The Manson murders changed things. It was 1969 and things seemed stable, history was progressing according to some schedule everyone had set out in their minds, counterculture had started to burn its way out to the fringes of everyone’s day to day experience.
There’s this thing that happens late in this movie, after our lead has been quite thoroughly broken down, where he’s sitting on a bed trying to come to terms with his situation.
I’ve lost count of the amount of times that I’ve said it, ‘I can be saved.’ I hope it’s human nature, why so many of us turn to religion, that need to be redeemed.
I have self destructive impulses. I know that every day being a step towards death doesn’t mean I should choose to hurtle myself down that path with all the intensity I can muster, but living any other way doesn’t make sense to me.
The opening shots make it clear, here’s a film where the constant, predictable actions of a computer have superseded reality. The digital, with it’s rules and frameworks, the fact that everything has to be somewhere and commanded and traceable makes it a damn sight more real than the mess that we live in.
Studying acting at university I had this friend who was one of the most committed physical performers I’ve ever seen. It was incredible, but also made him a terrible actor because you could see every ounce of effort that he was putting in.
I didn’t get the chance to interview Peter Strickland, but after a recent pre-release screening of In Fabric I was able to ask him what influenced the film’s sound design aesthetic. ‘Well,’ he answered, ‘I’d been watching a lot of those Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response videos — I think they call them ASMR — and really wanted to make one of my own.’
We’ve all seen the images. The big ones this film puts onscreen, even some of the ones it kinda deliberately tries to edit around in favour of different angles on the same material. Which is kinda wild by the way, they’re on the fucking moon and they set up multiple angles.
I’ve spent the past half hour trying to work myself down into a mood in which i feel I can write this. Miami Vice might just be too Mann for me.
I guess the ultimate irony of that title is throughout the whole of this movie the guys that we spend so much time staring at don’t actually do any good work at all.