Crash; Lost Highway; Synthetic Pleasures

In Canadian author Mark Kingwell's fascinating new book, Dreams of Millennium: Report From a Culture on the Brink (Faber and Faber, 1996), he writes of "an anxious culture...its obsessions and dark patches, but also...its prospects and strangely deep pleasures." Psychic fairs, body piercing, Net addiction, conspiracy theories, Kingwell finds that we're fairly wallowing in the weird and sometimes wonderful. Not surprisingly, the latest films from two elder statesmen of dark and disturbing cinema--David Cronenberg and David Lynch--tap into the millennial anxiety datastream with their own peculiar visions. What is surprising is Iara Lee's documentary Synthetic Pleasures, which not only leaves both of the boys in the dust--in terms of weird--but also proves (once again) that truth is stranger than fiction. David Cronenberg's Crash, based on the 1973 J. G. Ballard cult novel, brings new meaning to the word "auto-erotic." Winner of a Special Jury Prize at Cannes, this "controversial" NC-17 rated fetish-driven, soft-core porn fable stars James Spader and Deborah Unger as James and Catherine Ballard, a sexually dysfunctional couple who sleep with strangers and then discuss their experiences (while having sex, of course). Barely soap-opera worthy, I know, but after Ballard (Spader) crashes into Dr. Helen Remington's (Holly Hunter) car, killing her husband in the process, Cronenberg turns up the kink factor considerably. What we would consider a tragedy is apparently an aphrodisiac for these crash test dummies, and Dr. Helen introduces James to a whole group of People Who Are Sexually Stimulated By Car Crashes. From that point on, Spader, Unger, Hunter, Elias Koteas, and Rosanna Arquette cruise in and out of the film, grabbing each other by the crotch as a way of formal greeting, going into heat near cars (especially fender benders), and talking in lobotomized voices that sound like the robot on Lost in Space (only with less emotion). Crash isn't a movie; it's a cast group-grope that goes on way too long. Not recommended. "I like to remember things my own way, not necessarily the way they happened," says Bill Pullman's character in David Lynch's latest opus Lost Highway, a film so badly maligned that it actually garnered "two thumbs down" from the ordinarily very charitable Siskel & Ebert. Lynch has decidedly taken a page out of the Frank "I did it my way" Sinatra school of filmmaking here, combining two stories that are supposed to come together, but don't because of irreconcilable differences in the viewer's mind. Moving at a moped's pace, Lost Highway's first story follows the suspicions of a jazz musician (Pullman), who thinks his wife (Patricia Arquette) is having an affair; once she's murdered the question becomes moot (or mute) and Pullman is jailed as the suspected murderer. Ok, now follow me closely here: while in jail, Pullman turns into Balthazar Getty, which kicks off story numero-two-o, in which Getty becomes romantically entwined with a mobster's moll (who is...drum roll please...Patricia Arquette). And so on (there are more absurdities, trust me). Lost Highway is David Lynch at the absolute nadir of his career, a lost boy who's lost the power to either shock or entertain. Not recommended. Iara Lee's Synthetic Pleasures, is, by contrast, far weirder than anything Cronenberg or Lynch serve up. Viewers will travel to Japan's Ocean Dome, a gigantic man-made indoor ocean/beach, replete with artificial sun and mechanically-created waves; meet Arlan, a performance artist whose artificial facial implants are creating a physiognomy previously unseen in the human race; and see a cyber-wedding, where the bride and groom are seen in virtual reality representations. Interviewees Howard Rheingold, Jaron Lanier, and the late Timothy Leary, among others offer intelligent discourse on a wide range of topics, from technology's penchant for recreating Paradise as a pristine, clean environment (such as the Ocean Dome) to whether or not technology can replace sex: one interviewee smartly asks "how do you replace a kiss?" Body piercing, cryogenics, mind-enhancing drugs, and a robot that actually cleans toilets (finally a useful instance of technology!), these are but a few of Synthetic Pleasures concerns. Recommended. And, far be it from me to start any kind of conspiracy theory here, but I would like to submit for your consideration the following: Crash and Lost Highway are, arguably, the two worst films of the year; each stars one of the Arquette sisters. I'll say no more. (R. Pitman) [DVD Review—Apr. 1, 2008—Universal, 145 min., R, $19.98—Making its first appearance on DVD, 1997's Lost Highway sports a good transfer but no DVD extras. Bottom line: for many, Lost Highway marked a wrong turn for Lynch's directing career, but the faithful will definitely be happy to see this overlong curio on DVD, even if is—unfortunately—a bare-bones release.] [Blu-ray Review—July 2, 2019—Kino Lorber, 134 min., R, Blu-ray: $29.99—Making its debut on Blu-ray, 1997’s Lost Highway features a great transfer and a DTS-HD 5.1 soundtrack on Blu-ray, but no extras. Bottom line: one of Lynch’s worst films arrives on Blu-ray.]