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Ray Pride

By Ray Pride Pride@moviecitynews.com

Critic proof: a French take on Tarantino's latest

From the latest Cahiers du Cinema, an appreciation of Death Proof, that may or may not be inexactly translated from the French: “First comes the decision to start over the same movie twice. One could serve as a model for the other, the other as the commentary for the former, fionaquentin764yu.jpgas if repetition sufficed to suggest a relationship. Pure hypothesis. Then come the gaps and scratches that impact the 35mm, stemming from a desire to reproduce the poor quality typical of “grindhouse” film prints. We could choose to see only fetishistic nods in them. Preferably, we will recognize a superior truth: Death Proof‘s race is first and foremost that of film stock. Chatter may abound, tires may crease, but without the stock, the two films would go limp, cut short. Machine law has replaced rhetorical construction. To speak, to drive, to film, it’s all the same high-powered bachelor car, thrust blindly on death boulevard. It’s the famous tiger’s leap into the past: film sets out from scratch, far from the digital, tongue hanging and feet to the ground. In this regard, Tarantino is the worthy continuator of two masters: one of the voice, the other of the road. Jean Eustache, as prodigious as he is when it comes to infinite monologues and who enjoyed saying: “The camera rolls, cinema makes itself.” And Monte Hellman who, at the end of Two-Lane Blacktop, set the film stock aflame after one last flying start. A film that unites the two, burning lips at the same time as the asphalt, is devoted to countdown, to combustion. Pure loss expenditure. You will notice that the longest gap happens at the end of a lapdance executed by Arlene/Butterfly for Mike, hence depriving us of its climax: the film stock rolls out pleasure, and a bit of pleasure goes up in smoke each time a photogram is missing. Like an abduction, and like a thorn in one’s desire for what will follow. Tarantino makes no secret of it, he runs on this projection. Indeed, in the interview, he does not explain Mike’s obsession otherwise: bumping into girls with his death proof car (as per the title) is his own way of reaching orgasm.”

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It shows how out of it I was in trying to be in it, acknowledging that I was out of it to myself, and then thinking, “Okay, how do I stop being out of it? Well, I get some legitimate illogical narrative ideas” — some novel, you know?

So I decided on three writers that I might be able to option their material and get some producer, or myself as producer, and then get some writer to do a screenplay on it, and maybe make a movie.

And so the three projects were “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep,” “Naked Lunch” and a collection of Bukowski. Which, in 1975, forget it — I mean, that was nuts. Hollywood would not touch any of that, but I was looking for something commercial, and I thought that all of these things were coming.

There would be no Blade Runner if there was no Ray Bradbury. I couldn’t find Philip K. Dick. His agent didn’t even know where he was. And so I gave up.

I was walking down the street and I ran into Bradbury — he directed a play that I was going to do as an actor, so we know each other, but he yelled “hi” — and I’d forgot who he was.

So at my girlfriend Barbara Hershey’s urging — I was with her at that moment — she said, “Talk to him! That guy really wants to talk to you,” and I said “No, fuck him,” and keep walking.

But then I did, and then I realized who it was, and I thought, “Wait, he’s in that realm, maybe he knows Philip K. Dick.” I said, “You know a guy named—” “Yeah, sure — you want his phone number?”

My friend paid my rent for a year while I wrote, because it turned out we couldn’t get a writer. My friends kept on me about, well, if you can’t get a writer, then you write.”
~ Hampton Fancher

“That was the most disappointing thing to me in how this thing was played. Is that I’m on the phone with you now, after all that’s been said, and the fundamental distinction between what James is dealing with in these other cases is not actually brought to the fore. The fundamental difference is that James Franco didn’t seek to use his position to have sex with anyone. There’s not a case of that. He wasn’t using his position or status to try to solicit a sexual favor from anyone. If he had — if that were what the accusation involved — the show would not have gone on. We would have folded up shop and we would have not completed the show. Because then it would have been the same as Harvey Weinstein, or Les Moonves, or any of these cases that are fundamental to this new paradigm. Did you not notice that? Why did you not notice that? Is that not something notable to say, journalistically? Because nobody could find the voice to say it. I’m not just being rhetorical. Why is it that you and the other critics, none of you could find the voice to say, “You know, it’s not this, it’s that”? Because — let me go on and speak further to this. If you go back to the L.A. Times piece, that’s what it lacked. That’s what they were not able to deliver. The one example in the five that involved an issue of a sexual act was between James and a woman he was dating, who he was not working with. There was no professional dynamic in any capacity.

~ David Simon