I imagine myself in the role of a film director, talking to a young actress who I want to star in my upcoming film. The film I’m working on is a risky one. It’s similar to Louis Malle’s great Black Moon in that way. So similar in spirit, in fact, that I invite the young iPhone and Facebook-obsessed actress in question over to see the movie.
Just for the sake of illustration, I’ll name an actress for you to imagine in this unlikely scenario. How about Brian de Palma’s 20-year-old daughter, Willa Holland, a notably beautiful actress who has yet to star in anything too interesting. One should have no time imagining Willa as an actor who would likely be put off by the sorts of things that happen in Malle’s Black Moon. And, of course, Willa is a hungry young starlet looking for a project that will bring her a a more serious spotlight – this almost at any means. So yes, you could say that Willa was chosen wisely, and with agendas.
So I have Willa over. She wants to be in my movie already, because I’m great. I just made some excellent – and slightly artsy – drama that made my name one that the more ambitious actors know right away. Willa wants to feed off of my Lena Dunham-like success. She wants cred. And, we have to assume, she wants to do good work.
Cathyrn Harrison, the then 16-year-old star of Malle’s 1975 surrealist fantasy flick, is, like Willa, quite beautiful. Also like Willa, Harrison had an incredible screen presence for someone so young.
And so Willa and I watch the movie. Once it’s over I ask Willa what she thinks and, as expected, she pretty much thinks it’s the worst movie she’s ever seen. I take that back, she ABSOLUTELY thinks Black Moon is the worst film she’s seen. Why? Well, because it’s bonkers. There’s no real structure, narrative or message and Malle doesn’t even begin to play by the rules. Sure, the cinematography by the great Sven Nykvist (one of the all-time Top 5 best cinematographers) is great, looking like a mix of Stephen Frears’ The Hit and Ingmar Bergman’s Fanny and Alexander. Willa likes that. She’s seen a lot of good movies (remember, she’s Brian de Palma’s daughter) and quite liked Fanny. Also, her dad taught her all about screen composition long ago – so she does have a clue.
But, still, Willa didn’t get the piece as a whole. She’d didn’t grasp why it worked. And so I get started on the real work. The work that prepares the young actress for the crazy movie I want to make. I could just say “something ilke Fellini’s Amarcord, but maybe even crazier,” but Willa might not get that either. And, if she does get it, she might be misled. And so, again, I go off …
“Look, I understand why you hated Black Moon. When it came out, pretty much everyone hated it. So much so that it never came out on proper home video. In fact, not until some TV stations and film festivals started to play it decades after it was made did it find a fanbase. Nowadays it has quite the cult following. One that, I suspect, will continue to grow.”
Willa is now somewhat interested, it seems. She wants her Ghost World or whatever. Then, of course, she starts playing on her phone. It’s the game with the birds who knock down walls (mixed in with a little bit of epic texting, natch).
“Look,” I continue. “Think of it this way: had you just seen The Wizard of Oz or Alice in Wonderland or whatever for the first time, you’d probably think those movies were a little bizarre, wouldn’t you? Right Said Fred. Your Highness, The Princess Bride. You get it; it’s called fantasy.”
Willa’s not buying it. Or she’s just not listening. Or not understanding. Hard to say. Pretty girls make graves, bubba.
“We see a 16-year-old girl breast feed an old woman, then pick her up and carry her around, singing her to sleep. We see a talking unicorn. We see lots of talking animals. We see naked children running around like crazy, wrestling with a pig. We see blood-happy soldiers killing anyone they come across. We see endless glasses of milk. The dialogue rarely synchs up with the actor’s mouths.”
“That all sounds so … crazy,” Willa says. “And fucking stupid,” she continues, working to establish some Bad Kid credibility. Lights up a cigarette; picks the loose tobacco off her tongue.
“Exactly! This movie will make you feel uneasy. It’ll take you out of your element. It’ll make an impression. Don’t tell me you’ve ever seen a movie that even begins to compare to this one. I won’t believe it.”
It appears to be clicking. Black Moon, a challenging film, seems to be the right pick for opening young minds. Willa’s mind spins as her eyes stare off into nowhere, thinking. She’s smoked through her cigarette, her young eyes now red and blue and glassy and hopeful.
“Imagine being Malle back in 1975 or whatever. Imagine him coming home from work and telling his wife or girlfriend or lover about all these things he’s doing. The naked kids. Imagine the wife or whoever hearing that her husband (or whatever) is going to strip the shirt off of a 16-year-old girl and then make her mock breastfeed an old lady.”
Willa laughs, but not with the famous fuckme eyes she often uses. (This likely because I’m an ugly duckling compared to the Hollywood compatriots she’s used to drawing bone from.)
“Now …” I continue “… Now imagine being someone who went to see the movie, based solely on Malle’s reputation. Imagine being one of the critics. An ex-girlfriend. A cousin. A MOTHER! These people will actually see this batshit movie. And it’s weird, but it’s also beautiful. Now imagine being Malle, who has to face all of these people who saw his very off-putting, very brave, very original work. He’s a mature, serious man who has made a work that alienates him. All for the sake of his sole vision.”
Willa laughs nervously, and with mystery, this time hinting at the fuckme eyes. Yep, she’s really getting it. This is why people become directors. Well, part of the reason.
I then rant endlessly about how any work of art can be anything at any time. There are no rules, no matter what anyone tells you. Rules are for the worker, not the artist. A champion work is a unique work. An influential work. A sole work that people talk about whether they like it or not. Impact, it matters.
Two hours after telling Willa about the merits of Louis Malle and Black Moon, I get a text message. Every word is spelled incorrectly, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Willa Holland is going to be my Cathryn Harrison. Willa Holland is going to turn her career over to someone with a sense of creative adventure. And I’m going to make the craziest movie of the decade and it’s going to feature a girl almost too perfect to look at. These things happen. Wild projects featuring young starlets get made – just ask Louis Malle.
Maybe my movie ends up bad. Or maybe it’s considered bad for 20 years, then it finds an audience. Or maybe I inspire someone else to ignore the rules. Maybe I inspire a generation in the way Jean-Luc Godard did in the early 60s with balls-y movies like Breathless and Pierrot le fou. If nothing else, I got to watch Black Moon with one of the few women in the history of time with a prettier face than Cathryn Harrison. And I got to talk about the passion.
Black Moon was recently released by the Criterion Collection on both Blu-ray and DVD. It’s a beautiful, strange and haunting movie that plays out like both a nightmare and a fairy tale. It’s the kind of inventive and imaginative work that can and will inspire many, many filmmakers. And babes. Big thanks to the folks at the CC for finally getting this very risque film into the homes of weirdos all around the world. We need this shit.
98/100
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
will check it out
have you seen el topo yet?
No. Have long meant to check out Jodorowsky. Almost bought one of his three-film collections once. Good?
i loved it … still need to watch santa sangre
when i read this: “Don’t tell me you’ve ever seen a movie that even begins to compare to this one.” – it was the only film that came to mind