nathansnook

The Day of the Locust

Sensational. Perhaps the greatest film about failure. With the way I distract myself, I’ll get nowhere. True love. Lust. “𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘶𝘱 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦?” A representation of the roaches of Hollywood. Portraying the weak, sick, and vulnerable. The losers. Everything looks powdered. Over. To cover up the decay and demise of those who yearn. Even the romance that forms, heavy in exposition, molds dark from the very beginning, already seeking out its own end. Everything is rotten here. Exposed and yellow. Even the strawberries here look disgusting. Ice cream down the drain. The dance after the ice cream down the drain is one that is uncomfortable. Is the very experience of this film. Wanting to turn away from a tragic yet beautiful fire. “𝘊𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦. 𝘗𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥.” And then the film burns itself to nothingness. Quite literally. Into nightmare. Into the inescapable rot that comes with the glitz and glamor. I think of the burns of Eve Babits. I think of Sharon Tate. I think of all the pretty little people wanting to make a name for themselves only to find that they had never had one to begin with.