Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Bookhouse Boy

I picked up 3 movie books at the Virgin Megastore in Times Square before I left New York and I’m having a good time with them.

A revised edition of “Lynch On Lynch” now takes you through the making of Mulholland Drive. I was surprised that I bought it, actually, as I cooled off considerably on David Lynch after Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me. Part of the problem was that I was really caught up in the show and everything he did afterwards, especially the feature-length sequel, soured me on him. Wild At Heart seemed to be teetering on the edge of self-parody; FWWM was tedious and nihilistic; Lost Highway a serious case of the Emperor wearing no clothes; and Mulholland Drive a failed TV pilot with a tacked-on ending that made no allowances for its tube-related loose ends. But his work still holds an attraction for me and the book makes for interesting reading, managing as it does to get some answers out of the notoriously secretive director.

“Losing The Light” was a book I’d always meant to get around to reading. It belongs to what is now a sub-genre of film volumes devoted to the hellish experience of making and releasing a Terry Gilliam picture. This one’s devoted to the fracas surrounding Gilliam’s Baron Munchausen and it’s the usual TG Vs. The Suits, but especially interesting to me as I have a special fondness for the Baron, an affection that only seems to increase with time.

Lastly comes D.K. Holm’s “Kill Bill: An Unofficial Casebook.” Holm, who can be read regularly over at Movie Poop Shoot, takes on the task of annotating both volumes of Tarantino’s grindhouse extravaganza, complete with timecodes and everything. You will learn that Beatrix Kiddo’s name can actually be seen on her boarding pass in Volume One (with the aid of your pause button), a popular but profane sentiment is spelled out (once again, carefully pausing) on the bottoms of her sneaks when we see them from below during the House Of Blue Leaves sequence, and Bill’s Superman speech can actually be traced to Jules Feiffer.

You know…the kind of stuff I like to know. Don’t you?


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