I devoted one of my posts the other day to news of a limited-time revival of “Ben-Hur,” back on the big screen, courtesy of Fathom Entertainment. The film has been showing at select theaters across the country over the past four days, with today being the last. If you’re at all interested in seeing it in its new 4K restoration, search for theaters in your area by clicking on “get tickets” at https://www.fathomentertainment.com/releases/ben-hur-2026/. Screenings tonight will likely begin sometime between 6:00 and 7:00.
And let me tell you, the film looks great. Also, I don’t know that it’s ever sounded better. Miklós Rózsa’s fanfares and choruses soar, the clatter, thundering horse hoofs, and roar of the crowd during the chariot race thrill, and the earthquake following Jesus’ crucifixion terrifies.
Granted, the film is four hours long (presented with a brief intermission), but it is an absorbing story told on a grand scale. Why, then, was I the ONLY PERSON IN THE THEATER when I saw it last night? I mean, this was the most-decorated film of all-time, with a record-breaking 11 Academy Awards. It was also the highest grossing picture since “Gone with the Wind.” Everything about it is immaculately rendered (no pun intended).
Were people put off because it’s an old movie? By the length? By the religion? Because it was a work night? Here, the film was over by 9:50.
Most likely, they stayed away because it doesn’t have Ryan Gosling in a spaceship. Also, it’s less demanding to stay home and stream “content” as background to scrolling on the phone and texting friends.
If any of these is the case, I feel sorry for those people. But I am also concerned for the future of everything I hold dear. A large segment of the population, it seems, possibly a majority, lacks the curiosity and the attention spans of our parents and grandparents, who might have considered this a deeply satisfying, even transformative night out.
Concerning the religion, “Ben-Hur” is a peculiar movie. On the surface, it has a Christian outlook (Lew Wallace’s book bears the subtitle “A Tale of the Christ”), but the hero, blue-eyed Charlton Heston as the Judean prince Judah Ben-Hur, is proudly Jewish. Of course, the conflict in the film is more political than religious. Ethnic distinctions are drawn mainly along the lines of those in occupied lands who bristle under their Roman conquerors. There’s one scene wherein the Romans make a sneering remark about a proposed chariot race with Judah. “A Jew?” one remarks, incredulously (sponsored by an Arab, no less). But the Romans, in general, are a proud, supercilious lot.
The other day, I mentioned an alleged gay subtext (according to Gore Vidal) in the establishing scene between Judah and his childhood friend, Messala (played by Stephen Boyd), which does exude a certain, unusually ardent quality, though things very quickly go south as the men’s allegiances drive a wedge between them. However, given that Judah’s later relationship with the Roman general Arrius (played by Jack Hawkins) deepens into an equally unguarded affection, it would be easy to chalk it up to simple phileō. This was, after all, the ancient world.
That said, if there’s a more homoerotic mainstream American movie, I can’t think of it. There are half-naked, well-oiled men everywhere. They stop just short of snapping each other with their towels. And if it’s an historical or Biblical epic, you can bet Heston will be standing around in a loin cloth for at least some of it. It must have been in his contract.
The film is adapted from a bestselling novel by Civil War general Lew Wallace, the most-read American novel in the period between “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” and “Gone with the Wind.” Wallace claimed not to be particularly religious at the time he took up his pen, but on completion of the manuscript, he found he had become a believer.
The story is really a mash-up of “The Count of Monte Cristo” and a Jesus movie. Jesus pops in every once in a while, always viewed from the back of the head, as Rózsa’s score strikes a mystic tone. But the film is not really about Jesus, or rather it isn’t JUST about Jesus, as much as it is about getting in touch with your own humanity and embracing your better angels. Yes, the ideals advocated by Jesus point the way, but Judah himself, as a good and thoughtful person, grapples with the complexity and corrupting nature of the impulse to revenge. Heston delivers a nuanced performance, a career best, that conveys much of his character’s conflict and evolution through his thoughts, facial expressions, and physical bearing, as much of it is not explicit in the dialogue, though certainly supported by the compassionate exchanges in Judah’s encounters with Jesus.
Interestingly, Judah recognizes the extraordinary in these silent encounters, but he remains a Jew to the end (as opposed to converting to Christianity). Throughout the film he touches his mezuzah reverently, even tenderly, when entering his house. When his family’s fortunes plummet, still he adjusts the scroll and carefully tends to this symbol of his identity and faith. At a point, he covers his head and prays for forgiveness for his desire to seek vengeance. Whether or not he embraces Christianity beyond the action of the movie is unclear, but I think not. Nevertheless, he is transformed.
In a way, Jesus is an external symbol of Judah’s inner goodness. Or perhaps, putting it another way, Jesus becomes a catalyst for Judah’s self-awareness. A Roman early in the film remarks that Jesus teaches that God exists inside every one of us. (“It’s quite profound, actually,” he adds, with a far-away look.) Whether or not you are a “religious” person, whether you are Jewish or Christian, the film should still work for you. It’s interesting that, for such an earnest, at times histrionic presentation, it manages to satisfy when viewed from multiple perspectives.
Judah’s journey leads him through physical trials and into the emotional abyss. But he does believe in a higher power. He makes it clear several times throughout the film, most especially when he tells Arrius he cannot believe that God would keep him alive in the galleys for three years only to have him drowned at the bottom of the sea.
It’s an inspiring movie, not least of all for all the craftsmanship that went into it. The starfield in the film’s prologue, as the Three Magi travel to Bethlehem to pay homage at the manger, is magical. The kings, captured in profile, are like a Rembrandt brought to life. The stable scene is touchingly reverent, but the chance cavorting of a rambunctious calf saves it from stiffening into sanctimonious kitsch. And then the credits! My god, Miklós Rózsa’s music!
There were no computers back then, remember, so everything you see was made by hand. The sets, the expert matte paintings, the costumes on the cast of thousands. Those nine chariots racing around the arena with their teams of frothing horses are real. Stuntmen risked life and limb, and Heston and Boyd can be seen in some of the shots actually maneuvering their rigs. I know it’s a hackneyed phrase, but they really don’t make ‘em like this anymore!
I should add, the film is not for ironists. It is absolutely in earnest from beginning to end, but as I suggest, it’s open to a range of interpretations. It is the visual equivalent of reading a book. It feels like a literary experience. Whether or not it reflects Wallace’s original in that regard, I cannot say. I have yet to read it, but I’ll get around to it one of these days. For now, and as has been the case for decades, I hold the movie very close.
Heston, Boyd, Hawkins, Finlay Currie (as the king Balthasar), and Frank Thring (who plays Pilate as a consummate politician) have never been better. William Wyler (who was Jewish) was one of the most skilled Hollywood directors of all time. Google him and just look at his credits. He directed all kinds of pictures, from “Wuthering Heights” and “The Heiress” to “Roman Holiday” and “Funny Girl,” with very few of them being less than wholly satisfying. Several of them, including “The Best Years of Our Lives” and “The Big Country,” are among my all-time favorites.
You have one more chance to catch “Ben-Hur” on the big screen in its 4K restoration. I don’t care how good your system is at home. Watching it on your couch with distractions of the phone, the refrigerator, and easy access to a bathroom is not the same experience. Go, and prepare to be overwhelmed.
Tag: Film
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Is There Still an Audience for “Ben-Hur”?
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Korngold is King in “Kings Row”
Anyone familiar with the main title music from “Star Wars” – and who isn’t? – will recognize a spiritual kinship with “Kings Row” (1942). This week on “Picture Perfect, we’ll hear an extensive suite from one of Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s most magnificent scores, one of John Williams’ acknowledged influences.
The settings of the two films couldn’t be more different – “Kings Row’s” struggle of decency against sinister impulses takes place in a small Midwestern town – but Korngold’s opulently orchestrated music brims with romance and heroism. Check out that opening fanfare!
Although he was one of the great musical prodigies – celebrated in Vienna in his teens and 20s, especially for his operas – Korngold’s name was kept alive for decades after his death largely because of his work on a number of classic Warner Bros. films of the 1930s and ’40s. His music for the Errol Flynn swashbucklers has been particularly well-loved.
He had already written music for “Captain Blood,” “The Prince and the Pauper,” “The Adventures of Robin Hood,” “The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex,” and “The Sea Hawk” by the time he was offered work on “Kings Row.” Without knowing anything more about the project than the title, he commenced writing the main theme, on the assumption that the film would be yet another historical adventure. In reality, it was a turn-of-the-century soap opera based in America’s heartland.
Korngold’s approach couldn’t have been more fortuitous, since it led him to compose one of his grandest motifs. It punctuates the action of the film as if it were a cinematic “Ein Heldenleben” – which should come as little surprise, since Korngold actually knew Richard Strauss.
“Kings Row” was based on the bestselling novel by Henry Bellamann. The book reveals a kind of dark underbelly to the civility of small-town American life. The subject matter was ahead of its time, laying the groundwork for the novel “Peyton Place,” the film “Blue Velvet,” and television series such as “Twin Peaks” and “Desperate Housewives.” Yet at its core is the fundamental decency of its protagonist, Parris Mitchell, and his circle of friends. It is Mitchell’s ambition to become a doctor, and he heads to Vienna to study a new branch of science known as psychology.
Mitchell was played in the film by Robert Cummings, his best friend Drake by Ronald Reagan, and Randy, a former tomboy from a family of railroad workers, by Ann Sheridan, who received top billing. The studio filled out the cast with a superb ensemble, including Claude Rains, Judith Anderson, Charles Coburn, Harry Davenport, and even Maria Ouspenskaya, best known as Maleva the gypsy woman from “The Wolf Man.”
It’s a grand piece of entertainment, if you can get into the spirit of it, depending on your tolerance for incest, sadism, involuntary amputation, wrongful commitment to an insane asylum and suicide. This is the film in which Reagan exclaims the immortal line, “Where’s the rest of me?”
Thanks to the Hays Code, the screen adaptation was considerably toned down from – and more upbeat than – the novel. The emphasis is on Mitchell’s idealism in the face of a cruel, and at times horrifying, world. Along the way, there are several amusing (from our perspective) explanations of that mysterious new discipline, the study of the mind.
I hope you’ll join me for an hour of music from “Kings Row,” by the King of Film Composers, Erich Wolfgang Korngold, on “Picture Perfect,” music from the movies, now in syndication on KWAX, the radio station of the University of Oregon!
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Clip and save the start times for all three of my recorded shows:
PICTURE PERFECT, the movie music show – Friday at 8:00 PM EST/5:00 PM PST
SWEETNESS AND LIGHT, the light music program – Saturday at 11:00 AM EST/8:00 AM PST
THE LOST CHORD, unusual and neglected rep – Saturday at 7:00 PM EST/4:00 PM PST
Stream them, wherever you are, at the link!
https://kwax.uoregon.edu/ -
The Devil and Rutger Hauer
Has anyone seen this?
The premise reminds me of J. Meade Falkner’s “The Lost Stradivarius” (1895), which I finally got around to reading only a few years ago. Except in that one, the violin summons the spirit of a profligate as opposed to the Antichrist. Points then, for the film swinging for the fences.
Rutger Hauer as a Satanic composer? I’m in!
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Oscars Nostalgia & Unexpected Highlights
I didn’t really have a lot of skin in the game for this year’s Academy Awards. I only saw three of the films nominated for Best Picture. (Last year, for the first time in years, I managed to see everything.) But I love “the movies” – by which I mean, not necessarily this year’s nominated films, but the more general embrace of an entertainment and, at its best, an art form I have appreciated for as long as I can remember.
The Academy Awards were always a big deal in my house when I was growing up, with my stepfather and I, in particular, being big film buffs, and the family would always gather around the television to take in the broadcast, predict the winners, and chow down on quite the extensive spread of hors d’oeuvres. So, for me, the Oscars will always have that extra layer of nostalgic association. Last night, I checked in with my stepdad beforehand (there’s no extraneous talking during the Oscars!), and at 83, he was still planning to watch – and to eat.
Of course, over time the movies have evolved, and not always in ways that I particularly enjoy. And my reactions to the Oscars have gotten a little more complicated.
This year’s broadcast didn’t offer the consistent “feels” of 2023, for me the recent high-water mark, after I swore off Oscar for a couple of years, I think beginning in 2020. You may recall that the 2023 ceremony was chock-full of engaging comeback stories and long-deferred rewards, with Ke Huy Kwan, Michelle Yeoh, Brendan Fraser, and Jamie Lee Curtis all winners. Now that was a compelling show! This year, of the big four, only Zoe Saldaña managed to really stir.
And last year, of course, we had the whole Barbenheimer phenomenon, which, regardless of what you may have thought about “Barbie” and “Oppenheimer,” was at least a genuine pop cultural moment that centered around movies, on a scale which I hadn’t experienced in decades.
Where this year’s ceremony satisfied, and surprised most pleasantly, was in its uncomplicated embrace of Oscar tradition. I don’t know where it came from, but this year, for once, I feel like the producers were coming at it from the right place, with plenty of nods to the sweet spots of Oscar broadcasts of yore: film clips and montages, salutes to different genres of film, production numbers rooted in Hollywood and Broadway standards, and an orchestra, frequently visible and literally elevated, in the hall.
When the orchestra played into commercial breaks, the overripe “Vegas showroom” arrangements did not seem like nostalgic pandering. Rather, they conjured a pleasurable sense of continuity. If I had nodded off during a three-and-a-half hour Oscars broadcast in the 1990s and woken up in the middle of this one, the tone would have been fairly consistent. Of course, I would have recognized a lot more people in the audience back then and the movies would have been totally different.
Thank god, they finally figured out how to get back to doing a solid “In Memoriam” segment. After several years of overly-intrusive, cross-cutting camera work that seemed more interested in the live performers than it was on those being honored – the actual clips of whom to all appearances were assembled by a hyper-caffeinated editor – this year was right in the Goldilocks zone. For an attentive viewer, it was at least possible to take in all the pertinent information and to feel a pang of loss.
Ironically, a lot of the credit probably goes to Mozart, as the chosen music bed, from the composer’s Requiem, which involved a choir (the Los Angeles Master Chorale), and therefore likely reined in the temptation, and indeed eliminated the necessity, to focus on any star performers. This would be Mozart’s biggest night at the Oscars since 1985, when the Academy showered statuettes on “Amadeus.” From a musical standpoint, it might have been Mozart’s biggest night ever, as I’m not sure he ever before enjoyed a simultaneous audience of tens of millions around the world.
The planning for the segment had to have been in the works for weeks beforehand, but it was as if everyone fell into lockstep for fear of retribution from the ghost of Gene Hackman. While Hackman would have been a last-minute addition to a year that, cumulatively speaking, proved to be one of staggering creative loss (including Maggie Smith, Donald Sutherland, James Earl Jones, and David Lynch, among many others), there was no evidence that a few extra clips had been slapped on to the end. Morgan Freeman provided a spoken prelude to the segment, remembering his friend. Hackman’s image (from “Wyatt Earp,” not “Unforgiven,” as so many seem to think) was present throughout.
Also honored last night was Quincy Jones, who we lost in November at the age of 91. Oprah Winfrey and Whoopi Goldberg, who were discovered by Jones for the first film adaptation of “The Color Purple,” directed by Steven Spielberg in 1985, introduced the segment, and Queen Latifah performed “Ease on Down the Road” from “The Wiz.”
The show opened with a montage of movie clips from films set in L.A., as a tribute to the city, recently beleaguered, like too much of California, by wildfires. (A web address for donations to a disaster relief fund was posted several times throughout the broadcast.) The montage was the kind of thing I always loved about the Oscars of decades past, when the ceremony, in general, was more cognizant of the history of the industry (even if some of the actors still seemed pretty clueless, even back then). Initiated by three clicks of Dorothy Gale’s ruby slippers (Oz was another recurring motif, and a welcome one, throughout the evening), the salute ran about a minute, and most of the films would have been recognized by modern audiences. I think the earliest one was from “Chinatown,” released in 1974. But “La La Land” was more the speed. Still, any montage that includes “The Big Lebowski” and Steve Martin’s “L.A. Story” earns bonus points with me.
This was followed by Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo (both nominated for “Wicked”) performing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” (Grande), “Home” from “The Wiz” (Erivo), and “Defying Gravity” (both of them) from their “Wizard of Oz” prequel. This was pitch-perfect in tone and a welcome throwback to the Oscar ceremonies I loved. They allowed plenty of space to breath, with time for reflection and perhaps even a little emotion.
As I’ve suggested, the evening conjured plenty of memories of Oscar’s better days. Without overtly referencing past ceremonies, the spirit of the show was classic, including a James Bond tribute (I’m not saying that it was good, but it was definitely Oscar) that reminded me of Sheena Easton singing “For Your Eyes Only” in 1982. I remember thinking the earlier production number was pretty lame – or at least the choreography was – but also pretty cool, because it resurrected some classic Bond villains for cameos. The timing for last night’s tribute, allegedly to the franchise’s longtime producers, Barbara Broccoli and Michael G. Wilson, was a little awkward, coming as it did right on the coattails of the news that the rights to Bond had been sold to Amazon for something like a billion dollars. (I’m not kidding.) Is there even that much money in the world? Priorities, people…
In any case, it was a nice gesture, even if the singers didn’t always live up to their iconic predecessors. I never heard of Lisa, Raye, or Doja Cat, but they sure did make me miss Shirley Bassey.
I do wonder if the organizers realized too late their miscalculation in playing Mark Hamill on to “Star Wars” to introduce this year’s nominees for Best Original Score. It reminds me of my own unintended insensitivity when I played a professional recording of Mussorgsky’s “Pictures at an Exhibition” for a niece, who had just performed an arrangement of “The Great Gate of Kiev” with her school orchestra. How’s a kid suppose to live up to that? So it was with this year’s music nominees when placed beside the impossible standard of John Williams.
The winner of the award was Daniel Blumberg, recognized for his work on “The Brutalist.” A strange looking dude with an awkward presence, Blumberg, who is the former frontman for indie rock band Yuck (yes, you read that correctly), in two minutes channeled Nosferatu better than director Robert Eggers did in two hours.
Best Original Song went to Camille & Clément Ducol for “El Mal,” from “Emilia Perez,” really a non-song which in the film really glides on its execution. The couple was also nominated for “Mi Camino,” also from “Emilia Perez.” For anodyne as it is (it’s played as a karaoke number in the movie), at least it sounds like an actual song. But this has hardly been my category of expertise since the mid-20th century.
Two of the nominated films were actually about music: “Instruments of a Beating Heart,” about a Japanese schoolgirl who aspires to play the cymbal in a performance of Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy,” and “The Only Girl in the Orchestra,” about double-bassist Orin O’Brien, hired by Leonard Bernstein in 1966 as the first female musician in the New York Philharmonic. (Producer-director Molly O’Brien, who may have forgotten her blouse, is Orin’s niece.) Both were previously unknown to me, as nominees in the category of Best Documentary Short Film. (“The Only Girl in the Orchestra” won.) Shame on me, as “The Last Repair Shop,” last year’s winner, was one of the most moving films of 2024.
Like many people, I suspect, I wind up mopping up the shorts that look interesting to me after learning of them at the ceremony. It’s not something I plan. I just get swept up into the “buzz” tide, and these smaller films receive next to no publicity. It’s a matter of out of sight, out of mind. It’s too bad, since independent projects are invariably made by passionate, dedicated filmmakers with fire in their bellies, who will never enjoy the celebrity of Martin Scorsese or Christopher Nolan. Often those in the crew resort to guerilla methods and wear multiple hats.
While we’re on the subject, can the Academy please stop playing off these filmmakers, who in their moment of glory have 30 seconds to divvy-up between them so that they can make multiple brief acceptance speeches? I’d rather they hold firm on the meandering if well-intentioned Adrien Brody. I’m all in favor of spontaneity, or the appearance of spontaneity, over reading from a slip of paper in a shaky hand, but for godsake, man, tighten it up a little bit.
I like Conan O’Brien fine. I can jibe with his quirky humor. (One of the better bits of the night had no dialogue: during one of the commercial bumpers, Conan, with an assembled crew, stands in profile with a pipe in his mouth and a pointer in his hand before a map of Europe. Few others would find that funny, but as someone who has seen more than his share of British war movies, it tickled me.)
That said, Conan’s awkward presence doesn’t really seem suited to the format. He’s not as smooth and assured as Jimmy Kimmel. He reminded me a bit of when David Letterman hosted in 1995 and was critically lambasted. I enjoyed that show too and found Letterman entertaining, but he was not the best fit for the much larger Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. Both of these guys are better suited to the cozier confines of a talk show desk. That said, if Conan were asked to come back next year, I’d be good with it. Kudos to him for hosting representatives of the L.A. firefighters to accept some applause and to stand in to tell some pretty good jokes.
The producers of the show must have sensed Conan’s quirky incompatibility from the start, as rather than going directly to his monologue, by way of a squirm-inducing bit with the comedian crawling out of a fissure in Demi Moore’s back (achieved using borrowed footage from “The Substance”), they launched with the L.A. salute and then went right into the “Oz” medley. Johnny Carson, who hosted the Oscars five times, was a better fit, and Kimmel at four, is the probably the best we’ve got now. I agree with Conan that Billy Crystal was the best Oscars host ever, at least since I’ve been watching (basically my entire life), and it was good to see Crystal at the end of the night, even if he didn’t have much to do other than hand out the Best Picture award with Meg Ryan. You could tell he could do the show again in a heartbeat, except there’s no way he would ever bring the demographic the Academy is hoping for. (Not that anyone else would.)
It’s sobering to think that the Academy would regard Crystal and Ryan as Hollywood elder statesmen. It seems like just yesterday we were getting Laurence Olivier or Kirk Douglas. Though now that I think about it, the other year we did get Warren Beatty and Faye Dunaway. That was the year of the “La La Land”/”Moonlight” envelope mix-up…
Recipient of the Kennedy Center’s Mark Twain Award for American Humor (!) Adam Sandler’s cameo was more horrifying than anything in “The Substance,” and furthermore sent the wrong message during a show which demonstrated, with its honorees coming from so many different nations and backgrounds, inclusivity. (Hey, Conan! Lay off Estonia!) And Conan’s production number about not wasting time took me back to the more inane moments of Seth MacFarlane’s hosting gig in 2013. (Interestingly, MacFarlane created “The Family Guy,” and Conan wrote for “The Simpsons.”) But there was also a recurring bit with John Lithgow, which, while not hilarious, at least involved John Lithgow.
At a point, Ennio and Andrea Morricone’s music for “Cinema Paradiso” was used to play on some award presenters (who exactly escapes me at the moment). Chopin, whose music features throughout “A Real Pain,” was played when Kieran Culkin rose to accept his Oscar for Best Supporting Actor.
It was nice to see so many of the smaller films honored. Again, let’s hear it for real musicians in the theater – with a special shout-out to the (Juilliard trained) sandworm from “Dune II” who got two solos!
Congratulations to all the winners and good work on the part of all the nominees!
PHOTOS: Daniel Blumberg, reflecting on the plague rats pouring from his coffin (top); and sandworm gets a harp solo
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David Lynch R.I.P. Philadelphia Nightmare
I remember first encountering David Lynch’s “Eraserhead” (1977) at the midnight movies as a teenager in the early ‘80s and thinking WTF? And this was before WTF was even a thing. As an acronym, I mean. Being a teenager, I was delighted by the film’s surreal, anxious vibe, of course. Wouldn’t you know it, its sensibility was shaped by the young director’s experiences living in Philadelphia while he attended the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts. Had I only taken it as the warning it should have been, as I myself wound up living in that hell hole for 32 years!
[Note to self: Save that paragraph for the opening of my autobiography.]
This corn-fed Boy Scout from Missoula, Montana, blossomed into one the most unique and influential voices in American cinema. Lynch came to Philadelphia as an aspiring visual artist; he left with a lifetime supply of nightmare imagery, uneasy energy, and offbeat humor. In fact, on at least one occasion, he described the city as a virtual portal to hell.
“It wasn’t a normal city…,” Lynch recalled. “The fear, insanity, corruption, filth, despair, violence in the air was so beautiful to me.”
[Well, he had me until the beautiful part.]
For the movies, Lynch went on to direct “Blue Velvet” (1986), “Wild at Heart” (1990), “Lost Highway” (1997), and “Mulholland Drive” (2001), with a special shout-out to “The Straight Story” (1999), perhaps his most peculiar project, in that it was made for Disney and there is nothing in it to frighten the horses. In fact, it’s a rather touching film. For television, he created the cult classic “Twin Peaks” (1990-91).
He never lost his “aw shucks” demeanor. Mel Brooks, who produced Lynch’s “The Elephant Man” (1980), described him as Jimmy Stewart from Mars. At one point, George Lucas offered him the opportunity to direct “Return of the Jedi.” If you saw Lynch’s “Dune” (1984), I think you have a pretty good idea how that would have gone.
He was nominated for three Academy Awards for Best Director and received an honorary Oscar in 2019. He had such a distinctive style, it could only be described as… Lynchian.
Lynch had an amusing cameo as crusty director John Ford in Steven Spielberg’s “The Fabelmans” (2022). More recently, he struggled with emphysema after years as a smoker.
At the time of his death, he was 78 years-old.
“I’ve said many, many, many unkind things about Philadelphia, and I meant every one.”
Me too, David. R.I.P.
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