Make no mistake: "Dark Arc" is a strong contender for Worst Movie Ever Made.
Sitting through this tedious, feature-length student film is cruel and unusual punishment indeed, recommended only for masochists or those in need of a nap. The tagline is, "For arrogant bastards only." It should have read, "By an arrogant bastard, with total contempt for his audience, film-making, and the whole of cinema."
The best you can say is that someone got a movie made. Great. But at what cost? No one's ever gonna see it, 'cause it's (hopefully) never gonna get released. So what's the point, Dan? Another ego trip? Final proof that the Tedium is the Message? Is this where you get your literary and intellectual rocks off at the expense of outmoded concepts such as story and characters? Next time, do us all a big favor and keep it to yourself.
Working without a budget, Zukovic -- a B movie actor with a dark, rather intense look -- has produced one of the most ironic films of all time: a picture supposedly about the power of images, but comprised instead of words: hundreds and thousands of them, endlessly recited by somnolent student actors like so much cribbed dialogue from "Altered States," like so many high school English Lit lectures, like so much pseudo-psycho-literary claptrap too pretentious to be included in the current "Plan 9 From Outer Space" heir to the throne, "The Matrix Reloaded." In fact, close your eyes while watching this tour de farce (if you ever do watch it, which I don't advise) and you'll swear you were listening to the hilarious Architect scene from "Matrix Regurgitated" -- possibly the most pretentious scene in the history of film. In fact, it's hard to decide which movie is the more deadly blow to the craft of cinema. But for now, I'm putting my money on "Dark Arc." Sorry, Dan. And you seem like such a nice guy.
Low budget? Has nothing to do with imagination or taste, pal. And speaking of taste, in the first ten minutes we're treated to the lovely sight of a dog taking an enormous crap. Later on we see what look like maggots. Mmmmm.... thanks, Dan. Great work. You took a great, big, steaming dump on all of us, us out here spending two hours of our lives giving you the benefit of a doubt you had a brain in your head or an ounce of talent. I guess the joke's on us. Now pass the vomit bag.
Minimalist acting? Ever since French new-wave and Italian neo-realism, low-key and natural seems to have taken over. Sometimes it works, and -- as proved here -- sometimes not. The robotic line readings on TV shows such as "CSI: Miami" and "Law and Order" are monotonous, to be sure. But those shows also feature something Zukovic forgot all about: a coherent story. (Ed Wood the world's worst director? At least his films never put the audience into a trance.)
From Dustin Hoffman's mono-tonal delivery in "The Graduate" to Ed Norton's hilariously dry performance in "Fight Club," screen acting has obviously changed a lot over the years. Much less seems to be more these days. But while Hoffman and Norton were essentially going for comedy, Zukovic's non- acting is a snooze-inducing endurance test. The director places himself in in nearly every frame, trying desperately for laughs and receiving none, except at his expense. Rapid fire hard-boiled detective patter? Better watch "Maltese Falcon" a few thousand more times, buddy. You just don't seem to be getting it.
This film was advertised as a visual feast. Translation: incoherent story. There may be some point to Zukovic's pink color scheme and erotic imagery, but only the Director knows for sure. Remember, the road to Cinema Hell is paved with people attempting to be deep. Remember "Zardoz"? I rest my case. And at least that had Sean Connery.
Zukovic also pummels us with constant, adolescent sexual imagery, the unicorn apparently his phallus of choice. Leonard Pynth-Garnell, where are you now that we need you?
But whatever its faults -- and there are many -- the most heinous crime is one of storytelling, or lack thereof. Zucovic has zero interest in anything as passé as conflict or drama. No concern for the antiquated notions of a Beginning and End. That Syd Field crap is strictly for squares, right, Dan? And all that formulaic, 3-act garbage Hollywood used to churn out -- you know, predictable trash like "Casablanca" and "Gone With the Wind" and "City Lights" and "It's a Wonderful Life" -- can be thrown right on the top of the Hollywood slag pile, that enormous mound of Cinematic Crap that Oh-So-Profound auteurs like Zukovic would just as soon recycle into guitar pics.
You see, in this 21st Century world of anything-goes experimental Art, we're inventing our own rules, reinventing the cinematic wheel and expounding on heavy subjects such as the Nature of Existence and the Defining Image of Our Lives. Ooohhh, so deep, Dan! Makes me want to go right back to freshman year film classes.
The trouble is, great filmmakers like Godard and Resnais and Antonioni wanted to break the rules, too -- about a half a century ago. So did Eisenstein and Bunuel many years earlier. The difference is, they had talent. And respect for the medium. Breaking the rules isn't the same as ignoring them from the get-go. Picasso painted realistically before going off in experimental directions. Robert Altman shot dozens of traditional TV shows before delving into overlapping dialogue and complex multi-character studies.
"Dark Arc" is being shown at the Egyptian this week as a sidebar screening to its annual Film Noir series. If this movie (or video, since it was projected digitally) is what film noir has somehow come to, God help us all.
And see you in Hell.
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