Implicit/Allusive Spoilers OR 'like wet gloves they bobbed and shone til he sluiced/ Them out on the dunghill, glossy and dead'

Firstly, it's conceivable that Bale's intentionally channeling a certain puppyfat-prone midfield ace in The Prestige right? With his inanely boyish grin and estuary vowels? The movie deployed pretty much every key fin de siecle gothic trope (live burial, orientalism, dopplegangers, fragmentary journals, science and/science as magic, the gaslit pursuit of incognito gentlemen by incognito gentlemen over Eastcheap cobbles*) but in a deft and intelligent way. Its spin on the gothic idea of the selves we're obligated to murder in order to attain the condition of civilization (the actual unattainability of which ideal means the murder has to daily re-occur) was pretty chilling/affecting/effective, and as evocative of the 1970s/80s sci/bio-fi gothic of  Alien, The Thing or Bladerunner as it was Jekyll, Dorian or Dracula (it's a movie almost as preoccupied w/ parthenogenesis as Alien 4). Even ScarJo's bungled UK English isn't that excruciating.

The sense you're left with of lives stunted or wasted, of selves expensively, performatively dissembled, made me think of Judith Butler's notion of 'heterosexual melancholy' - straight culture's disavowed sorrow over the people we're required not to be &/or love. On another tack, kinda weird that Hugh Jackman's dandified stage-magician turn might have inspired this year's bizarre, razzledazzle-y Oscars format tho isn't it?

*Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick's argued that a 'tableau of two men chasing one another across a landscape' is central to Frankenstein in particular and Victorian gothic in general. Pretty much The Thing's entire cocktail of bromantically tinged & paranoiac macho rivalry, icy climes, monstrosity and science is cribbed directly from Shelley.

(Kurt, hirsute and investigating, is from here, Lampsesque bale here, Frankencrevasse here, Frankenhug (w/ Drogba) here)

Equine Pathos II: The Verbinskining

I've previously talked a) about how much I enjoyed Ring and b) about equine pathos (whereby the portrayal of horses being injured is used to lend stories tragicky spiritualistic heft). Well, just saw the American version of Ring, the which I'd fully expected to be bad for reasons of innate anti-Hollywood snootiness plus because Gore Verbinski's next film was Pirates of the Caribbean, which I still find so incongruous that I call bullshit on my brain whenever it reminds me of the fact and have to aiemdeebee it. It was pretty fun self-righteously hand wringing about the badness of it all and I'd been happily shooting fish (wise-beyond-his-years kid who makes spooky crayon drawings - pow! -  superfluous Naomi Watts underwear shot w/in five minutes - kablam! -  switching the male character from an academic to a brodaciously grungey camera op - doosh! and etc.) for over an hour when THIS came along, nudging the whole enterprise into a world of actually kinda valiant badness I'll admit I hadn't banked on (**SPOILER/question** can you ever bank on a horse threshed by a ferry rudder?). So hats off, Gore.

Possession, Pianolae, Polly

I really liked Polly Harvey's last LP, a whalebone and sepia affair in which hexes and live burial and possession and all those Gothic staples figure more or less latently/metaphorically (as the cover pretty economically signals). One of the songs, 'The Piano,' is about how following the cues a musical score prescribes can compromise yr identity; by reprising the postures another, earlier piano player once assumed - occupying the same space and, if not the same time, the same rhythm they did - the protagonist's able to effect a symbiotic (re)union w/ them. To quote: 

'My fingers sting / Where I feel your fingers have been / Ghostly fingers/ Moving my limbs.. Oh God I miss you.’ 

I was  >>ing through Bladerunner in order to  get to the bit where Deckard scans the photograph the other day (while trying not to smirk at the meta-ness of that scenario) & I was struck by how,  immediately pre-scanning, there's a similar piano/intersubjectivity conjunction, whereby the sheet music on Deckard's piano (he falls asleep at it immediately pre-scanning) is juxtaposed w/ the photos by way of which the replicants are furnished w/ false or borrowed memories. 

Like those good girls in days of yore whose facility with the spinet guaranteed their marriageability/tractability replicants aren't supposed to improvise. 

ALSO did Polly Harvey crib her hair from Bladerunner era  Sean Young??

(Pianola lithography + encoded Beet's 5th (that's what the dashes and lavender crescents are) from adclassix, sepia portrait from here, Peej + adorable redrawing of rock criticism's paradigms here, Rachel pensive at piano + her coiffure from leagueofmelbotis)