Where's the dividing line between allowing an artist free rein to tell his story and the need for some sort of structure to organize that story?  Some people work great completely unfettered, giving form to every thought that gestates in their fevered brain.  Tarantino seems like a writer who can go off on multiple tangents, mash-up various genres and tones, and yet it all feels like a cohesive whole (Death Proof notwithstanding).  These are the iconic artists who, when left to their own devices, create works of such beautiful originality and innovation that you just want them to seclude themselves from the rest of the world and continue dreaming up more unique visions.

Then there are those that need to be pushed and restrained.  It's a hard balance to strike between stifling an artist's vision and giving him boundaries that he has to work within.  Book writers tend to be the ones with the most freedom, as it's solitary work that doesn't necessitate a lot of different components, departments or contributions.  Movies, on the other hand, tend to be the one with that most precarious of balance - as there are so many different people working on a movie, each with his own vision, with her own motivation for seeing the film succeed.  But out of these hardships can come some great stories.  Jaws would probably be terrible if the mechanical shark hadn't malfunctioned, therefore resulting in a much more menacing approach to the titular monster.  Certain restraints can force an artist to narrow her vision, or to be more clever and resourceful to work around whatever obstacles are placed in front of her.

So where does one stake the marker between limitations and censorship?  Between helpful collaboration and smothering corporate oversight?  How does one determine what would be best for his work - to listen to the voices of others or to go it alone?  How can an artist tell when to rein it in and when to push as far as you can?

I don't know the answers to these questions and, judging by Richard Kelly's oeuvre, he doesn't either.  Kelly first burst onto the scene with Donnie Darko - a great, odd little indie film seemingly tailor-made for today's brand of confused emo and goth kids who all want their own slice of weirdness pie.  Combining all manner of fringe concepts and interests wrapped up in a well-shot package delivered with quasi-intelligent - or is that just purposefully? - dialogue, Donnie Darko was a truly unique film that seemed to announce a new talent had arrived in the form of Writer/Director Kelly.

But then things got worrisome...

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Song: "A Quick One While He's Away" by The Who

Event: The movie, Rushmore

There's not too many filmmakers out there that can make a scene so iconic that every time you see or hear anything associated with that scene, their film is the first thing that comes to mind.  Scorsese and Tarantino have both proven their effectiveness with marrying pop music to intense scenes so whenever you end up on classic radio and hear "Gimme Shelter" or "Stuck in the Middle" suddenly come on, that scene replays in your mind.  (Although, Mr. Scorsese - please, no more with the "Gimme Shelter."  We get it.  I assure you - we get it)

Wes Anderson is, I suppose, the less violent and more hipster friendly version of this type of filmmaker.  He's been able to marry numbers of great pop songs to beautifully staged and filmed scenes.  Like Tarantino, he seems more interested in the music that stands just on the outside of the popular mainstream - focusing more on the songs in middle of the top ten than the first 3.

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Everything is more complicated than you think. You only see a tenth of what is true. There are a million little strings attached to every choice you make; you can destroy your life every time you choose. But maybe you won't know for twenty years. And you may never ever trace it to its source. And you only get one chance to play it out. Just try and figure out your own divorce. And they say there is no fate, but there is: it's what you create.

And even though the world goes on for eons and eons, you are only here for a fraction of a fraction of a second. Most of your time is spent being dead or not yet born. But while alive, you wait in vain, wasting years, for a phone call or a letter or a look from someone or something to make it all right. And it never comes or it seems to but it doesn't really. And so you spend your time in vague regret or vaguer hope that something good will come along. Something to make you feel connected, something to make you feel whole, something to make you feel loved.

And the truth is I feel so angry, and the truth is I feel so fucking sad, and the truth is I've felt so fucking hurt for so fucking long and for just as long I've been pretending I'm OK, just to get along, just for, I don't know why, maybe because no one wants to hear about my misery, because they have their own. Well, fuck everybody. Amen.

-Synecdoche, New York

Oh sweet jesus....

Apparently, still buzzing from their Gathering - which even included Mushroomhead and PEOPLE ON STILTS - Insane Clown Posse has made a western movie.  Ugh.

(Via Videogum)

Original Cover to the Book

Childhood nostalgia is a tricky thing.  Cater to it too much, and you become an obsessive completist stuck in the past and unable to appreciate any new approaches or nuances to familiar subject matter.  Disregard it too much and you risk alienating and offending people who loved the subject matter in the first place.

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