An Innuit hunter races his sled home with a fresh-caught halibut. This fish pervades the entire film, in real and imaginary form. Meanwhile, Axel tags fish in New York as a naturalist's ... See full summary »
Suffering from writer's block and eagerly awaiting his writing award, Harry Block remembers events from his past and scenes from his best-selling books as characters, real and fictional, come back to haunt him.
An Innuit hunter races his sled home with a fresh-caught halibut. This fish pervades the entire film, in real and imaginary form. Meanwhile, Axel tags fish in New York as a naturalist's gofer. He's happy there, but a messenger arrives to bring him to Arizona for his uncle's wedding. It's a ruse to get Axel into the family business. In Arizona, Axel meets two odd women: vivacious, needy, and plagued by neuroses and familial discord. He gets romantically involved with one, while the other, rich but depressed, plays accordion tunes to a gaggle of pet turtles. Written by
Greg Pribyl <email@example.com>
Having seen this movie, I felt rather strange. This bubbly feeling in my gut kept me up in the night. I felt I had to do something for this film, confess my love in a letter, send it flowers, buy it Champagne. It left me gasping. I wanted more. So the rest of the night I watched the special features on the DVD.
I realise that it is sad to have emotions about a film that would usually be reserved for living beings, however I am completely unashamed. If this movie was a man, I'd do unspeakable things to it. I don't care what it's "about". I don't give a monkey's about any "plot" that it may or may not have. I have not searched for anything that everybody conditioned to Hollywood films, however good or bad they may be, inevitably searches for in a film. Why do you need to be spoonfed? Can you not just completely let go and enjoy a work of art for its mere beauty?
Sorry, journeying into pretentious land.
This is undoubtedly my absolute favourite Johnny Depp film, it used to be a toss up between Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Dead Man, but I admit that this surpasses them by a fraction. I'd actually like to say that I preferred Dead Man, but I, um, didn't. Sorry. I feel I have cheated on Dead Man.
There are certain scenes in Arizona Dream that show things about Johnny Depp as a performer that I never would have suspected. In this film he stepped into a realm shared by characters in the films of Fellini and Brunuel. It pleases me that he can do art house as fantastically as this and do mainstream as well, although I do not entirely approve of the stuff that is too mainstream (I.E. Pirates).
His character is beautifully complex, he is a kook, but a sexy kook, and he is everything else besides. The other performances are also wonderful. Gallo is a nutcase, Taylor needs therapy, Dunaway is at the same time tyrannical and naive. Sure the characters contradict themselves, but don't we? It just keeps it all the more desirable and fascinating.
For anybody who appreciates surrealist art, this is a must see. For anybody who appreciates Johnny Depp, there is no question that this film is absolutely essential.
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