Perhaps it is because Cruising is still fresh on my mind, but it stands out to me how good Friedkin is at these gritty, voyeuristic thrillers. It feels like he’s always teetering on the edge (or he’s completely over the edge) of exploitation, showing the grimier parts of our conditions. I love all the handheld camera work, when it’ll cut to footage of the car shaking off the cliff or of a group of people stumbling down the stairs, the entire thing messy and chaotic. I also love the zooms— I feel like I’ve heard often people claim the camera should be invisible, a surveyor of the scene rather than part of it. Friedkin makes it known that it is there, that we are part of this sensory experience and we are choosing to look upon these horrors. There’s a particular zoom near the beginning of the movie where it seems like the camera adjusts during the shot, pulling out and back in a few times. It would be considered “imperfect”, but it feels so true to the film and it has stuck with me after finishing it. Again, between this and Cruising, I find myself more intrigued by a filmmaker who wants to blatantly address the nature of the medium.

Again, Tangerine Dream is (to me) one of the greatest bands to score films. Everything they touch is magical— it has been really exciting to move around their discography and see how they adapt their sound to different films. I also find the body of their work curious— the films they scored are all poignant genre movies, and the majority of them are from newer creatives (Minus Sorcerer and Legend). Thief was Mann’s first film, Risky Business was Brickman’s first film, and Near Dark was Kathryn Bigelow’s first film. Miracle Mile wasn’t De Jarnatt’s first movie, but it was early in his career and at a point studios didn’t believe him to be Somebody. I wonder how Tangerine Dream came to be part of these films, and what their collective work looks like when pieced together. What makes their music so distinct? What feelings do their scores evoke? For me, in all of their work, there’s a sense of dreaminess and adventure— it feels like you are journeying into something unexpected. For Risky Business, the score feels like it reflects Chicago, an unknown city to an awkward kid attempting to set his feet on the ground. For Miracle Mile, it begins as aimless and airy, accompanying soft and new love. It transforms into something pulsing, an adventure into chaos. In Sorcerer, it is similar— a descent into hell, a contrast to the thick woods and mudslides onscreen. It blends with an incredible sound mix, cutting in at unnerving times and reminding you to breathe, but also being extremely unsettling because you remember it Is a movie and something unexpected will happen around the corner. I’m not sure if I’m expressing myself well (or if I make total sense), but I just love their presence in film— they defined the late 70s and the 80s. I think there should be a more in-depth study of their work! 

It is an easy comp, but I think the only other time I’ve felt this specific combination of haunted and unsettled and lost was reading Heart of Darkness from Joseph Conrad. The way that novel resists you and refuses to give you answers, keeps you at a distance while showing you the malicious insides of the human condition— it was a defining read in my life. This film had similar attributes— spiraling into chaos and destruction, unflinching in its actions. 

Also shoutout to my dad who walked in halfway through and asked me if I was watching Jurassic Park and I was like No…  No…