Geoff Pevere: Cosmopolis VS Teenage Girls

I doubt the summer, or maybe the entire year, will provide me with another movie experience quite like the one I had last night with Cosmopolis, David Cronenberg’s new adaptation of one of Don Dellillo’s least-admired novels.

The movie itself is a challenging piece of work: largely taking place in the back of a spacepod-like luxury limo conveying Robert Pattinson’s soulless Wall Street billionaire-bloodsucker to a haircut on the other side of a riot-stricken Manhattan (nicely and not in any way unobviously played by Toronto), it plays out as a series of largely deadpan, abstract-theoretical exchanges between Pattinson’s dead-eyed uber-broker and various people who are briefly along for the ride.

Geoff Pevere: Last Man Standing

The late American novelist and essayist David Foster Wallace wrote an amazing appreciation of the work and career of David Lynch for Premiere magazine back in 1995. The magazine arranged for the writer to hang out on the set of Lynch’s Lost Highway when it was before cameras, but the piece itself is considerably less a journalistic report on the making of the movie than Wallace’s excuse to make a case for Lynch as one of the most vital, idiosyncratic and honest filmmakers Hollywood had ever let sneak into its gilded gates. A true artist, that is, and as such a figure to be cherished and respected even if his movies make you crazy, angry or just plain confused.