Inherent Niche
Earlier this year, after what seems like a lifetime of delays, cancellations, and reschedules, It Follows (2014) director David Robert Mitchell’s newest film, Under the Silver Lake (2018) finally dropped. And within two months, the film has found its new home, in the deep end of Amazon Prime’s streaming catalogue . The film is the story of 33 year old perpetually inebriated slacker, Sam, as he scours the weird underbelly of Los Angeles in search of Sarah, the cute girl-next-door who has suddenly gone missing. The film is the latest to emerge in a genre I will aptly call “stonoire,” a subgenre of noir that combines dense Raymond Chandler-esque mystery stories with the offbeat humor and absurdism expected from the stoner genre. Over the years, this subgenre of noir has produced films such as the Coen Brothers’ The Big Lebowski (1998), and Paul Thomas Anderson’s Inherent Vice (2014), both being films that initially divided audiences only to be welcomed in open arms by the world of cult film fandom. Under the Silver Lake certainly continues that trend of initial divide, as the film seems to be so polarizing that it divides audiences into two camps; absolutely love it, or absolutely loathe it. So what is it about this type of story that leads to this kind of divide? Well to answer that question, we must first trace the subgenre back to its hazy beginnings.
While elements of this kind of story can be traced back to the Raymond Chandler adaptations that helped kickstart the Hollywood machine back in the 1930’s, the Big Lebowski was the flagship film that brought all of these elements together to form a coherent subgenre. Lebowski offers a unique blend of comedy and mystery that doubles as a detective thriller and a commentary on societal trends. Our protagonist, the ever likeable “Dude,” is a zen slacker who lets the world wash over him like waves on a beach. This blend of passive protagonist hardly feels at home in a detective story, but the fish out of water elements at play here offer countless opportunities for slow burn comedy that have undoubtedly helped Lebowski’s longevity. But another part of the lasting appeal of Lebowski is the social commentary packed under the absurdity. The Dude’s apathy towards things like wealth, status, and power throughout the story underlines the Coens’ ever present themes of nihilism, tying it all together in the cyclical metaphor of bowling. It’s one of those rare films that benefits from repeat viewings, but its absurd, borderline esoteric sense of comedy keeps each viewing fresh and funny. The film’s hidden density played a large factor in its poor box office performance. But as the years went on and the high of Lebowski started to settle in with the rest of the world, it became a bona fide classic with both the world of cult filmgoers.
The Big Lebowski (1998), Dir. Ethan & Joel Coen
In the years that followed Lebowski, the film world, and the world at large, underwent a rapid change that ultimately resulted in a society fit “ready” for Lebowski. The post 9/11 world was becoming increasingly cynical, weary to any attempt at Hollywood made at instilling emotion and sentiment. This, coupled with the increased connectivity of an emerging digital world, gave birth to a new blend of media consumer. This new consumer, more in tune to how the sausage is made, sought complexity. This new arena for media consumption took in Lebowski with open arms, and by the 2010’s, the film had become not only revered among its cult following, but among more traditional film buffs. In March of 2010, titan of film criticism Roger Ebert added Lebowski to his “Great Movies” collection, elevating his previous score of ¾ stars to the full 4. It had taken over a decade, but the world had finally seen Lebowski for what it truly was.
By the time the 2010’s had swung in, the blossoming cynicism of the post 9/11 world had started to sprout into full blown paranoia. The interconnectedness of the digital age showed everyone just how horrible the world could be. Increasing acts of terrorism around the world and the ensuing rat race between competing news outlets to get their version of the story out there first started to form a distrust between the media and the people. With the increasing ease of media manipulation, a shadow of a doubt emerged in the public consciousness with every emerging news story. Filmmaker Paul Thomas Anderson, fresh off the critical successes of There Will Be Blood (2009) and The Master (2012), sought to tackle this emerging paranoia with his next film; an adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s 2009 novel, Inherent Vice. The story follows Doc Sportello, a private detective living on the beaches of Southern California during the dawn of the 1970’s, when Manson induced paranoia was in full swing. The film follows the book’s labyrinthian plot, in which Doc comes to the aid of his former girlfriend, who needs help foiling a plot to send her new boyfriend, a real estate mogul, into the looney bin.
Inherent Vice, in many ways, acted as a spiritual successor to Lebowski. Both feature lead characters smoking their way through a mystery that becomes increasingly dense with each revelation. Both feature colorful supporting characters that provide a lot of the comedy through their interactions with the protagonist. Both feature an America in transition; Lebowski with the transition from the Reagan era into the 90’s, and Vice with the transition from the “flower power” of the 1960’s and into the post Manson world.
Inherent Vice (2014), dir. Paul Thomas Anderson
Where Vice differs, however, is in its execution. Lebowski used its comedy to unearth the philosophy underneath, and Vice uses its philosophy to unearth the comedy. Inherent Vice leans a lot heavier into its time period than Lebowski does. It’s hard to even remember Lebowski as a period piece; the film took place in 1991 while being released in 1998, so the “periodness” of it was lost to the audience at the time. Inherent Vice from the get-go paints the post Manson world as an era of rapid and sudden change. Housing developments are gentrifying the hippie stuffed beaches. Fear of satanic cults have made their way into the execution of law enforcement. Marijuana has fell by the wayside in favor of heroin. The film is fascinated with the culture clash of the tenacious hippies trying to keep the 60’s alive, and the brute force of the 70’s kicking in the door. It’s these culture crashes that create the comedy. One of the funniest scenes of the film comes from Doc Sportello watching in confused awe as Detective “Bigfoot” Bjornsen kicks in Sportello’s door and eats all of his marijuana. This style of comedy, while leaning a little harder on absurd in comparison to Lebowski, results in a film that left moviegoers puzzled, and the cult fandom enthralled.
While Inherent Vice was a commercial flop, its place among film critics was immediately recognized. Critics praised the film as the next evolution in the emerging genre that Lebowski had paved before, and the film even managed to make it onto the BBC’s critic poll of the “100 Greatest Films of the 21st Century,” only two years after the film’s release. With Vice, it was clear that the genre was capable of more, and David Robert Mitchell, fresh off the success of 2015’s It Follows decided to tackle the genre with his next film, Under the Silver Lake.
Under the Silver Lake take elements from both Lebowski and Vice, but still manages to create a film that feels completely different. We once again follow a stoned “detective” as he stumbles through Southern California looking for answers. The film takes notes from Lebowski, and also offers a “period” piece of the not so distant past. It takes place in Los Angeles in 2010, far enough back to recognize sport odd fashion choices, but not far enough back that it feels like a different time. The film also offers its fair share of colorful characters, such as the woman in the balloon dress, a topless woman with a parrot, and a pirate. Under the Silver Lake, however, takes these elements and ups the absurdity to the point where it almost feels like a David Lynch film. From the beginning, the film shows an obsession with the symbols and messages that make up our media. Our protagonist, Sam, hopelessly hoards old media, such as classic films and old issues of Nintendo Power, looking for meaning. He is at his wit’s ends. He has been let go from a job we never learn about, and has recently parted ways with a girlfriend we don’t meet until over an hour into the film. He is long overdue on rent and soon to be evicted, but that doesn’t stop him from pursuing his next door neighbor after she mysteriously disappears after meeting him. Sam can’t find meaning in his own life, so he seeks it in media.
Under the Silver Lake (2018), dir. David Robert Mitchell
Under the Silver Lake manages to preserve the comedic essence of Lebowski and Vice, while also amping up its absurdist elements to craft a story about the meaningless of media. Lebowski and Vice had its fair share of characters that bordered on ridiculous; from a cocaine addicted dentist with a penchant for young women to the landlord with a passion for interpretive dance. But these characters, while strange, maintained a level of realism that made them nothing more than exaggerations of Los Angeles archetypes. Under the Silver Lake, however, features multiple characters that are so absurd and fantastical, that you are left wondering what’s real and what’s just an acid flashback. Characters like the Songwriter, the Owl’s Kiss, and the Homeless King are so extreme in their design and what they represent, that the film almost feels like a horror film at times (unsurprising from the mind behind It Follows). These absurdist creations result in cryptic scenes meant to be analyzed and never truly understood, resulting in a story that feels equal parts Lebowski and Vice, with a little bit of Mulholland Drive (2001) thrown in for good measure.
It’s hard to say right away whether or not Under the Silver Lake will have the same longevity of Lebowski or Vice. The film undoubtedly has already become a new source of obsession for cult film enthusiasts; a blossoming online scene of armchair analysts has already begun to emerge, decoding each and every frame of the film, looking for messages and meaning. But it’s that density and abundance of visual metaphors that has proven to be just as infuriating for some as it has fascinating to others. Regardless of its longevity, Under the Silver Lake just seems like the logical next step to the stonoire, doubling down on the meaninglessness and upping the absurdity to nearly Lynch levels. It almost makes you wonder, where can it go from here?