On Monday, October 12th, I had the honor of attending a special screening of Guy Maddin’s new foray into cinematic phantasmagoria, The Forbidden Room. The film was held in NYC's Film Forum. The Forbidden Room was typical Guy Maddin, steeped in Freudian imagery, farcical, a film that seeks recourse in and pays homage to lost vintage film gems. What I found particularly appealing about this romp of a film was the story-within-a-story structure, the Russian doll structure, narrative rivulets that are sometimes ardently funny, sometimes incoherent, yet always a treat to watch. The film was followed by a Q & A session with Maddin, where he explained the genesis of the film and its production process. I found the film’s structure fascinating, the individual segments like fever dreams. After the informational Q & A was over, I had the privilege of speaking to Guy Maddin--in Film Forum’s foyer—and asking him about his favorite author, Bruno Schulz.
As I timidly handed him my copy of Brand Upon the Brain and a sharpie for his autograph, I asked him how Schulz continued to influence his narrative style, and more specifically how Schulz’s tendency to mythicize his family continued to influence his cinematic repertoire. He smiled candidly at my mention of Schulz, and, as he signed away, relayed great things about the Polish genius. What caught my attention was when Maddin, modestly, referred to himself as recreating, imitating Schulz… yet what recreation, what imitation!
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves… Maddin is a cinematic genius with a unique voice (albeit dense narrative structure and idiosyncratic, mannerist style).
In that same foyer at Film Forum Tab Hunter signed autographs of his new expose (this following the documentary Tab Hunter Confidential). What a night! Two respective legends under one building. I couldn’t have asked for more.
