June 15, 1998
Showings:
June 17 - Enzian, 10pm
I HAVE NEVER SEEN A MOVIE LIKE THIS.
Independent films have been pretty uninspired lately, with indie film
being the flavor of the moment and THE MOUSE swallowing Miramax whole.
I'm growing tired of watching twenty-something slackers showcase their
brilliance at pop-culture trivia or discount-store philosophy as they work
their service jobs. I'm over the ensemble "heist" movies where one of
the criminals is a rat. I'm actually quite sick of the same movies being
made over and over again by clinically depressed gen-x'ers and a
megalomanic former video store clerk whose singular talent is a
photographic memory (let's see if that one gets me punched in a
restaurant).
Anyway . . .
I finally saw something different.
Refreshingly different.
Excitingly different.
FRIGHTENINGLY different.
TOMORROW NIGHT is the most original film I've seen in years. It's hard to
even classify its genre, though it is ostensibly a comedy, a very creepy
comedy. It has the comic timing of a horror film, the punch lines of an
experimental film.
It's weird.
I'm not going to go into specific plot details. They won't make much
sense outside the context of the film, and plot isn't of vital importance
anyway. Let me just tell you that Charles, the protagonist, is a
meticulous photo shop owner whose favorite pastime is writhing his naked
ass in a bowl of ice cream while listening to big band music on an antique
phonograph.
Get the picture?
Christ, I hope not.
TOMORROW NIGHT is a film that defies "normal" comic rhythms. It's
mostly shot in long takes, with a wickedly parched delivery. Chuck Sklar,
as Charles, executes his lines with such deadpan intensity, he makes Ben
Stein look like Robin Williams on a Labor Day Weekend cocaine bender.
These extended sequences first make you laugh, then slowly build to tense
paranoia. There are odd elements within the film that are never textually
recognized, such as Tina, the "little old lady" who is actually a man - a
very hairy man, in fact, a man with a beard.
TOMORROW NIGHT is obsessed with statics and dead space. The dialogue is
purposely forced, deliberate, and repetitive. The self-conscious camera
compositions and abrasive, tinny, big-band soundtrack are delightfully
insidious. The retro black-and-white cinematography gives you the feeling
you have crossed over into an alternate future-past, a place where things
aren't quite right.
TOMORROW NIGHT isn't for everyone. I urge those with more pedestrian
tastes to stay home (I have a video copy of The English Patient I've been
using as a doorstop that I can lend you). The more adventurous, however,
won't be disappointed. TOMORROW NIGHT is the cinematic equivalent of an
Andy Kaufman "experiment," the Eraserhead of comedy movies. Come on in.
Sit down.
The ice cream's cold.
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