Film Muse: Mysterious Skin

"The summer I was eight years old, five hours disappeared from my life. Five hours, lost, gone without a trace..."

- Brian Lackey

I'm not sure how to begin writing a Film Muse for Mysterious Skin. It's wintry, crude, passionate, powerful, and extremely honest. But in a way it is almost indescribable. If I would say anything I'd say that this film was really needed. To this day I still haven't seen a film that comes close to this subject matter.  I don't think I would have treated movies the way I do now if I didn't experience this film.

Directed by Gregg Araki and adapted into a screenplay based on Scott Heim's 1996 novel of the same name, Mysterious Skin debuted in 2004. The film stars some of my favorite actors to this date: Brady Corbet, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Michelle Trachtenberg, Elisabeth Shue, and Jeffrey Licon. 

The story is about two boys who have to cross paths in order to find out the truth of what happened one night 10 years ago. Brian, a shy and perhaps emotionally stunted young man spends his evenings watching UFO shows much to his mother's dismay.  He obsesses over this idea that we was abducted by aliens as a child, which would explain his blackout memories and strange nosebleeds. Neil on the other hand, a cold yet evocative teen, trades tricks for pleasures in the next town over. Brian determinedly sets out on a journey to find Neil who he remembers from his abduction dreams. As the viewer slides into the dismal ambience of the character's stories, it becomes clearer that this isn't a sci-fi film - but something much darker. 

When I saw Mysterious Skin for the first time I felt like I was going to throw up. No gore or cheap tricks were used and maybe that was the most haunting factor of all. Instead, Araki chose to show the underbelly of suburban childhoods - the dysfunctional and presumably normal ones. He shows the missed moments that shape us all as human beings. 

 As disturbing as the film was I couldn't help but feel this mass amount of appreciation for it. It was like this huge catharsis washed over me the first time I saw it. There isn't any other film that I've connected with that truly speaks for those who's stories are forgotten and repressed. Mysterious Skin vocalizes these perspectives  in such a delicate way.  It touches on the moments as a child when you want to scream but feel too paralized to do so. It heightens the confusion, the yearning for others' attention as a child and how it translates into adulthood. The pure innocence of it all. 

 I had to revisit this film after I saw White Bird in A Blizzard (2014) directed by Gregg Araki in theaters. As some Curbside Fashion readers may already know, I wasn't a fan of the movie at all. Yet after much consideration I decided to go back and study Araki's movies to rediscover why I loved his work so much. I guess it was a coping technique or something. I thought maybe then I could see why I didn't connect with his newest film, to just have some piece of mind and to pay homage to those moments when I first fell in love with his work. 

What I didn't realize was the similar soundtracks used in both films which instantly tied all of Araki's concepts together. Robin Guthrie (Cocteau Twins) and Harold Budd compile these short melancholic songs that are dismal yet slightly understanding. The heavy synth blends all of the emotions together, creating this ghost world of memories. The heavy bass lines ground the listener to each of its characters. It is unbelievably authentic and earnest. 

The moody (for lack of a better word) soundtrack lays down the track for the emotional scenarios that ensue.  Aside from the two main characters' plot lines, I couldn't help be attracted to their mothers' stories as well.

What is most disturbing for some is the lack of familial control. After all, it's parents' duty to protect their children from the monstrosities of the world and in particular we often see young mothers picking up the slack. Some single mothers like Brian's morph into cookie cutter types - donning teddybear sweaters and offering nighttime glasses of milk. Those mothers seem like they manage, but clearly there is a disconnect between Brian's mom and her son.

Other mothers can't deprive themselves like that, hoping that perhaps there is a silver lining to their circumstances. Neil's mother smothers him with kisses over Spaghetti-Os and gets Dairy Queen with his friends while he is away. She dances and sips on soda, wears red dresses. Although more seemingly unaware than Brian's mother, she is just as committed to loving her son as Brian's is. 

In an interview I saw a long time ago, Araki mentioned these two mothers and how we framed them. It's almost as if the idea of blaming the mothers for what happened to the two boys was completely out of the picture. Araki painted it like they were doing the best they could have done, so it seemed. There is no negative blame cast upon them, instead just pure trauma and pathos. 

I really happened to like Michelle Trachtenburg's character Wendy, too. The way she looks out for her friends (and also herself) shows this grander understanding of relationships.  She loves Neil so much yet knows that she can't do much about his behavior. It is almost painful watching their friendship and its borderline abuse. Wendy is the only character that leaves their town, but she doesn't leave the trauma. You can tell it will always stay with her. She is sort of an old soul in that way.

Gordon-Levitt's character is a conundrum. Like Araki's other films (Nowhere, The Doom Generation) his character is of the broody and brash sort. He is like this tornado, sucking in everyone around him without care or remorse. For most people this kind of protagonist would be off putting, but Gordon-Levitt doesn't portray him that way. His visual language shows apprehensiveness and iced over passiveness. We all end up like Wendy a little bit, loving him even though we know we shouldn't.

Brain played by Brady Corbet was by far the most heartbreaking character. Innocence was never lost, he never became hardened like Neil and Wendy. The way Corbet translated his character's curiosity and fears was almost tearful. Playing such a character with that amount of tact should never go without recognition. 

When Brian finally makes a friend we see him really smile for the first time. His eyes light up, kind of like an 8-year old's in an 18 year old's body. We see him progress so much, which makes the ending even more shattering than anticipated. It isn't fair.

Araki did Mysterious Skin with this elegance that is lacking a lot in today's film. I read somewhere that he didn't want to scar the child actors with the roles that they were playing, so he took extra precaution with the way he went about the process. You can tell that every character in this film was 100% committed to their role which is extremely refreshing. Brady Corbet caught my eye in a weirdly transient way, something about the way he photographed on film really connected with me.  

There isn't a solid negative critique I could wholeheartedly write about for Mysterious Skin. Any director who can talk about the traumas that unfolded in this film in such a tactful way deserves a lot of respect. Even if you disregarded the plot entirely, the editing pace and visual artistic direction was stunning. Each scene was curated to a specific artistic look in a non-obvious way. There wasn't any showing off or useless information to be absorbed. The characters all acted together harmoniously and the soundtrack still haunts me to this day. I do have to mention however that if you have not seen this film, be mindful of its triggers because there are a lot of them in this film. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

-Lauren Rose 

Curbside Fashion

Film Muse: Twister (1996)

Twister is probably that movie your parents have on VHS, tucked away in a random box somewhere in your basement. The cover is a landscape shot of a yellow sky, a black ominous tornado slashing through the center. Our copy's sleeve deteriorated years ago, now it's in a hardshell case with the ripped title Scotch taped on the side for easy viewing. It was a relic in our family. When I say that Twister changed my life please do not think I'm being melodramatic: because it did indeed change my life. 

Twister (1996) directed by Jan de Bont embodies the Americana way of life at its ultimate peak. Long time storm chasers (and lovers) Jo and Bill try to perfect a storm device called Dorothy (modeled after real-life device TOTO in the 1980s) to collect data from the inside of a tornado's vortex. The game plan is to set up Dorothy, a mechanic basin filled with hundreds of tiny ball sensors, and then drive as close as humanly possible towards a tornado to release said sensors. With the data collected from inside the tornado's vortex, the storm chasers can better understand the elusive twisters and provide earlier warning systems to help save lives. And of course, it wouldn't be a Hollywood film without the impending rivalry of another (bougier) storm chaser crew, a gang of kooky storm chasers (Philip Seymour Hoffman, Alan Ruck), a sizzling romance, and an eventual heartbreak. 

I first saw this film when I was around six years old. I'd crawl into our dark family living room and hide underneath a blanket during the opening scene. As scary as it was, I couldn't help but be mesmerised. It was probably the ever flowing adrenaline that De Bont pumps into the film, I mean, the guy made Speed (1994). Van Halen rips through the VHS tape and bleeds red white and blue onto the T.V. screen. Storm trucks race down country roads like stallions going to war. You can almost feel the electricity in the air. The characters are full of try-hard-or-die-trying enthusiasm, some searching for more than just tornado data. This is America. This is the Midwest. This is what I think of when I remember my childhood in the 90's. 

For years after this film I was convinced that I wanted to become a meteorologist. No, not to be a T.V. anchor (lame- ZERO credibility), but to chase tornados across the good ole U.S.A. BABY! It wasn't until early high school that I realized meteorology is more about calculus and psychics, which both happen to be the bane of my existence. It took me a while to realize that it wasn't meteorology that I wanted to learn about- it was filmmaking. That's right folks, Twister was the first movie that pushed me into my film obsession.

Jo (Helen Hunt) is sort of the ultimate babe, let's get real. Every time I watch this movie I have a sudden urge to fish through my wardrobe for cargo pants. And denim. Denim on denim. I think her character shows the ultimate resilience. A stubborn cookie in a testosterone tainted wolf pack is always empowering to watch. Yet the viewer connects with Jo almost right away. She tries to act aloof when Bill needs her to sign the last divorce papers so he can marry his new fiance. He seems like a square at first until the viewer realizes how perfect they are for each other. For being such a brutal force of nature, Jo is clearly a human being. It is revealed later in the film that she is the only one of the storm chasers to ever see (and survive) an F5 tornado. That F5 tornado took her father's life and consequently sparked her dire urgency to understand how and why tornados exist.

Given that this film was created in 1996, I have to say the special effects were (and still are) on point. The monster of the film is shown in the Oklahoma skies ("greenage"), ominous wind, and the silent rustles of the too quiet country side. The tornado themselves aren't even corny to watch, whipping in and out of the frame. The music score also acts as a dual indicator of the villain in the sky - low rumbles, the sound of metal eerily sliding against one another. Even with new advances in special effects, Twister is the only film to this day that repeatedly gives me chills.  

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I've been thinking about Philip Seymour Hoffman in this film a lot lately because of his passing. Not so much in a sad way. I feel happy for him. I mean, how fun would it be to film a movie about chasing tornados with some of the coolest guys and girls out there (Alan Ruck, Sean Whalen, Helen Hunt)? He got to wear awesome flannels, goof around, and listen to Eric Clapton on his van T.V. Maybe that's just my false nostalgia creeping up, but he seemed like the happiest dude in the film.  He seemed so genuine.  

Of course there are issues with this film. First of all - they treat Jami Gertz's character Dr. Melissa Reeves like crap. It's the classic Science vs. Liberal Arts banter and she happens to be the perfect scapegoat. She is Bill's brand new fiance, a reproductive therapist ("She didn't marry you for your penis! Okay, she didn't only marry your penis") who clearly doesn't know anything about Bill and his psychotic tornado chasing past. She is the sweetest southern belle dressed in an all white pantsuit (slay mama) that willingly drives her nice ass red Dodge Ram into deadly tornados, all while tending to her borderline breakdown therapy patients on her snazzy cellular phone. She pretty much gets tossed around the whole movie, but acts as a rational character for the audience to touch base with. She is sort of my favorite, to be honest.

And then you have the whole "tornado thriller" aspect. I mean, I was going to write this post a couple weeks ago until I remembered the tornado in Kentucky that killed 25 people during this time last year in 2013. Is it right to write a blog post about how much I "love" tornado movies - even though I've never even seen a tornado? Let alone been in one? This talk of glamorization could be applied to so many things in the media, but it becomes extremely relevant in Twister. You have these fanatics that devote their lives to the thrill of the chase, only coming to their senses with the trauma when it hits a little too close to home. I see that the film touches on this in a detached sort of way, but it still seems a bit Hollywood of them. But at the same time, is it worth making these type of movies if they bring people together? If they spark feelings of gratitude for living a safe life? If they remind humans of their insignificance compared to nature, or if they bring pride to the homelands?

I mean - Gummo (Harmony Korine) is a fucked up movie - not because of the characters themselves so much, because there are so many people like that in the U.S.A., but because they all function so apathetically after a devastating tornado tore their town apart. Killed their people. Isn't that the scariest part of Gummo anyways? That they just go on with life? I mean, people like to watch Gummo and Harmony Korine's work in general because it is some of the rawest/crudest well known alt. films, but his work is more than just shock value. Right? Aren't we all on the same boat? You get something from Korine's work - don't you? Or do you think Korine is just a scumbag who profits off of town weirdos and recently had a little too much money on his hands (Spring Breakers)?

Ethics. I think it's something worth pondering on. 

Twister is everything to me. It embodies the sense of Americana that I remember and the Americana that yearn for today. This was the golden age of dreams, I like to believe anyways. The pursuit of happiness, the reverie of nature, and the feeling of freedom. I see my Uncles in this movie - niche jokesters in their sweaty prime. I see women that I looked up to as a kid, Jo for her resilience and "tom boy" way of life - and Jami for her humility and grace. I see the American Midwest (the butt of all terrible U.S.A. jokes) in its best and glorious light. I see a good time, a simpler time.

It's the wonder of nature, baby.

Lauren Rose

Curbside Fashion