Twentynine Palms

My initial one line review for this film:

"There are wannabe Vincent Gallo movies now?"

This of course in reference to the Brown Bunny-level scorched physical and psychic earth of Twentynine Palms (two films that once you start you have to watch until their sick payoffs). But the truth is I have continued to think about M. Dumont's opus over the last few days (at one point reflexively recoiled when I heard a man say the name "Katya"). Mostly I have pondered the question: could Dumont actually be more full of himself than Gallo?


I know this seems impossible. But there is a moment in the Twentynine Palms commentary where Dumont "questions" his own decision to include the shot below in the film because it is "too artistic." Because you never want any art to sneak into your movies.


This is not to say that Gallo isn't trying to be more ridiculous. Personally I have high hopes for his new film about undertakers, which features Sylvester Stallone's son, Sage Moonblood Stallone, playing "The Guru."