Having just finished the new season of Twin Peaks, I was caught again in a classic question about cinema: what is it about? Being a narrative dork, my instinctive answer is that cinema is about storytelling. Where once we sat around fires and sang each other heroic epics, or passed on ghost stories at the dinner table, now we watch movies or television.
I freely admit that I privilege narrative over other purposes of cinema, but the risk is that I miss other functions of cinema, like the artistry of composition. Perhaps again revealing my biases and predilections, I am quite fine for a short film or digital media piece to contain absolutely no narrative, but just be beautiful, but that’s because short films and digital media isn’t real cinema. Narrative is king.
Twin Peaks invites a challenge to that view. The narrative takes a back seat to the aesthetic and ideas, challenging the audience to overcome its perceived need for closure, coherence, and completeness. But, again, we are in the area of television (or, perhaps, episodic cinema). Is the fascination with Twin Peaks more that it’s quirky in contrast with ‘real’ cinema/television? It’s nice for a treat, but we really want the substantive stuff?
I tried to test this out by looking at two mainstream movies that prioritised aesthetic over substance… but I suspect I chose poorly. What follows, gentle reader, is a blog post that wasn’t what I intended to write when I watched these two films. What follows is the ravings of a man driven half insane by visions that no mortal man should ever see, visions strange and unnatural, visions of demons that haunt the minds of others deep in the void that exists behind their eyes whose incessant chants call to the Old Gods who, not dead, are long in sleep and whom we dare not wake lest they return to the world of men.
I watched The Neon Demon and Jem & the Holograms and I regret it so much.