Gabriel wrote:referendum wrote:It was shit that only pseuds and post-modernists could claim any affection for.
This is the kind of fan-judgement on here which is itself incredibly pretentious and arrogant - the idea that anyone who has a different opinion, or rates things that you don't, or even likes them, is a pseud.
Nope. End of the day, you make a value judgement. I operate off objective reality. Is the show a cohesive piece of work or a dog's dinner? Is it narratively coherent? Does it elevate the spirit when you watch it or grind you into the dirt?
It's a hateful, anti-life dog's breakfast. It's post-modernist in that it's operating on reductionism: is it still art if you consciously try to avoid everything that makes a TV show good? You decide to have a narrative that makes no sense and is 95 per cent irrelevant. You shoot it to look like a videotaped 1990s episode of Eastenders. Rather than edit it properly, you dump the entire take on screen and move on. It's about taking away anything that's uplifting in art and still claiming it's art. It's back to proclaiming a urinal is art. It's postmodern. It's garbage.
One could probably make the argument that Lynch was largely a modernist before a certain point - Inland Empire, perhaps - at which point he turned into a post-modernist. Mulholland Drive is kind of a transition to that but it's still got the beating heart you mention, the genuine spiritual searching, and aesthetically the last half hour could hardly be confused with the work of a film student. With Inland, Lynch stepped firmly into the camp of relativistic "everything is art!" postmodern posturing. This is all anchored by the idea that, even if you get lazy and shoot with cheap digital cameras with no script and amateur-hour technical specs to make a movie that looks like it was shot by a film student, it's still every bit as valid and artistic as a sincere work of art that's truly painstakingly crafted, like The Straight Story or FWWM or basically any of Lynch's celluloid features. (Even the pre-Tarantino PoMo type casual violence of Wild at Heart is balanced by a deeply felt central romance and an ending that elevates everything above the muck instead of wallowing in it like postmodern film usually does).