Naked Lunch (1991)

Too much of everything

People are voting emotionally.

hyped garbage

Strong acting helps the film overcome an uncertain premise and create characters that hold our attention absolutely.

Perhaps too surrealistic for my provincial taste, this just left me cold and disgusted by its hideous use of revolting visuals to represent all sorts of symbolic repression. "Robo Cop" Peter Weller is a rather dour exterminator with writing ambitions whose wife finds herself addicted to his particular kind of bug spray. She takes him on a trip which results in his going on the run for her murder and facing psychological retribution for his latent and often poetic attempts to avoid his homosexuality. This brings him from gay old New York to exotic and perverted Morocco where the bug powder is overflowing and young boys seem available on every street corner...inside the Casbah.Disgusting but often fascinating visually, this was mesmerizing for its avant garde performances especially Weller, Judy Davis (in multiple roles), Roy Schneider and Ian Holm. A very pretty Julian Sands is enticing as one of Weller's possible liaisons. But every time I get drawn into the underlying themes, I find myself turning away every time a huge bug appears, especially one which appears to talk through its anus. The most revolting moment happens when Weller comes across Sands ravishing the sweet young street boy inside a cage, seemingly devouring him like a preying mantis. Whether an analogy of the dangers of drug use or perverted sexuality, this takes time to grab the average audience not expecting such an emotionally exhausting pseudo film noir. During my days working at a video store, I knew that David Cronenberg's movies would be a feast for the eyes yet psychologically challenging, and having avoided this one for years I prove myself to be right. It's ironic that living in New York I have no problem killing a bug even with my bare hand, but watching what goes on in this film just left me repulsed. Watching this while studying the work of the remarkable Judy Davis, I noticed how much even at this point in her career that she resembles Judy Garland when she was immortalized playing her in a brilliant television movie. But this is closer to her black comedy of the same time, "Barton Fink", and well I could get through that film with no issue, it took all the patience in the world for me to make it through the end of this. I did get a kick out of one strangle looking creature which reminded me of "The Tingler".

I think Naked Lunch is one of the best movies I have ever seen (I've seen a lot of them). The film is based on the book "Naked Lunch" by William S. Burroughs. For yet with books by this author I do not know, but I think in the future, be sure to read his work. Filming a movie based on the book of the eccentric writer, Canadian director David Cronenberg, prone in his work to the constant shocking, decided to mix with original work of reference to the rest of creation of the author, as well as elements of the biographyWilliam Burroughs. Get in the end surreal mixture is able to confuse anyone.

Naked Lunch is definitely the kind of flick that'll get most "thinking" people either burping, or farting, or, most likely, doing both at the same time, long before the picture is even over the rainbow. I'm not kidding.Naked Lunch is gastronomical! It's when you stop to consider that one of the main characters in Naked Lunch is in actuality a "talking" sphincter (it's true), that this will excuse any foul response to this poor-excuse-of-a-movie, without any apologies required.I have to say that it was actually really comical at times when this babbling butt-hole and Bill (Peter Weller) were engaged in one of their many screwy conversations, or whatever. I mean, what, in the hell, are you supposed to say to a sphincter? Go ahead! Try talking to your own sometime and see what kind of a response you inevitably get from it.It did kind of strike me ironically that, here in Naked Lunch, it just happened to be this extremely vocal arsehole who was calling all the shots with Bill, ordering him around, and telling him to do this and that. Yeah, irony-of-ironies, Bill, a grown man, is being bossed and bullied around by, of all things, Sir Admiral Anus . It's, naturally, all fun and games at first, but, typically, as novelties often go, this gabbing, little Corn-hole gets to be a total pain-in the-butt (literally) after a short while.It took (of all the lopsided-minds in this world) the most whacked-out one of them all (director, David Cronenberg) to bring Naked Lunch to the big screen. Any idiot with half a brain in his head could have told this nut (which I'm sure they did) that the William Burroughs' novel of the same name was impossible to film. But, Cronenberg, believing himself to be creating the work of a genius from the work of another genius forged ahead like a real, little trooper and produced an utterly awful film. Bravo, Cronenberg! You can have your Naked Lunch, and eat it, too.I won't even try to outline the ludicrous plot of Naked Lunch, 'cause, let's face it, there ain't one. In that way it's exactly on par with the Burroughs' novel.Right from the start Naked Lunch is absolutely nonsensical to the nth degree. The story runs off in so many different tangents, seemingly all at once, that it will make your poor, little head spin-spin-spin. I'd confidently say that you'd probably have more luck getting a clear story just talking to your own sphincter, rather than try to piece together Naked Lunch's rectal-mess.So, as I suggest, leave all your worldly troubles behind you and come on down to the Breakfast Club where they're serving a scrumptious Naked Lunch for your Last Supper.

I generally love Cronenberg's films. They (generally) have a unique, dark, hallucinogenic sensibility that is often compared to David Lynch, but characteristically differ from David Lynch's films in that they often get progressively weirder as they go, constructing their own logic and drawing the viewer further and further from what (s)he expects to see in cinema.Naked Lunch is the only exception I've seen so far. Though the first 30 minutes or so suggest something familiar from his previous films, the rest of the film is too obvious in its intentions (namely, a figurative discussion of the writing process and of Burroughs himself), with no surprises or additional weird stuff being introduced. All the weird stuff gets introduced in the first 30 minutes, and then the "rabbit hole" feeling disappears.There's nothing wrong with that, I guess, if you are a fan of Burroughs, or, alternatively, if you AREN'T a fan of Cronenberg. That is, this movie, while certainly pretty disgusting and weird relative to mainstream films, is actually pretty generic in its artistic sensibilities. It uses metaphors which are easy to interpret and nests social commentary in its dialogue in a way that is easy to recognize.I wanted a movie that would challenge me, confuse me, and unsettle me more and more as it progressed. Instead, I started yawning and fast-forwarding as the same metaphors were recycled over and over. Again, this is fine from the standpoint of traditional art and narrative construction, but I expect Cronenberg's films to go beyond what I am able to interpret. No such luck here.