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LOST HIGHWAY

PRIMAL STREAM XXII Fresh horror, a David Lynch stone classic and more, now available to stream

BY JASON SHAWHAN

As it stands, it’s another week to have a mental margarita of great strength and volume, because the melancholy and aggressive helplessness is real, and there’s only so much that medication and meditation can do at this point. But there’s a lot of interesting art to view this week, and bunches of previous offerings in this series. If the COVID-19 era is the folk mayhem of The Fog, then let me be your Stevie Wayne and offer something more than the existential dread of being alive right now. As always, you can look back at past issues of the Scene for dozens more streaming recommendations.

SPUTNIKVIA VIDEO ON DEMAND

A lot of films in the intervening 34 years have sought to follow the lead of David Cronenberg’s version of The Fly in reinventing a classic story with contemporary splatter and effects know-how. But Sputnik is one of the first films ever to try to tap into that 1986 classic’s emotional majesty and keep the audience completely rooted in the personal drama of uncontrollable monstrous transformation — and it keeps the viewer in unexpected places. The trailer promises creature action, and it has an abundance of that. (Note: Do you like lots of bloody mantid-derived action? If so, you’re going to be very happy.) Likewise, there’s a good deal of Soviet-era political intrigue. But Sputnik’s secret weapon is Oksana Akinshina, whose titular performance in Lukas Moodysson’s Lilya 4-Ever is one of the most wrenching and affecting debuts in global art cinema. And as Dr. Tatyana Klimova, she is a resolute figure at the heart of this interstellar tragedy. When cosmonaut Konstantin Veshnyakov’s mission crashes to Earth in 1983, he is hidden away at a remote research facility. Dr. Klimova, facing some issues with regulatory commissions and angry relatives, is brought in to consult, because why not — there are unforeseen circumstances all up in this situation, with lots of memory gaps, drippy transformations, and heaps of headless corpses. It’s a little long (just under two hours), but it feels so unlike anything of recent vintage that one can’t help but relax into its deliberate rhythm.

RANDOM ACTS OF VIOLENCE ON SHUDDER

I like Jay Baruchel. He’s been a hallmark of great comedy for quite some time now (see: Goon, the How to Train Your Dragon series, This Is the End, Letterkenny), so it’s unexpected to see the actor direct a horror film as relentless as this one. Ultimately, the reach of Random Acts of Violence exceeds its grasp, but not before it delivers one of the most impressive and visceral murderscapes I’ve seen in quite some time. If you enjoy horror, you’ve encountered this sort of situation before, wherein a vehicle full of folk meets a mad killer, and mayhem

ensues. Random Acts of Violence explores this scenario twice — like the most bloodthirsty of research scientists, looking to shift some variables for maximum splatter. And damned if it doesn’t resonate in the recesses of the reptilian brain long after the film ends, the first variation for sudden and shocking savagery, the second for physically distant cruelty. On the whole, the film trips up on its determination to make a

RANDOM ACTS

OF VIOLENCE profound statement about creativity fueled by suffering and tragedy, and I’ve no idea how it’ll sit as a cohesive whole with viewers (though it will find a devoted audience in some subsets of horror fandom). But Baruchel the director knows how to execute (in both senses of the word) an unflinching set piece or two. LOST HIGHWAYON PEACOCK AND AMAZON PRIME

For his first film after the commercial catastrophe of 1992’s Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, David Lynch dove deep into the darkest recesses of the human mind and served up a hallucinatory meditation on guilt, sexual insecurity and the O.J. Simpson trial. Working with mystery-noir novelist Barry Gifford and cinematographer Peter Deming (Evil Dead 2, House Party, Screams 2-4), Lynch dissects the predatory aspects of male fantasy using the milieux of Buñuel and Kie ślowski, giving Bill Pullman one of the best roles of his career (see also: Zero Effect) and finding in Patricia Arquette a femme fatale for the ’90s and the future. Her dual role as Renee and Alice prefigures the dualist majesty of Mulholland Drive four years later, but without the operatic sadness that leavens that film’s movie-nursed fugue. Lost Highway is a space of high-contrast shadows and no pity, where personifications of doubt and jealousy taunt you like a Greek tragedy unfolding on the creepiest roads of interdimensional California. This is a dark, vicious film that pulls no punches and messes with your mind in the best possible way. One time, at a midnight screening of this film, an audience member asked if this was a “devil film.” Honestly, I still don’t know how to conclusively answer that. With Richard Pryor, Jack Nance and Robert Blake. Watch it as loud as you can in as dark a room as possible. Also, for more David Lynch discussion, look back at our exploration of Lynch’s work in the May 4, 2017, issue of the Scene.

OVER THE GARDEN WALL ON HULU

Despite the reputation I’ve built over the decades as one of those film critics who most likes movies where enigmatic strangers fix an entire family’s problems by having sex with each of them, or films

from the tulpa’s point of view, I have a distinct and sincere fondness for things that are heartfelt and magical. This 2014 animated series (altogether running right around an hour and 50 minutes) is something beautiful and kind. It has magic and mysteries and frog bands and powerful mixtapes, yet it feels timeless in the way that few modern works do — think The Rainbow Goblins or the more abstract moments in Laika’s oeuvre. Two half-brothers journeying into the Unknown with a frog and a sense of purpose wouldn’t seem inherently compelling, but this series hits the ground running and brings the viewer along for the ride, and that’s a rock fact. It’s a wonderful achievement, and it’s perfect for anyone who binged The Midnight Gospel on Netflix and wants something with the same kind of trippy coziness. Ain’t that just the way? EMAIL ARTS@NASHVILLESCENE.COM