2.
Lost Souls
by Anthony Lane is poorly translated
The new David Cronenberg movie, “Maps to the Stars,” takes place in Los Angeles. Some of it was filmed there, too—the first occasion on which the director, who seldom roams beyond his own back yard of Canada, has shot a movie in the United States. One scene unfolds on Rodeo Drive, outside a clothing store where a character has just spent eighteen thousand dollars. The sight of Cronenberg and his crew setting up there, in broad daylight, must have seemed not merely unsettling but, to any Hollywood residents who were passing by, downright unhealthy. I'm surprised they didn't call the cops or, better yet, an epidemiologist. When the guy who made “Rabid” and “The Fly” turns up in town, there's no accounting for the damage he might see, or show, or do.
The story of David Cronenberg's new film "Star Map" took place in Los Angeles, and part of the filming was also completed in Los Angeles. As a director who almost never leaves his Canadian backyard, this is his first film made in the United States. One scene started outside a clothing store on Rodeo Drive, and an actor who participated in the filming just spent $18,000 in it. The scene set up by Cronenberg and his team in the early morning must seem unfurnished, but for the residents of Hollywood passing by, this scene is obviously strange. I was surprised that they didn't call the police or, better yet, a psychiatrist. When the person who filmed "Rabies" and "The Flies" appeared in the city, the damage he might see, exhibit, and cause would be immeasurable.
The woman with the fancy clothes is Havana Segrand (Julianne Moore), an actress who, if not washed up, is drifting in with the tide. She had a famous mother named Clarice Taggart (Sarah Gadon), also an actress, who died in a conflagration and now keeps appearing, youthful and uncharred, before Havana's eyes—in the bathtub, say, or on the massage table. This begs for therapy, which in Havana's case means stripping to her underwear and submitting to Stafford Weiss (John Cusack) , a shamanistic shrink who will rub away your painful memories as if they were spasms of lumbago. Havana's sex life comprises a desultory threesome and a quickie in the back seat of a car. What she truly desires is a new personal assistant—or “chore whore," to use her fragrant term. A contender arrives, in the shape of Agatha (Mia Wasikowska),who comes recommended by Carrie Fisher (“I met her on Twitter”). Agatha wears long black gloves, which conceal scars from a house fire. She gets the job.
The woman in fancy clothes is Havana Shegrande (Julian Moore), an actress. If she fails to take a bath, she will also put on clean clothes. She has a celebrity mother who is also an actor named Clarice Taggart (Sarah Garton), who died in a fire, but now she is in Havana’s bath or massage. Appeared before her eyes. She was still young when she appeared, and she had not been damaged by the fire. This requires treatment, and for Havana, it means stripping herself and submitting to Stafford Weiss (John Cusack), a shaman spiritual therapist who will act like a waist spasm. Eliminate your painful memories. Havana's sex life is full of messy 3Ps and car shocks. What she really desires is a new personal assistant—or "house prostitute" to use her aromatic term. A woman named Agatha (played by Mia Huaxikovos) got the position through the recommendation of Kelly Fisher ("I met her on Twitter"). She wore a black robe and covered it. Scars caused by fire.
All this lies within scorching distance of parody: an occupational hazard, as Nathanael West realized, for anyone facing up to Hollywood. Overkill comes with the territory. That is why “Sunset Boulevard” begins with a corpse, bobbing in a pool, and proceeds to an old dame who keeps a stuffed ape in a casket, and that is why Cronenberg introduces us to the delightful Benjie (Evan Bird), the star of the hit comedy “Bad Babysitter,” who is fresh out of rehab and calls his agent a “Jew faggot.” Benjie is thirteen. “Three hundred thousand a week—I was nine years old. How psychotic is that?” he says. Cronenberg-watchers will twitch with anticipation; he has always been drawn to the smell of psychosis , like a wasp to a picnic.
Everything exists in the parody of the fire distance: as Nathaniel West said, this is an occupational hazard that everyone in Hollywood needs to face. This land is accompanied by great Lethality. This is why the "Sunset Boulevard" story begins with a floating corpse in a lake, and progresses to an old woman who puts an orangutan that has eaten up in a coffin, and this is why Cronenberg allows us to see the happy Benjay ( Ivan Bird), a star in the popular comedy "Bad Nanny", he became popular again and called his agent "Jewish Gay". Benjie was 13 years old, and he said: "300,000 a week-when I was 9 years old, what kind of neuropathy was this!" People who follow Cronenberg trembled with anticipation, and he was often portrayed as carrying The taste of neurosis is like a wasp staring at a picnic.
The mood at the start is thick not with mystery, as in David Lynch's “Mulholland Drive,” but with exasperation, as we struggle to work out who is related—or helplessly clamped—to whom. Hence the recurring theme of incest, which is another kind of parody: the heinous contortion of romantic love. Agatha announces that her parents were brother and sister, and she herself is reunited, under intense conditions, with a long-lost sibling. As for Havana, she pitches aggressively for a role first by her late mother (who at one point appears naked in her bed). She loses the part and howls like Antigone, then gets it back—because her rival has suffered a death in the family—and skips around, chanting, like a little girl. Throughout this near-insanity, Cronenberg keeps his cool, to the brink of refrigeration. In terms of camera movements,he is the king of underkill. When Stafford, the self-help guru who cannot help himself, thumps a defenseless woman and slings her out of the house, we crawl stealthily in her wake, toward the open door.
The atmosphere at the beginning of the film is somber but not mysterious, just like David Lynch’s Mulholland Road, but when we try to clarify the connection between one person and another-or one person is helpless to another When the ground is attached, it becomes more annoying. Another kind of parody is about the reproduction of the theme of incest: a heinous misunderstanding of romantic love. Agatha claimed that her parents were brothers and sisters, and she herself was the result of the reunion of a pair of blood relatives who had been separated for many years under enthusiasm. For Havana, she strongly strived to play a role played by her deceased mother (there were scenes of being naked in bed). She gave up this part, howled like Antigone, she took this role (because someone in her opponent happened to die), and then she danced in circles and chanted like a little girl. Through this frenzy to the edge of freezing, Cronenberg kept his calm. In mobile shooting, he is the king of low-volume kills. When Stafford, the self-help religious teacher couldn’t help himself, he hit a woman who lacked resistance and threw her out of the house. We watched her waking up mercilessly and crawling towards the open door. .
Why, then, does “Maps to the Stars” fail to compel as it should? In part, I think, because Viggo Mortensen has spoiled us. His great performances for Cronenberg, in “A History of Violence” and “Eastern Promises,” reminded us that the director is at his strongest when he has a hero to haul us through whatever nightmare has been laid on. That was true of James Woods in “Videodrome” and Jeremy Irons in “Dead Ringers,” both of them masterly figures who seemed nonetheless at the mercy of instinctual drives, whereas someone like Havana is less well poised; she is the dupe of her foolish appetites, and that's that. Moore holds nothing back, and the result makes a splendidly noisy companion piece to her Oscar-winning turn in “Still Alice,” but Havana, on her own, can't hold the story together. I wanted more both of Cusack, who is genuinely frightening,with his heavy tread, his black garb, and his clown-white face, and of Robert Pattinson, who plays a chauffeur named Jerome Fontana—a downgrade from his leading role in Cronenberg's “Cosmopolis,” where he lounged in the back of a limo . Why not have Jerome, a ready-jaded hopeful, steer us into Hollywood's dark vales?
Having said that, why hasn't "Star Atlas" achieved its due effect? On the one hand, I think, because Vigo Mortensen spoiled us. His great performances in Cronenberg's "History of Violence" and "The Crisis of the Tower" remind us that this director is the strongest when he has a hero to help out any nightmare he places. The same is true for James Wood in "Videotape Murder" and Jeremy Irons in "Negligence". These two superbly performed people who seem to be driven by a compassionate impulse, but Havana is like this. The actor did not capture the character traits well, she was deceived by her stupid hobby, and that was just that. Moore didn't make any reservations, and the result was a very noisy comparison compared to her performance in her work "Still Alice". Havana can't control the story together. I want to get more from Cusack and Robert Pattinson, the former created real fear through his heavy steps, black clothes and clown makeup, and the latter from when he starred in Cronenberg’s "Metropolis" Lying lazily in the back seat of a limousine, he condescends to play a driver in this film. Why didn't Jerome (Robert Pattinson), a man who is completely tired of "hopeful", lead us into the dark valley of Hollywood?
There is another issue here. According to Cronenberg, the script for “Maps to the Stars,” by Bruce Wagner, began life more than twenty years ago, and it shows. When Jerome says to Agatha that he's thinking of converting to Scientology, “ just as a career move," it's a nice line, but it's also a reboot of a joke in Robert Altman's "The Player," where a studio executive goes to AA not because he has a drink problem but because "that's where all the deals are being made these days." Doubtless, Wagner's work has been through many morphings and refinements, yet there remains a nagging sense that the finished film lags behind the times. The truth is that, in 2015, Havana would be lucky to play a second -string intergalactic queen for Marvel, and Benjie's agent would already be positioning him as the Spider-Man of 2020.
There is another controversy. Cronenberg said that in the "Star Map" script written by Bruce Wagner, the story happened more than 20 years ago, and he did the same for the filming. When Jerome told Agatha that he planned to transfer to Scientology, "it was like a career advancement." This is a good route, but it is also a recurrence of a joke in Robert Altman's "The Player". There is an executive producer in "The Player" who plans to AA, not because he can't drink, but because "a lot of transactions happen here every day these days." Undoubtedly, Wagner's work has undergone many changes and refinements, so there is still some annoying feeling that the film is behind real time. In fact, in 2015, Havana had been lucky enough to be the alternate actor of the Star Queen in "Marvel", and Benjay's agent had asked him to play "Spider-Man" in 2020.
As a portrait of the movie industry, “Maps to the Stars” pales beside the fire of a film like Robert Aldrich's “The Big Knife,” from sixty years ago, which had everything: a Clifford Odets screenplay you could sear yourself on, Jack Palance in his tortured prime, and, as the studio boss, Rod Steiger, with his silk-soft croon and a startling thatch of bright hair. (So that's where Javier Bardem sprang from in “Skyfall.”) Cronenberg, bereft of Aldrich's will to attack, is more surgeon than satirist. We go to his work not for digs and jibes but for steady incisions into the ills of the flesh, or the pains of the spirit, and “Maps to the Stars” is at its most potent and beautiful by far when it becomes a ghost story—when the departed, not just Havana's mother, return to quiz the living. That makes an ideal twist for Hollywood,a place both besotted with and dismissive of its past. More important, these spectral scenes suggest new ground for Cronenberg. He went there, fleetingly, in “The Dead Zone.” Time for another visit.
As a description of the film industry, "Star Map" is slightly inferior to Robert Aldridge's film "Broad Knife" 60 years ago, which contains all the content: Clifford Oddsna can make you The burning script, Jack Palance’s most tortured heyday, and Rod Steiger as the owner of the studio, his silky soft chanting and his amazing tousled hair (this It is also the object of Javier Baden's imitated in "007: The Great Destruction"). Cronenberg stripped Aldridge's purpose to attack, more like a surgeon than a satirist. We appreciate his works more from the removal of the lesion or the perception of mental pain, rather than excavation and satire. So far, as a ghost story, "Star Map" is powerful and beautiful-when the dead, not just Havana's mother, try to return to life in the world. This is a distortion of Hollywood's idealization. Here is a place that contains both intoxication and contempt for the past. More importantly, these ghostly scenes hint at another Glamberg movie. He walked there quickly, it was "Dead Zone," and it was time for another visitor.
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