McKay While the Sun Shines: FFC Interviews Jim McKay
April 19, 2002|With a background in BBC television as well as two well-regarded short features under his belt (Doom and Gloom (1996) and Wet and Dry (1997)), John McKay’s uneven and somewhat inauspicious feature-length debut Crush has garnered a slew of bad reviews until the only reviewers that really matter to most of North America, Ebert and Roeper, chimed in with their golden digits upraised. Yet the problems of the film remain unsolved by that increasingly devalued ascription of merit: what begins as something along the lines of Four Weddings and a Funeral takes a funereal turn into punitive plot twists and a general misanthropy at its conclusion. The tonal shift is one thing, the eleventh-hour attempt to gloss over what’s happened as something forgivable and perversely light-hearted is another altogether.

David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive contends that the answer to the eternal struggle between what is real and what is fantasy comes in the form of a Keatsian confusion–it’s the difference between Adam’s dream and Eve rendered flesh, blurred in the mind of the creator and his audience. A film is a dream of the director made tangible, a conceit familiar from the fourth-wall-breaking in Ingmar Bergman’s Persona (banishing any mystery there might have been regarding the visual references to that film in Lynch’s piece), and a movie’s characters therefore become projections of its maker’s sublimated longing (clarifying too the auteur’s use of wardrobe and colour schemes from Hitchcock’s meditation on objectification, Vertigo, as well as those of his first collaboration with inamorata Tippi Hedren, The Birds).