Wenchwatches: Dark City

 
Content warnings
death
murder
horror

I think I watched this one in the theater, and I was instantly captivated by it. It was unlike so many other films I had watched until that point, a mix of genres and styles all mashed together.

Largely marketed as an art film gone mainstream, it surprisingly succeeded by that standard. Tonight's viewing is the Director's cut, which was felled by one of our old enemies, Studio Interference.

Let's watch!

Dark City also happened to be one of the first DVDs I bought and one I still have it to this day. I only managed to get my hands on the Director's cut recently, and I prefer it compared to the original. (I know, I know, big surprise...)

There aren't many differences between the theatrical and the director's cut due to the state of technology at the time. This was still when film was shot on literal film. Deleted scenes were rare, and often destroyed entirely -- even as late as Event Horizon, released just the previous year. Despite the limited number of differences, they have a profound effect on the feel of the entire film, and leaves it feeling more authentic.

Either way, Dark City is a odd film to randomly walk in on. It has loads of environmental storytelling, which was not a common technique for many mass market films. Like Event Horizon, the slower pace was seen as an anathema, and the studios tried to push up the pacing artificially by dropping details and slapping higher energy music in scenes for which they clearly weren't intended to have. It's ham-fistily done and cheapened the film for summer thriller dollars.

A notable and welcome absence in the director's cut is right there in the opening scene. In the theatrical, Scheber (Sutherland) has a brief narration introducing our antagonists, the Strangers. The director's cut omits this entirely and let's the initial scene of the the stopped clock and the halted city continue wordlessly. It immediately sets a different tone for the film; you're meant to engage with the material. The film wants you to theorize and guess what's going on, it's part of the fun of it.

Tantalizing details are left throughout the first act which we'll pick up on later: a drop of blood but no wound, a mysterious man with a pocket watch, a missing wallet. The genre throughout this act feels film noir through a modern lens, with hints of cop drama and even Lang's M. Yet, the genre somehow feels...off. Off in a way you can't quite put your finger on. You might be forgiven for assuming this is a period piece -- until the confrontation with the Strangers.

The Strangers really cap off our first, surprisingly short act of the film. Our protagonist, John Murdock (Sewell), has been pursued by these pallid, dark-clocked figures since discovering a murdered, naked women in his hotel room. Bloody spirals carved in dead flesh.

Escaping down a stairwell, Murdock is stopped by the hotel manager. He tells him the automat has his missing wallet. There, we get our first indication of what genre this film really is. Trapped behind a coin operated window, Murdock stares at it intently as a wobbly effect moves toward the window, emanating from his forehead. The door bursts open, suddenly broken.  In successive scenes we learn that this is "tuning". At first, we assume this a form of telekinesis, but is in fact much more. 

That's right, this is a Science Fiction movie, but it leverages film noir and gumshoe cop drama as a framing device and artistic choice.

Films, like good story telling, often need to tell you want they're really about multiple times, sometimes in multiple ways. The more cerebral the content, the more often the film will have to do this to get across the point. There's probably a film term for this, but I like thinking of it as "priming". The film is priming the audience with its ideas, so that not only is your disbelief suspended, but you also understand it. The more "out there" a film is, the more they have to do this. Dark City is definitely one of those films.

"Maybe I have lost my mind, but whomever I am, I'm still me and I'm not a killer."

A key moment that hints at what's really going on is Bumstead's (Hurt) conversation with Walenski (Friels). Not only do I  love the grimy, mad sequence, the set is stuffed to the brim with details about the film itself. We only see brief glimpses of it as the scene continues, so our eyes don't linger long of any of them. Even so, the frenzied scrawlings might enter our subconsciousness and give us much needed intuitive leaps.

Until now, we've only had details and mysteries in the director's cut. Some films may delay gratification on any answers until nearly the end (such as The Game), Dark City gives us one answer only 36 minutes into the story. Tuning is more than just moving objects with your mind, it's the ability to alter reality itself. And the Strangers aren't ghosts, or spirits, or Lovecraftian horrors (exactly).

"That's the purpose of your little zoo, isn't it? Weren't you looking for the human soul?"

It's this moment, where the film really hooked me. Scheiber, being held aloft by the Stranger, Mr. Book, where we learn why the Strangers are here. Dark City isn't simply an artful piece of SciFi, it's also reflecting on the human condition through it's fantastic elements.

One thing that becomes more apparent as the film goes on isn't that the city is stylized, it feels intentionally discordant. A mishmash of scenes and details. It all feels vaguely like things we've seen in other films with a much more cohesive sense of setting. It all kinda works together, but the deeper you look the more it seems off.

The film also accentuates this with discordant details even before the reveal. A hotel manager is seemingly replaced with a completely different actor only a few scenes later. In other films, this would be a terrible blunder, but here it's intentional. Later, the person who was the hotel manager is later found working at a newspaper stand, claiming he always has.

"25 years, no days off for good behavior."

At this point in the film we know the strangers aren't just remaking the city, but remaking the people within it. They move them around, reassign them different lives and different memories to match. Until, once and a while, like Walenski and Murdock, "one of us wakes up". Scheiber mentions "You've had strays before", suggesting that there's been a long chain of failed Murdocks throughout the city's history.

The former hotel manager is actually one of the character's who help prove the film's premise. In the first act, and later on the film, he uses the same phrase, "No good days off for good behavior". This suggests something immutable even beyond the Stranger's meddling.

One reason I actually prefer the director's cut is how much more human it treats the sex worker character, May.

May is immediately set up as Murdock's second potential victim. Murdock later admits to his wife he went along with her to test herself, finding that no, he wasn't the killer the Strangers are making him out to be. In the theatrical cut, May is barely there. She appearance only serves to solidify Murdock's sense of self, provide a brief moment of sex appeal,  and then a clue to Murdock's whereabouts before she's brutally murdered by Mr. Hand.

In the director's cut, we're given the detail she has a daughter. She's present both in the initial scene between May and Murdock, and in subsequent scenes including when they find May's body. She drew the Strangers, giving a vial clue to Bumstead that yes, more is going on here than we see. This dropped scene helps to turn Bumstead from pursuing Murdock to following the mystery of the Strangers and the truth behind the city.

It's easy (and frustrating) to see why the studio cut this for the theatrical release. The presence of May's daughter profoundly humanizes May. This isn't promiscuity, it's work. It's her job. It sucks, but she's her own boss and makes her own hours. And even with the comparatively tame puritanical leanings of the US in 1998, this was one step too far for Hollywood.

May's daughter ended up on the cutting room floor.

Another wonderful think this film does is that with each detail it reveals, it suggests more questions: It's not just changing the city, it's changing the people. Why change the people too? If the Strangers are searching for the human soul, why? How come no one else notices this city changing? Why is there no "outside"? Why is it always night?

Even when Mr. Hand tells us, "The city's ours, we made it," we're left with another question. Even through we know now they fashioned it out of the stolen memories they are not freely remixing in the city's populace, we're left with, "why?"

"The city's ours, we made it."

Perhaps feeling the runtime, Mr. Hand continues, telling us that "we need to be like you". Yet, why, and what the Strangers are is left unanswered. Each answered question gives us a moment's satisfaction, but leaves us wanting more to unlock the total mystery. Meanwhile, it dangles more mysteries in front of us without us really realizing it. Just where is Shell Beach? Does it even exist?

It's some masterful work in terms of writing. Combined with the excellent cinematography, set work, and excellent performances, it's no wonder why I adore this film.

Finally, we get to the fourth act, after following all these myriad clues.

Finally capturing Scheber, Murdock and Bumstead are finally told the entire story. The sequence is spoiled by the opening narration in the theatrical cut, with phrases cut and pasted whole-cloth. This leaves the explanation feeling tired and clumsy as we've already been able to put everything together ourselves. In the Director's Cut, it's a satisfying sequence which puts all the details together with narrative finesse.

Sutherland gives a great performance during this sequence. Not only does he communicate emotion and fear, by the end of it, he evokes sympathy. He's not some villain to be condemned like Dr. Mann in Interstellar, he's a victim like the rest of us, "forced to erase everything else."

As our characters paddle they way to Shell Beach, the city itself starts to make less and less sense. It feels less finished, missing bricks and buildings crammed together impossibly. It feels more like a disused corner, everything pushed up against the walls, forgotten. It's easy to miss on first watch, but I adore this detail.

Spirals have been a visual motif throughout the film, often held up in liminal moments: Scheiber's rat maze, Murdock's fingerprints, Walenski's scrawlings, and the bloody trails left by Mr. Hand. The spiral is held up more in the manner of Pi as suggestive of an answer, rather than something to invoke terror in of itself as in Uzumaki. This motif comes to a head when we finally arrive at "Shell Beach". 

It's little more than a poster on a brick wall, deep in the unfinished part of the city. Murdock and Bumstead tear at it with hands, improvised tools, and finally from Murdock, tuning. The wall gives way, revealing only deep space outside. Mr. Hand and several Strangers corners them, and in the struggle, Bumstead falls through the opening and sees the city as a whole.

Not a city, not a planet, the "city" is more a space station. It's a spiral of streets, crumbling buildings, and criss-crossing highway's straight out of Metropolis. Even the clouds follow the spiral. 

This CGI effect is one of the best in the film, which is saying something for 1998. CGI was key for making the tuning effects, the changing city, and the Stranger's alien form. On the whole the effects work well. No more is this so than during the "mind war" between Murdock and Mr. Book at the end of the film. It's delightfully chaotic and finally delivers some satisfying resolution. The conclusion of this sequence, however, the death of Mr. Book, is sadly the least convincing of the effects.

Curiously, the ending scene reminds me a bit of Total Recall.

Seriously! "What could a satirical Schwarzenegger film have to do with the art-house Dark City?" you might say. Both Dark City and Total Recall have a habit of making their settings oppressive using lighting. This sounds simple, but it an effective  means to give the film mood. In Total Recall, the harsh redness of Mars and rusty skies are meant to be threatening and give the sets a claustrophobic feel. In Dark City, the perpetual night of the city hides the illogic of the made up urban landscape while also making it easier for the CGI to be effective.

Both films also break that use of lighting at the end for the maximum emotional effect. Blue skies, clear air, sunlight, it feels of delightful release. A deliverance from the horrors the characters had endured. The world is finally put right.

This continues to be a personal favorite of mine and stands apart from so much of my collection. It's curious mix of elements are part of the storytelling, of the worldbuilding. The way it turns discordant feelings into a *strength* rather than a weakness makes for some impressive film work.

Combined with the writing which keeps leading us on, and performances such as Sutherland's, Dark City is a rightful classic.

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