing over to actual work and then alt-tabbing back. Entitled “Only the Strong Survive” it’s a promotional piece for Calder Bateman — which a Google search informs me is a PR company. I’m just completely taken with it. What, really, is there not to love about Deer Hunter as performed by hamsters. Nothing, that’s what. This is, I suspect, exactly what the lives of hamsters are like when not in range of the prying eyes of humans: a shady underworld of illicit gambling and bloodsport, and no one will convince me otherwise. Click here for the full-size image.
Artist duo Lucy and Bart, previously mentioned on Coilhouse, have a history of crafting low-fi yet complex representations of genetic enhancement. Recently, Lucy McRae further elaborated on these themes by creating the two videos that you see here together with artists Mandy Smith and Mike Pelletier.
In the Peristaltic Skin Machine clip above, McRae aims to “redefine the body’s surface… using liquid, air, speed and color.” Plastic tubes running along the length of the head and neck appear to cycle multi-colored chemicals along the skin’s surface, simultaneously hinting at some form of futuristic intravenous engineering and recalling the ancient art of mapping Chi pathways and meridians. Below, the clip Chlorophyll Skin shows human skin enveloped in porous white sacs that change color as the video progresses, taking on the resemblance of scales, feathers, and succulent fruit at various points in the clip. Vitalic and Fever Ray provide the perfect soundtrack.
