Posts Tagged ‘drugs’


Under the credits, a man and a woman wander through a museum in Vienna, comporting themselves like lovers. We get close-up views of luscious romantic Klimt paintings and then – a Schiele canvas, in which a man desperately holds onto a woman who looks very much like she wants to get away.

He is American research psychologist Alex Linden (Art Garfunkel) and she’s an American too, Milena Flaherty (Theresa Russell), who comes and goes across Austria’s border and has a husband over there in Czechoslovakia. Russell is beyond superb. While directing the movie, Nicholas Roeg fell in love with her, and you can sorta tell from the way the whole thing is a showcase to display her. She deserves it. (They got married, had a couple of kids, and divorced.) Her eyes seem to change color in different scenes – there’s one in particular where they are the palest icy blue, yet seem a minute later to be dark.

The first question you have to ask about Milena is, what does she live on? When she moves, she only takes along one small bag. Yet she has fabulous clothes and an apartment full of stuff. Is she a trust fund baby, or does she hold onto the Czech husband because he’s rich, or what? There’s no indication of her ever doing any kind of work. She can get away with being drunk, having irresponsible, impulsive adventures, and so forth. Her source of income isn’t relevant to the plot, but geez.

Along with his research and teaching, Alex Linden does occasional jobs for the US intelligence services. For instance, a spook hands him two files, and tells him to find out if either of the subjects “sniffs cocaine or plays with little girls or boys.” Linden, who should know better, is a poor security risk. He brings files home. He brings home a file on Milena’s husband, which includes her photo and biographical information.

We learn the story of Milena and Linden in flashbacks. In fact there’s probably more cutting back and forth in time than in any movie ever made. It’s pretty disorienting. So go ahead and watch it twice.

In the present, an ambulance takes the overdosed Milena to the hospital. Inspector Netusil (Harvey Keitel) extracts the story from Linden. Milena had called him up and said “I’ll be dead in a minute, I wanted to say goodbye” and of course he went right over. It was no big deal, she’d overdosed before. Linden paints her as a wild woman who denies herself nothing, a woman to whom something dreadful was bound to happen sooner or later.

But the inspector sees a few discrepancies. Linden says he talked on the phone with Milena long after she would have already been comatose. And his car radio is tuned to a station that doesn’t start broadcasting until midnight. And so on. In other words, Netusil suspects exactly what happened. Far from rushing to Milena’s side and summoning help immediately, Linden waited to make sure she would die, and “ravished” her in the meantime.

We see how it went down. When Linden first arrived, Milena was still semi-coherent. Collapsed on the floor, with almost no motor skills left, she managed to get the telephone. Linden pulled the jack from the wall and replaced it later, after it was too late. Looking around the apartment, Netusil somehow intuits all of this. He even seems to have psychic visions that tell him what happened.

Linden puts Milena on her bed, saying “We don’t need anybody else. Just you and me.” While waiting for her to die, “It’s better this way, believe me, there was no other way.” After pacing around for a while, he cuts her clothes off and rapes her inert body, saying “I love you.”

At the beginning of their affair, Milena had pursued Alex, who hung back at first. We see them in happier times. He reads to her from the poetry of William Blake, the verse

What is it men in women do require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire.
What is it women do in men require?
The lineaments of Gratified Desire. *

A scene where Milena’s in bed with her husband implies that she isn’t getting sexual satisfaction from him, although that’s not the only reason she goes out in search of adventure. He’s 30 years older, for one thing. Once when Milena goes missing for a week, Linden calls her husband, who is bored, dismissive, and contemptuous of this weak American, who can’t muster the necessary intestinal fortitude to deal with such a woman. The husband tells Linden that a man has to love Milena even more than his own dignity. And, as Linden learns, more than he loves being told the truth. She persists in lying about her marital status, and Linden crosses over to Czechoslovakia and bothers some hostile bureaucrats to try and find out if she’s divorced or what.

Linden wants Milena to move in with him, he wants her to return to the States with him and marry him. We sit in on one of his lectures, where he speaks to the students about how we are all spies. He knows all about this, because he spies on Milena a lot, and suffers terribly from jealousy, while she relates to a lot of different men.

But that’s not all. She does heedless things, like burn his car’s upholstery with a cigarette. She can be an embarrassing drunk. In one horrendous scene she’s invited him over. Her place cleaned up as if by the world’s most dedicated housewife, and she’s wearing some kind of mock-sexy outfit and enough makeup to turn her from a flashy woman into a grotesque clown. She’s changed herself into what he seems to want her to be. He leaves, and from the balcony she hurls bottles into the street, yelling at him so the whole neighborhood is disturbed.

Soon their discourse is reduced to “What?” and “Why?” as brilliantly encapsulated in one scene. He wants to possess Milena, who can’t be possessed. “You don’t own me. I don’t own you,” she says. She enumerates some of her priorities – to get up when she wants to get up, and eat when she wants to eat, and not to be with people she doesn’t like. (These are core values I recognize, and I don’t think a person who holds them is necessarily a monster of selfishness.) They have a terrible argument on the stairs and she declares, “I just want to be allowed to give where I can – what I can – to who I can.” What she most likes to give, and there’s nothing wrong with this, either, are the Lineaments of Gratified Desire.

There’s a lot of cross-cutting to emphasize the twinship of sex and death. From Milena’s orgasm to her convulsions on the emergency room operating table. From the couple having sex, to the doctor spreading her legs and going in with a speculum to look for rape evidence. From Milena’s head hanging over the edge of the bed during sex, to the doctors doing the tracheotomy.

With unflagging persistence, the inspector interrogates Linden. He’s fully tuned in to the atmosphere of claustrophobic obsession and sexual pessimism reminiscent of certain Leonard Cohen lyrics. The intuitive genius detective is the role Harvey Keitel was born for, and this isn’t the first time he’s filled it, or the last. Anyway, he’s just about gotten Linden to confess when Milena’s husband appears at the door. More bad timing. She’s alive, and will recover.

I like how the art references in the film hang together. For instance, we see Milena reading The Sheltering Sky, and later we see her with Linden on vacation in Morocco, which apparently was their last happy time. This is where he made the mistake of talking about marriage, which left her completely unimpressed. As he waits for her to die, he plays a record of Moroccan music instantly recognizable as the Master Musicians of Jajouka. Which is ironic, because this is supposed to be healing music. Maybe that’s why Milena survives the drug-induced coma. You’d think the professor would be smart enough not to play the wrong kind of music to die by.

So Linden gets away with attempted murder, and loses Milena of course. There’s a flash-forward to a future scene, when they’re both back in their own country. She gets out of a cab, he gets into a cab. He had asked her to return to the States with him, as his wife. Instead, their only meeting is accidental and brief, and she looks at him with hatred.

*These lines, incidentally also figure in Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet, where the characters initials (like the author’s) are LGD (for Lineaments of Gratified Desire, of course.)

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Trainspotting (1996)


Various ads say, “The best reviewed movie of the year,” “A great film,” “Massively entertaining,” and – best of all – “Hilarious.”

Oh, right. This thing has all the humor of a syphilitic chancre. A massively depressing opus about people with empty worthless lives, who don’t even have the honor that is, according to legend, supposedly found among thieves. Users of other people, one and all, including the psychotic guy whose only answer to anything is to pull out a knife.

Starts with a whole bunch of rhetoric from the protagonist in voice-over, about how stupid modern life is, and that’s why the only possible answer is heroin. By the end, he’s not even faithful to his own principles, but sells out to take part in that same horridly worthless life that was his rationale for staying stoned. There’s not an attractive character in the bunch except perhaps the precocious schoolgirl he fucks. A lot of nowhere people without a single value amongst them. Some ranting about being oppressed by England, and how the only possible response to it is to be a thieving junkie. Shit. This movie sucks.

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Maya Deren in At Land

Maya Deren in At Land

Initially, Deren starred in her own films with Sasha Hammid as cinematographer. Although James Agee found Deren’s acting “solemnly, arrogantly, distressingly pretentious and arty,” the majority of critics disagree. At any rate, the director soon reached the limits imposed by the one-actor film. In her opinion, professional actors were devoid of personality. For this reason and also to suit her nonexistent budget, the later films used amateur actors recruited from the ranks of her acquaintances. She would phone friends to demand their presence in Central Park, Skid Row, or Yonkers at seven o’clock the next morning, promising to pay the taxi fares with money they both knew she didn’t have.

The making of Ritual in Transfigured Time was a grueling ordeal for the impromptu cast. Deren kept a large crowd under the lights for twelve hours, simulating a party scene, until many were exhausted and on the verge of hysteria. After all this effort, Anais Nin was shocked at the result, which she found grotesque, meaningless, alienating, and an artistic failure. She blamed “Maya’s ruthlessness with people” for rendering her vision cruel and distorted. Gore Vidal, also a cast member, says the bottom line is that “Maya made Anais look old.” To the protests of all her disappointed friends, Deren’s reply was, “That is why I made you sign a release. You will get over it.”

Another incident described by Nin also served to turn former supporters against their director. Volunteer actor Frank Westbrook was a professional ballet dancer. Deren insisted on footage of him performing dangerous leaps among the rocks of Central Park, which could have led to a broken leg and the ruin of his entire career. Nin and the others encouraged Westbrook to refuse, but Deren’s iron will, and the threat of cutting him out of the film, prevailed, and the rebellion was quashed.

Besides, she did some pretty dangerous stuff herself, like hanging backwards out a window over stone steps. Nin also recalled an old memory, from before she and Deren had met. Strolling on the beach at Amagansett, Nin had seen “two men, one filming a woman who repeatedly went out in the waves and got washed in.” This of course was Deren, in search of the perfect shot. She didn’t ask others to do more than she would do herself.

But it wasn’t all whips and chains. Toward the end of 1945, Nin wrote,

Maya has stopped working on her film, temporarily. We all live on pins and needles for fear of catastrophe, a quarrel or anything else that will spoil it….We all live breathlessly, hoping she will find someone to pacify her so that filming may go on. We may have to draw lots: Now you, Number Nine, go to Maya and make love to her and make her happy, for the sake of the film.

Nin was fascinated by Deren’s wild gypsy look and her “need to seduce everyone.” Whether these references to seduction and lovemaking are meant literally or metaphorically is not clear. Deren has certainly become an icon among the lesbian creative community, despite being straight. In At Land (1944) she caresses two women, but the purpose is to put them off guard so she can steal something. Make of that what you will.

No stranger to temper tantrums, Deren is reported by a reliable witness (Stan Brakhage) to have once thrown a full-size refrigerator across a kitchen. Her friends never tired of discussing her tyrannical, obstinate, manipulative and inhuman ways. They asked themselves, and each other, why they sacrificed themselves to her relentless will, but they did it anyway. Their belief in her work outweighed the aggro, and they honored art-world custom by hosting screening parties and inviting their influential contacts.

She imposed her will on the viewers of her films, going up against the prevailing climate of preference for white people. The focus of A Study in Choreography for Camera (1945) was Talley Beatty, a black dancer and choreographer who studied with Katherine Dunham and Martha Graham. Meditation on Violence featured the Wu-tang and Shaolin styles of boxing as performed by Chao-Li Chi (who had really strange eyes). Deren really hit her stride when she went to Haiti to study and document voudoun .

How much of Maya Deren’s personality was intrinsic, and how much resulted from being a speed freak? This is not known, but she died at the shocking age of 44 from a brain hemorrhage supposedly brought on by amphetamines and malnutrition. Her ashes were scattered in Japan at Mount Fuji.

Photo courtesy of Nova deViator via this Creative Commons license

The Meaning of Maya Deren
Maya Deren: What, How, Why

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