Honeybaked for the Holidays
Dreamscape (1984)
directed by Joseph Ruben
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
on DVD from Netflix
Internal government conspiracies are great fictional fodder because we have so little control over real government decisions that affect our lives. The reasons for that are mundane and disappointing - Republicans want more money and most high-ranking Democrats are political moderates, at best - so the happier thing to do is imagine a top-secret compound where telepaths are trained to learn state secrets and kill world leaders in their sleep. Same day-to-day results but three times (at least) the fun.
Dreamscape belongs on the shelf of anyone who wants to make a movie about the subconscious, along with late season Sopranos, The Night of the Hunter, and everything directed by David Lynch. Dreamscape isn't nearly as good, but it's a brother-in-arms from a visual effects perspective. Rear projection is a must, I think (I'm brainstorming out loud here), and so is the idea that the dreamer recognizes at least 90% of the players and scenes in the dream. The uncanny creeps in bit by bit (maybe the color of someone's eyes) - and again, Dreamscape forgoes subtlety in favor of David Patrick Kelly screaming maniacally in a nuclear wasteland - but nightmares ought to look a lot like a nap gone wrong.
To pass the time in his waking hours, numero uno telepath Dennis Quaid walks around Los Angeles and races his dirt bike on the Los Alamitos Race Track. Christopher Plummer and Max von Sydow - top-level conspiracy insiders - pass out hams on every doorstep, reminding the audience with each precisely articulated outrage that they know that we know that summer homes don't pay for themselves. And who can blame them? Movies are summer homes for the rest of us - oceanfront estates with a view of the mountains; the desert; the city; the future and the past.
directed by Joseph Ruben
rating: 3 out of 5 cravats
on DVD from Netflix
Internal government conspiracies are great fictional fodder because we have so little control over real government decisions that affect our lives. The reasons for that are mundane and disappointing - Republicans want more money and most high-ranking Democrats are political moderates, at best - so the happier thing to do is imagine a top-secret compound where telepaths are trained to learn state secrets and kill world leaders in their sleep. Same day-to-day results but three times (at least) the fun.
Dreamscape belongs on the shelf of anyone who wants to make a movie about the subconscious, along with late season Sopranos, The Night of the Hunter, and everything directed by David Lynch. Dreamscape isn't nearly as good, but it's a brother-in-arms from a visual effects perspective. Rear projection is a must, I think (I'm brainstorming out loud here), and so is the idea that the dreamer recognizes at least 90% of the players and scenes in the dream. The uncanny creeps in bit by bit (maybe the color of someone's eyes) - and again, Dreamscape forgoes subtlety in favor of David Patrick Kelly screaming maniacally in a nuclear wasteland - but nightmares ought to look a lot like a nap gone wrong.
To pass the time in his waking hours, numero uno telepath Dennis Quaid walks around Los Angeles and races his dirt bike on the Los Alamitos Race Track. Christopher Plummer and Max von Sydow - top-level conspiracy insiders - pass out hams on every doorstep, reminding the audience with each precisely articulated outrage that they know that we know that summer homes don't pay for themselves. And who can blame them? Movies are summer homes for the rest of us - oceanfront estates with a view of the mountains; the desert; the city; the future and the past.
posted by NPK at 12:14 PM
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