The Film Paintings of David Lynch

Allister Mactaggart

Description

One of the most distinguished filmmakers working today, David Lynch is a director whose vision of cinema is firmly rooted in fine art. He was motivated to make his first film as a student because he wanted a painting that “would really be able to move.” Most existing studies of Lynch, however, fail to engage fully with the complexities of his films’ relationship to other art forms. The Film Paintings of David Lynch fills this void, arguing that Lynch’s cinematic output needs to be considered within a broad range of cultural references.

Aiming at both Lynch fans and film studies specialists, Allister Mactaggart addresses Lynch’s films from the perspective of the relationship between commercial film, avant-garde art, and cultural theory. Individual Lynch films—The Elephant Man, Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, Lost Highway, The Straight Story, Mulholland Drive, Inland Empire—are discussed in relation to other films and directors, illustrating that the solitary, or seemingly isolated, experience of film is itself socially, culturally, and politically important. The Film Paintings of David Lynch offers a unique perspective on an influential director, weaving together a range of theoretical approaches to Lynch's films to make exciting new connections among film theory, art history, psychoanalysis, and cinema.

Introduction: Towards a Palimpsest 

Chapter One: Ever Died? Ever Failed? No Matter. Die Again. Fail Better. Immanence and Transcendence In Twin Peaks (With Apologies To Samuel Beckett) 

Chapter Two: Reasons to be Tearful: Snapshots of Lynchian Excess 

Chapter Three: Driven to Distraction: Hitching a Ride along the Lynchian Highway 

Chapter Four: Pierced by the Past: Filmic Trauma; Remembering and Forgetting 

Chapter Five: ‘It is Happening Again’: Experiencing the Lynchian Uncanny 

Chapter Six: The Return of the Repressed: INLAND EMPIRE, DavidLynch.Com, and the Re-emergence of Film Painting 

Conclusion: Stitching up Lynch

Sujets

• Arts visuels
• Peinture
• Art Plastique
• Arts plastiques
• Cinéma
• Cinéma
• Cinéma
• Cinema
• Techniques
• Película fotográfica
• Film director
• Painting
• General officer
• History of film
• Art
• General
• Technique
• Film
• Histoire du cinéma
• Histoire du cinéma
• Histoire du cinéma

Informations

• Publié par: Intellect Books
• Date de parution: 14 mai 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781841503875
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

The Film Paintings of David Lynch
For Pip, and the memory of my father, Allister Mactaggart (1914-1997)
The Film Paintings of David Lynch Challenging Film Theory
Allister Mactaggart
First published in the UK in 2010 by Intellect, The Mill, Parnall Road, Fishponds, Bristol, BS16 3JG, UK
First published in the USA in 2010 by Intellect, The University of Chicago Press, 1427 E. 60th Street, Chicago, IL 60637, USA
Copyright 2010 Intellect Ltd
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Cover designer: Holly Rose Copy-editor: Rebecca Vaughan-Williams Typesetting: Mac Style, Beverley, E. Yorkshire
ISBN 978-1-84150-332-5 / EISBN 978-1-84150-387-5
Printed and bound by Gutenberg Press, Malta.
Contents
Acknowledgements
Introduction: Towards a Palimpsest
Chapter 1: Ever Died? Ever Failed? No Matter. Die Again. Fail Better. Immanence and Transcendence In Twin Peaks (With Apologies To Samuel Beckett)
Chapter 2: Reasons to be Tearful: Snapshots of Lynchian Excess
Chapter 3: Driven to Distraction: Hitching a Ride along the Lynchian Highway
Chapter 4: Pierced by the Past: Filmic Trauma; Remembering and Forgetting
Chapter 5: It is Happening Again : Experiencing the Lynchian Uncanny
Chapter 6: The Return of the Repressed: INLAND EMPIRE , DavidLynch.Com, and the Re-emergence of Film Painting
Conclusion: Stitching up Lynch
Bibliography
Index
Acknowledgements
T here are many people to whom I owe a debt of gratitude with the publication of this book, some of whom may not realize just how instrumental they have been in the overall process.
The development of my academic interest in film studies, art history and cultural studies dates back to the mid- to late 1980s when I was spending more and more time in art galleries, at the cinema, listening to pop music and leafing through magazines, pondering in ever more detail the range of images and sounds I was experiencing. Looking for a way to develop my growing interests, I happened upon an A-level evening class in the history of art at Sheffield College. Entering into the near empty building for the first time, with some trepidation, on a cold, dark January evening in 1988, I ventured into a strange and delightful world of clandestine encounters with a wealth of visual materials that initiated an intellectual process which has increased in complexity and enjoyment from that day forth. The enthusiasm of the tutor, Neil Marchant, was intoxicating and we neophytes readily took our engagement with the images encountered from the classroom to the pub to continue our discussions beyond the lessons.
At the end of the course, knowing that I did not want to curtail my new found love of the subject, I then went on to take a degree at that wonderful institution, The Open University, for which I have nothing but praise and admiration, and where I benefitted from an excellent education. In particular, Pamela Bracewell-Homer was a tutor without equal, whose teaching has been instrumental in providing me with the necessary strategies for independent learning which have been invaluable to me throughout my subsequent academic career.
Following my degree I then went on to undertake postgraduate work at Leeds Metropolitan University, the University of Leeds and Middlesex University, where staff and students alike provided a fertile ground for ideas to be nurtured and passions developed. At Leeds Metropolitan University Ron Brown was a most supportive tutor who kindly pointed me in the direction of Adrian Rifkin as a potential supervisor when I came to propose undertaking a PhD. Adrian s intellectual input, both over the period of the PhD and beyond, has been invaluable in providing a framework for me to develop my work in unexpected but rewarding ways and I hope that this book, in some small way, repays his advice and guidance. Similarly, Elizabeth Cowie and Rob Stone have provided most helpful comments upon the work but, needless to say, any errors or misunderstandings lie firmly at my door.
It saddens me greatly when I hear of funding cuts for lifelong education. Without that initial opportunity to study at evening class and beyond on a part-time basis, my new found interests would probably have fallen away due to the lack of academic support to nurture my intellectual curiosity. What is often forgotten by those who hold the purse strings is that these courses offer a wide range of benefits, both educational and social, as well as providing opportunities to take up courses that the strictures of the mainstream educational system may bypass. And students, who dedicate long hours to their studies, in the evenings and at weekends and during holiday periods, repay the initial investment many times over.
Sadly, my father did not live to see the publication of this book but I know that he would have been proud to see it in print, although he would have no doubt chided me for my tardiness.
To Pip Mactaggart I can only express again my love and gratitude for putting up with my Lynch obsession (which isn t over yet), even if she has declined to sit through all of the films with me. Our delightful yellow Labrador Retriever, Tallulah, has provided me with much needed restorative breaks from my books and the computer when she sensed that I had spent too long neglecting the delights of chasing a tennis ball. She certainly isn t the angriest dog in the world.
My inestimable thanks go to David Lynch for creating these singular cinematic worlds to which I now attach my supplementary readings. I trust that he doesn t mind the intrusion.
Finally, but most importantly, I would like to thank Intellect for agreeing to publish this book and for the supportive manner in which they have assisted me in bringing it to fruition. I would especially like to thank Sam King who has been a wonderful book publishing manager throughout, making the process appear effortless and enjoyable, for me at least.
Introduction: Towards a Palimpsest
To be a theoretician of the cinema, one should ideally no longer love the cinema and yet still love it: have loved it a lot and only detached oneself from it by taking it up again from the other end, taking it as the target for the very same scopic drive which had made one love it. (Metz 1982: 15)
And this year I shall have to articulate what serves as the linchpin of everything that has been instituted on the basis of analytic experience: love. (Lacan 1999: 39)
You know what a love letter is? It s a bullet from a fuckin gun, fucker. You receive a love letter from me, you re fucked forever You understand, Fuck? (Frank Booth to Jeffrey Beaumont in Blue Velvet (1986))

Figure 1: Dorothy Vallens performing at The Slow Club, Blue Velvet (1986).
A cinematic love letter
A s far as I recall, I first became aware of David Lynch s work in 1986/7. I do not remember exactly when as I do not keep a diary and, as a result, my understanding or recording of time and memory is not archived in any logically structured written format. Consequently my memories ebb and flow in ways which disturb any logical sense of diachronic understanding, but I will give you my recollections of that first encounter which was when Blue Velvet came out and I went to see a screening at the Anvil cinema in Sheffield. The Anvil was the precursor and poor cousin of the Showroom, the current state-of-the-art independent cinema which is situated in the Cultural Industries Quarter of the city. Prior to the opening of the Showroom the Anvil was the place to see independent and non-mainstream films. It consisted of three small screens situated at ground-floor level beneath the Grosvenor House Hotel in the city centre.
I used to enjoy going to this cinema on a Saturday afternoon, for a treat after a heavy week s work, when it was relatively quiet and one could really enjoy the film in a half-filled auditorium. It always felt such an illicit pleasure being ensconced in the darkened space, knowing that daylight was blocked out while so many people went about shopping, socializing and generally fulfilling the demands of quotidian life outside. On the occasion I first saw Blue Velvet I remember that it was a pleasantly warm day as I drove in to the city centre. In some ways, now that I come to write about it, it feels as if it was recent, not over twenty years ago. I remember being excited, as usual, going in to buy my ticket and taking a seat mid-way back from the screen, my preferred obsessional location. As I recall there were only about twelve other people there, one of whom, a middle-aged man, walked out half-way through.
The auditorium was small and comforting and lined with heavy red velvet drapes. They had a thick texture intended to blot out sounds from the other auditoria. This textural quality was then uncannily echoed in the title sequence of the film as the close-up shots of blue velvet softly rustles like animistic tree bark. The only difficulty I had with the venue was the acoustics, because even with these drapes one could sometimes hear sounds from the film in the adjoining auditorium, and I seem to recall some annoyance at one stage as strange, muffled, uninvited sounds from another film broke through the party wall to my left-hand side. But again, in retrospect, this seems completely apposite to the experience of watching Blue Velvet . Indeed this whole recollection of seeing the film feels most peculiarly Lynchian .
At the end of the screening I remember feeling stunned, baffled and yet elated. I remained seated for some time trying to make sense of what I had just seen. Eventually, I put on my coat and walked slowly out of the auditorium. But I did not want to go home or even leave the cinema building straightaway. And I