Starfish (2018) Film Thoughts

There have been many times in recent years where a friend sees a piece of work, only to point it in my direction because of their impressions of my personal tastes. It’s one of those occasionally bumpy phenomenons where your expressions of interest engrave themselves upon others. It’s a fascinating opportunity for us to better understand the ways we perceive one another. So when an old pal recommended rookie filmmaker, A.T. White’s wildly original STARFISH, I went in with a combination of warmth, and trepidation. And now that I’ve come to the other side of the piece, it can readily be said that I’m happily still processing White’s singular accomplishment here. STARFISH, is a stirringly gorgeous and often confounding voyage through some truly personal wreckage. Like the terrific indie music that wallpapers the film, it is a colorful and strange analog exploration through some clearly difficult human vulnerability.

In the wake of the loss of her closest friend, Aubrey(Virginia Gardner of The Runaways) walks away from a post-funeral gathering, only to walk across her small Colorado-esque community where she breaks into said friend’s apartment where she decides to stay. That is until come morning, she awakens to see her entire mountain town covered in snow, bereft of humans, surrounded by deadly creatures all while seeking ways to stay alive on her own. As for what happened since she slept, the best clues she gets comes in the form of a radio transmission where a male voice informs her of a signal that caused the planet to snow over, ushering in these vicious looking beasts stalking the streets. Following enough clues seemingly left behind by her deceased friend, Grace who seemingly left personal messages for Aubrey via a cassette tape labeled, “THIS MIXTAPE WILL SAVE THE WORLD”, comes to the realization that by seeking out seven separate recordings, a completed signal could be amplified, thereby hopefully reversing this apocalypse. That is, if her feelings are correct.

And the further we explore Aubrey’s endlessly isolated journey, we are granted clues that this film is in no real way any science fiction horror film, but rather a hallucinatory vision of disassociation. Everything we are witnessing from the film’s fetishistic love for analog and pre-digital tech to the IT FOLLOWS-esque erasing of particular time period, helps paint White’s vision as purely internal space. Aubrey’s story seems to have stemmed from the kind of very real place that most films tend to merely simulate, which is what makes STARFISH such an unusual clear translation from script to screen. The indie cinema of today, is often the mid-tier programming of the large studio past. And yet this never feels less than millimeters from someone’s truth. Which is further punctuated by the use of numerous experimental effects, editing, music tinkering, and even animation (by Tezuka Pro no less!)

And even as Aubrey’s truth that she vehemently attempts to avoid on her adventure, it is via the handful of short exchanges she has with either herself, the voice on the other end of the radio, or her friend’s pet turtle, this is where her fight to continue avoiding the world or rejoin unfolds in ways unexpected, and refuses to hand over revelations in easy to grasp bites. As personal as the film is set up, it is equally so come the striking denouement where her mission may or may not have doomed everyone. It’s a pretty bold way to climax such an effects heavy piece that impresses me the longer I think about it.

And despite all the incredible audio visual on display here, the real special effect here is in the performance of Gardner, who gives Aubrey a quiet richness that delivers what it is to never properly say goodbye, or to right past wrongs. And since the film is largely dialogue free, it all has to be done with her eyes which must have been a welcome challenge. Even as she opts to finally leave the confines of the apartment and into the dangerous, snowy streets, her mission to recollect herself by way of shared memories is conveyed with significant weight. The movie lives or dies with a role like this, and she comes out the other end leaving a startling impression.

And cheers to White and his crew for giving us a film that successfully gives us a sense of place with every stop Aubrey makes. There is a dedication to the tactile that is consistently potent throughout that supports the larger concepts of memory, guilt, and grief. Everything on screen feels like we’ve touched these places and objects before. As psychological as this space is, these are real feelings, and we’re being invited to share in them. If anything, we are made witness to cinematic voices we are guaranteed to see again. And I for one am thrilled at the prospect.

She's Gone Away: Twin Peaks The Return Part 8, Dives Into Deepest Lynch For Revelation

"This is the water. And this is the well; Drink full, and descend. The horse is the white of the eyes, and dark within."

-The Woodsman

And descend, do we all. Social media echoed sentiment by many involved with the series that Part 8, would present to us something we've yet to experience. This in no way, was an exaggeration. Uncompromising to the end, this long form extension of a series known for flirting with the outright uncanny and frightening has opted to go full dark dream, offering little relief throughout most of its hour running time. A segment centered largely on the dark forces that have been floating about the larger story all this time, starting with the ride between Evil Cooper, and his erstwhile accomplice, Ray (George Griffith). A drawn out drive into the middle of nowhere leads to an altercation that reveals a little more about BobCoop, as well as ushers in the return of the soot covered men we've had hints of over the last several episodes. These foreboding creatures are seen in one moment dancing jubilantly, only to have them descend into what resembles a bloody mangling, which features the appearance of none other than Bob himself. The first ten minutes of this segment alone offers us little but the promise that we are at last going to have a greater taste of these otherwordly beings.

Then Lynch lets us have it.

In one of the most eloquently personal, and utterly baffling hours of television since that final thirty minutes of the original. So without going into too much detail that is better experienced than written about, here is where I currently am with it.

This, along with Cooper's journey between worlds in episode 3, feel very much like two major components of why this series not only exists, but what made the doubling of episodes something worth celebrating. Not only are we at last back in the ultimate sandbox of early Lynch, we are also in a sense living up to the visual text that the entire series has been binding together with all of his previous film, and art work. His choices here intimate that whether it be a painting, an installation, a music piece, stage show, or television series, that they are part of a whole. An examination of both his middle american childhood in the 1950s, but his own concerns about what led to his own incarnations of overt light and dark. The realms we explore in the wake of the atomic bombing tests in White Sands, is explored as origin point. That within that particular deal with unknowable evil, America's fate was sealed beyond any injustice that one culture has perpetrated on others for generations. It was an act of scientific checkmating that allowed for the proliferation of seeds that have now spread toward every corner of the nation. 

Most impressive, are the visions of within a mushroom cloud, visualizing the deployment of Bob into the world, further examining the denizens of the ocean tower we has seen Cooper escape before, natural elements erupting within and without a rural gas station. And perhaps even the birth of Laura's goodness into Earth as some form of counter against encroaching darkness. However, the pervasive evil somehow caught wind of such power, and sought it wherever possible in order to claim it. (Not unlike how Leland himself was claimed as a young man.) And as abstract as this all is, again such care for the emotional texture of the entire hour, carrying with it the sense that this has been the kind of work the director hadn't been able to indulge in for well over twenty years due to studios and cold feet, and perhaps a need of some soul searching. We haven't seen sets, costume design, color grade, and homebrew effects work of this caliber since perhaps even the ill-fated, DUNE. There is even a great amount more ERASERHEAD and The Elephant Man, in here for measure. And while not laser direct about it, the reverberations are there without sense of irony or humor. We are at the nucleus of the trouble in Twin Peaks, and it is both alluring and deeply terrifying. 

This is advanced level, hard left Peaks that opts for pure cinema. I can't think of any television event this willing to go here. This begs to be on a large theatrical screen with the soundtrack blaring.

Oh, and having Nine Inch Nails stop by was pretty rad too..