A story of amour fou. Walt is madly in love/lust with a young illegal Mexican immigrant. However, the object of his unrequited affection doesn't even speak any English and finds Walt really... See full summary »
Introspective artist Blake is buckling under the weight of fame, professional obligations and a mounting feeling of isolation. Dwarfed by towering trees, Blake slowly makes his way through dense woods. He scrambles down an embankment to a fresh spring and undresses for a short swim. The next morning he returns to his house, an elegant, if neglected, stone mansion. Many people are looking for Blake--his friends, his managers and record label, even a private detective--but he does not want to be found. In the haze of his final hours, Blake will spend most his time by himself. He avoids the people who are living in his house, who approach him only when they want something, be it money or help with a song. He hides from one concerned friend and turns away another. He visits politely with a stranger from the Yellow Pages sales department, and he ducks into an underground rock club. He wanders through the woods and he plays a new song, one last rock and roll blowout. Finally, alone in the ... Written by
Sujit R. Varma
While the character of Blake is a thinly-veiled analogue of Kurt Cobain, both director Gus Van Sant and actress Asia Argento deny that her character is based on Courtney Love, Cobain's widow. Van Sant and Love are friends in real life, and he expressly avoided any reference to Love in the film, as he considers Cobain's suicide too painful a matter to confront for Love and the rest of Cobain's family to base a film around. Argento also cites the frequent demonization of Love by Cobain's fans as a reason to leave her character out of the film, as the widow has already suffered too much criticism surrounding the death of her husband. See more »
Throughout the film Blake plays guitar both left handed and right handed. (Kurt Cobain - on whom Blake is reportedly based - played left handed.) See more »
Then one day he thought the way to make money there are a lot of people who had exotic backgrounds in vaudeville. There was a Chinese magician named Ching Ling Foo who was doing really well. So Billy Robinson sort of disappeared and he resurfaced as a Chinese magician named Chung Ling Soo. He had his hair cut off and made into a queue you know, one of those long queues at the back of his neck. And he had himself made up look like a Celestial. And he became incredibly well-known performing in ...
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"Last Days", Gus Van Sant's experimental film loosely inspired by Kurt Cobain's, err, last days, is not one of his best, but it's certainly not the worst (the "Psycho" remake, anyone?). Even though it's not half as poignant as the previous "Elephant", which has similar style, I admire Van Sant for daring to make such a personal, non-commercial film. "Last Days" is slow, hard to watch, "boring" as some people say, but that suits a brave attempt to show some moments of a troubled musician, "Blake" (Michael Pitt, from the wonderful "The Dreamers"), who seems completely lost and away from reality, trying to escape from himself in his house, surrounded by "friends" who are only interested in his money. Nothing "happens", like everybody says, throughout the film, and Van Sant partially succeeds in showing us the big empty inside and around Blake with bitter, raw strength. Pitt's performance is low-key at most, and Ricky Jay ("Magnolia") and Lukas Haas ("Witness"), two criminally underrated actors, don't disappoint in their small roles. We can't say anyone in the cast stands out, though, because this is a movie where the scenery (the house, the forest) is the biggest character, eating Blake up.
"Last Days" didn't engage me enough to make me want to re-watch it, but I didn't regret watching it. Far from being a masterpiece, but worth seeing if you're looking for a different option and are interested in the main subject, of course. This is not a movie for a Kelly Clarkson or Lindsay Lohan fan, but please don't say this is the biggest piece of pretentious crap out there - I'm pretty sure Björk|Matthew Barney's "Drawing Restraint 9" is a lot worse.
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