Drove all night came at dawn to a warm, misty place. Barking dogs and the sound of running water. William S. Burroughs Naked Lunch
Years ago David Cronenberg made a movie of Burroughs’ Naked Lunch. In fact, that’s pretty much where I first heard about Bill. In retrospect, I think that David Lynch might have been a better choice to make the film adaptation of this particular novel. Cronenberg should consider adapting Junky, that would be a hoot and a film that matches his sensibilities, really.
I say Lynch would have made a better version of Naked Lunch mainly based on style. In Naked Lunch Burroughs has no real plot, or even consistent characters. (Barring Dr. Benway, who shows up fairly frequently, but I’m not sure it’s the same Benway, to be honest.) What the book really consists of is a long series of vignettes of increasing alarm and depravity. Each one has its own internal poetry and power, but is not a cohesive whole, nor, do I think, was it meant to be. I’ve discovered that the best way to experience Naked Lunch, the book, is through recordings of Burroughs reading passages of it. Each scene is relatively complete and has its own rhythms that are best expressed through Burroughs nasally drawl.
David Lynch tends to approach filmmaking in this same manner. At least, when left to his own devices Lynch does this. But if we look at something like Lost Highway, we see a man making a movie that is loosely tied together, but is really a long string of striking images and scenarios that are best considered individually, rather than collectively. So, in this respect, Lynch already understands Burroughs’ intentions, and should have little to no trouble conveying them.
And that’s your random literary/film criticism for the day. Tune in tomorrow, when we talk about the next alien abduction and what that means for your workday.