On Friday nights, Indieview after dark Takes a function length to honor the Fringe Cinema in the streaming age.
Read first BAIT: a strange and wonderful choice from at any time in film. Then try BITE: A division of the film’s end, impact and all other spoilers you want.
Bait: a lynchian language barrier and a break from grief
To steal from a popular meme this week, January has been the longest year of the month.
With Los Angeles still burning in the background, David Lynch died A few weeks ago – from complications of emphysema at 78 – and Hollywood went into sudden and deep sadness. Even against a steady stream of more bad news (politics, air accidents, “Emilia Pérez” Oscar nominations), tributes to the late filmmaker are still going strong.
From “Eraserhead” to “Inland Empire”, the beloved director was a crucial and sharing voice from Midnight Movie Culture, one whose surreal embrace of genre and arthouse became a category of film for itself. We return to our regularly Planned theme Programming next month, but before we fall into what we can only hope will be a better February, after the darkness doubles back for a small lynch with a niche tax that is strange for this moment. Tonight we look at “The Cowboy and the Frenchman” from 1988.
Lynch made a productive artist with intoxicating dreams Short films Throughout his career. At first glance, this bite -sized Farce is remarkable to introduce him to the late Harry Dean Stanton, who plays as the deaf cowboy narrow. On behalf of the French newspaper Le Figaro for a series about how foreign artists see French (Werner Herzog and Jean-Luc Godard also participated), it was a pure injection of Lynchian Americana. It satirizes Western stereotypes while its author experiments with its lightest inclinations as a humorist, playing with slapstick and stupid redundant dialogue to confuse as well as charm.
When Pierre (Frederic Golchan) stumbles down a slope in Slim’s homestead, he is captured by Ranch Hands Pete (Jack Nance) and Dusty (Tracey Walter). It will take several minutes of Abbott and Costello-like exchanges for cowboys to put together that Pierre only speaks French-and has moved from an “Indian” named Broken Feather (Michael Horse aka Hawk from “Twin Peaks”). But when the cowboys are clear Rifling through Pierre’s luggage, packed to the edge with wine, bread, cheese and french fries, decides narrow to crack out Budweiser and let the Parisian stay.
Leaning into your nightmares when you are facing times of uncertainty or grief works much of the time. That is why horror movies have done so well. But after a difficult January – permeated by American exceptionalism among other horse shit – everyone who is still on a Lynch park should consider looking at this hidden gem as a paletor. Although it is imperfect, “The Cowboy and the Frenchman” sees its filmmaker take a break from their own dark fantasies to shake explore the idea of cultural exchanges with their favorite motifs and tropes. It is a welcome recall and a warm reminder of Lynch’s wisdom.
“Cowboy and the Frenchman” now flows on Mubi.
Bite: “It may explain certain things … or maybe not”
“Cowboy and the Frenchman” is surprisingly quotable, with lines like “Flapjacks as big as a saddle-blanc-quette! ” and ‘I told you we can’t eat that cheese! ” Stinging in your brain after just one viewing. As the night goes on-and narrow, Pierre, Broken Feather, Dusty and Pete are met by a group of singing girls out in the pitch pastures-the visuals of the paradoxical party still feel like one that could only be put on by Lynch.
There are two common interpretations of this short. You can take cowboy’s rough handling of Parisian as a prosecution against Americans’ reputation as international bone heads, or you can see the story overall as a Snide comment on how the Frenchmen think They are seen by the large and varied United States. A certain amount of self -evidence is required to recruit creative to confess their feelings for your culture, and Lynch’s decision to reject Le Figaro’s offer before they eventually accept support the second theory.
With snails in the pockets and an inexplicable photo of Puerto Rico actor/director José Ferrer in his bag, Pierre spends the first half of the short waxing poetic about the beauty of Manhattan. He is as fixed on the Statue of Liberty as the “Brutalist” and tells about evenings with rich conversations and “colorful pills” like up and down symbols for urban elitism.
“I saw a very small sebra in a Ford car,” Cos Coos in a moment away from the discerning cowboys, delivered straight to the camera. He shakes in the presence of broken feather but conveys an almost spiritual feeling of curiosity through his descriptions of the East Coast City. Later, as slow scenes of a horse overlay Cancan dancers and the men are tied through a haze of liquor and fresh air, Pierre reminds the prairies and stars.
So cynical or gentle as you choose it to be, “The cowboy and the frenchman” culminates in a dark -haired French woman who romance slim (“IIt’s a do-Si-do, or it’s a do-si-dee …“She Purrs) before Pierre begins to kiss two American chickens (“Do you want to sleep with me tonight?“You ask clumsy with a twang.) A gun is shot in the air, and a mini-Lady freedom appears. “Long Live France! “They all say. It is a gratifying moment, provided that free wheel sex and patriotism are your cause, and a crucial artifact from a filmmaker who could comment on comment without sacrificing their own recursive perspective.
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