David Lynch's DUNE, thirty years later

It could be seen as a measure of my own perversity, as it contradicts the opinion not only of the filmmaker but the opinions of numerous film enthusiasts whose discernment in these matters usually matters to me, but I consider DUNE very much the finest film of its kind and one of Lynch’s finest efforts as well.  It was thirty years ago that the film was first released in a form that the filmmaker nominally approved, and he had already begun adapting one of Herbert’s subsequent tomes for its sequel (I believe it’s called Dune Messiah,) when the critics lambasted it as incoherent, the book’s admirers collectively frothed at the mouth and David Lynch ended up suffering what his daughter has described as a year long depression.

 I’ve chosen these frames from fairly early in the film, when Paul’s future wife, Irulan, introduces us to the plot and his grandmother, Gaius Helen Mohiam, acts as seer for the girl’s father, Padisha Emperor Shadam IV, in his confrontation with one of the Spacing Guild Navigators, and the old lady consequently tests her boy with the Box.  

 It is in moments such as this when one realizes that one is in the hands of a master story teller.

The Baron explains the Plan

I believe that it was this scene which caused fellow Howard Hawks idolator, Robin Wood, to dismiss Lynch’s masterpiece, in a footnote, as the most obscenely homophobic movie in the history of the medium.  I believe Mr Wood, as a kind of Gay guy, found it difficult to identify with any of the men in this scene other than the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen.  It seems not to have crossed his mind that Ernesto Laguardia’s unnamed victim might also be read as Queer or Gay, or that the scene itself might have something interesting to say about Power in a Society, such as ours, that worships Petroleum and the Act of Consumption.  Consider the anonymous attendant, directly below, apparently blinded and deafened in order to protect royal secrets. (I unfortunately identify with him.)  Isn't he Queer as well? He is very useful, even necessary in his way, to those in control.

Niece and Nephews

Elijah, Noah and Cheyenne at Blackledge Falls, April 2006

These photographs record an excursion to Blackledge Falls in Glastonbury, Connecticut, by my sister, her two younger sons, our niece and myself, eight and a half years ago.  It was especially pleasant for Cheyenne (my brother’s daughter) to have the chance to wander in a forest, as she was rarely allowed out of the house by her mother in Florida (supposedly on account of the girl’s severely limited vision,) from whence she was visiting.  The boys, having grown up in the area were more accustomed to such hikes.  Since it was a particularly damp afternoon, the ledge was especially black that day and the lichen, moss and spring shoots were vibrant green.  In the foreground of the next to last picture down can be seen a tree that was felled by beaver who had a nearby pond.

The Golden Pear

Night View from the Yacht Club 

Most of these photographs in this first group were taken last Spring, though there’s four from last Winter, two early and two late.  The Full Moon was shot through the electric lines on Page Street just above that lovely Julia Morgan building that now houses the Zen Center.  The Japanese Quince Blossoms were purchased at the Farmer’s Market from a Japanese Farmer named Glen for the Lunar New Year (when my friend, Fumi, was a teenager, she and another Japanese Farmer’s daughter, Grace, were rivals for Glen’s affection; he played one against the other and wound up with neither one nor the other.)  The Yacht Club was not particularly fancy but just enough for my taste and I was there for a small party following an official Reception for a large Mural and Light Project designed by friends, Laura and Tom, called Bay View Rising.  The steel and glass Translucent Pianos were being hoisted into place to decorate the Eleventh Street side of a new steel and glass building on Market Street.

The Golden Pear

One of my favorite Fairy Tales, in both Grimm and Pushkin versions, can be called either the Golden Bird or the Golden Cockerel.  Rimsky Korsakov based an Opera on Aleksandr Pushkin’s tale.   I suppose I prefer the German version because it is more complex:  The King has a Pear Tree with a Golden Pear, and every night a Golden Bird comes to steal the Fruit.  Only the youngest and least honored of his sons figures out how to catch it.  As a result, under the guidance of a talking Fox, he is able to end an old Curse and wed a good and beautiful noblewoman, the Fox’s sister.