Naked Lunch

Naked Lunch was my real first experience with classic David Cronenberg, and, at first, I wasn't sure what to make of it; granted, some degree of this was by design. However, amidst the surreal confusion, the movie resonated with me. I understand that it an adaptation of a book, one with perhaps a more vexing nature, but I haven't read that, nor was that what impacted me. Sure, Naked Lunch is, in some ways, obscure and nonsensical, but I found the presentation of the narrative and imagery so striking and relatable for me. I have previously read and been fascinated by Kafka's works, by their worlds and their emotive undertones. Naked Lunch feels as though it is the next step in Kafka-esque artistry, translating so many of the images and sensations while heightening the surreal through the use of a visual medium. But more importantly than this, Naked Lunch perfectly encapsulates the cruxes of anxiety, paranoia, and depression with which I am all too familiar. The editing and composition were so evocative of these emotions that, during my first viewing, I kept flipping from feelings of reflective dread and incomprehensible awe. I saw more truth in Naked Lunch than almost any other film. Like Kafka's mortal works, Naked Lunch is filled with ideas and images, many of which fit together into separate arrays, but not so neatly as to encapsulate everything. There is an air of absurdity to every action that clouds the consolidation of the story. In such a way, the movie resembles a game of telephone; every individual scene links up with another one, but through repeated translation, it changes form until it is almost unrecognizable. This form of storytelling allows the film to cover more ground and ideas to include infinitely many partially important tangents without obstructing the whole experience. The speed and diversity of ideas allow for various readings and prevents the movie from pushing a singular ideology or perspective. By throwing so much at the wall, the film sets itself up for success. Not only will different things stick with people but also things will stick with different people. Cronenberg's oeuvre is overflowing with uniquely surreal imagery, concepts, and, most notably, practical effects. Naked Lunch is the perfect vehicle for all of these to shine through, with its unreliable narrator and heavy drug presence. The creature design and interfacing hold up quite remarkably, granted there are a couple of brief moments where it is easier to see the trickery at work. The set design and casting also bring the piece to life; the movie accordions from feeling bustling and expansive to tight and agoraphobic. These alterations aid the feelings of anxiety and paranoia. There is a sense of worldly distrust and grand conspiracy accompanied by that of loneliness and delirium. The film's personality invites you to become invested in its world, cycling through reality and fiction. The two becoming murky as the world's rules are defined. Because of Kafka's stature and self-concept at the time of his death, many of his works remained unfinished. Naked Lunch resembles the disarray and emptiness of these works despite the film's completion. The omnipresence of these sensations suggests dearth is perhaps inherent to the genre. The film is so distinct and charming that I frequently return to it in idle thought. It feels like the projection of a free-flowing thought stream, saying whatever comes to mind. But within this stream, there is the soft pull of an undercurrent of structure and meaning. I don't know if I currently or will ever understand the purpose of it all, nor if I need to. Naked Lunch has provided me a unique sensation and experience. It gives me a snapshot of my life while at the same time providing an escape from it.

With each passing David Cronenberg that I watch, I become convinced that my latest viewing in his filmography may just be the weirdest one yet. Naked Lunch may live up to this billing, at least until I watch another Cronenberg film. What billing is does live up to is that, as of now, it is my favorite film of his. Surreal, dark, and defying interpretation, Naked Lunch is a nut that is not just tough to crack, but it fights back. It is a film that, naively, I believed I had pinned down as we neared the ending. However, the one thing the film left me with, above all else, is to exterminate rational thought. To approach this one rationally is to approach it wrong. It is not a rational film, just as the world around us is highly irrational. It is the job of the writer to capture this irrationality and put it on display, as William Burroughs has so brilliantly done in his semi-autobiographical Naked Lunch. After killing his wife accidentally via "William Tell" trick, William Lee (Peter Weller) begins subconsciously writing a novel at the same time he gets caught up in world of governmental secrets exposed to him by his typewriter, which transforms into a bug. This is brought to his attention when he becomes addicted to a bug killing powder that, as his now deceased wife eloquently explained, "Makes you feel like a bug." Rationally, one could argue that the film is merely a result of his drug use. They are hallucinations, as William believes, that do not really exist. Yet, there is so much evidence that these things do exist that it causes cognitive dissonance. There is no way these things could be real, right? Well, it is a David Cronenberg film, so of course these things could be real. Irrationally, the film makes a lot of sense and its purpose is quite clear. It is semi-autobiographical on the part of Burroughs, who has a drug addict, writer, and convicted of manslaughter for pulling a "William Tell" trick and accidentally shooting his wife in the head. His novel, published in 1959, was incredibly controversial. Yet, in essence, the film is about writing and writers. The gateway to this alternate universe is the typewriter. From there, William receives his missions and, apparently, writes a stellar novel. Writers live in their own minds. To tell a story, one must delve deep within themselves and find a story worth telling that they could visualize. William's tale, therefore, is real. All of it. Every odd encounter is merely part of the writing process and the path his brain takes in order to spit out this novel of his. These visualizations and alternate reality are merely the high given to him by writing and living on the literary edge. Thus, he is addicted to writing and the high he receives from the written word. His world and the film itself is autobiographical of Burroughs beyond the similar life details. Rather, this is his world. Accentuated by drug use, Naked Lunch is the mind of a writer given to other writer's to let them know they are not crazy. Writing is a mad science to a degree and this film articulates the intricacies and oddities that the mind goes through when writing. In essence, writing is a drug that grants you a passport to an alternate reality. Yet, it is a bug that refuses to be exterminated and an itch that simply must be scratched. To expose his story, in Naked Lunch this is Interzone, a writer must go undercover. Yet, he can lose sight of himself and begin to believe in his own cover story. By doing this, he loses sight of reality and of who he actually is in the real world. The fake story, Interzone, is one that he merely experiences and delves into when he needs to write. William realizes that he is losing sight of reality in the film when he cries on the ground after saying goodbye to two friends, fearful that he will never see them again. This fear comes from the knowledge that he is losing sight of reality. The high and power given to him through storytelling is one that makes the real world feel like a poor imitation of the reality he has carved for himself by himself. This is why the writers here are obsessed with their typewriters. It is their needle. Their vial. The instrument used to make them feel real and enter reality once more. As such, it is addictive. The film itself, while defying rational thought, it is also about the extermination of rational thought. Writing enters us into a world of fiction. It defies rational thought and can be surreal. It can depict reality according to the artist. This ties together two scenes in the film. One, the opening where William's two friends are speaking about writing. One argues that rewriting is a must, while the other says it is a sin because it betrays your original thoughts. William says then that all rational thought must be exterminated. Later, Tom Frost (Ian Holm) communicates to William without his lips. His lips say something else as his words talk to him about consciousness and the killing of his wife.