If "Naked Lunch," the novel by William S. Burroughs, represents ultimate literary freedom (it would make the Marquis de Sade blush), David Cronenberg's "Naked Lunch" is a violent reaction to it. Freedom, not the book. The book is a beautiful work of art that exists outside the invented notions of law, religion, and reticence, just as much as it exists separate from past, present, or future. Any sense of guilt or shame experienced while reading the book is purely in the reader's mind, not on the page.
The movie is a different story. Since Burroughs wrote the book with an, er, "enhanced" mind, I figured I'd read it under the same conditions. So, maybe the plot in the movie is somewhere in the book, I just don't recall it. Anywho, the movie plot is a great springboard into the disparate shapes and pea soup- colored haze known as "Interzone." Cronenberg clearly is sharing his own experience of reading the book, mixing it with his knowledge of Beat history (including the world of Paul Bowles, the American ex-pat, living in Morocco, not an intimate part of the Beat generation) and his personal issues regarding sexuality. While Burroughs and his colleagues embraced homosexuality without much hesitation, Cronenberg isn't quite as comfortable with it, and makes it clear in his film. Not that Rev. Falwell or his ilk are putting it on their top 10 lists next to certain Mel Gibson or Charlton Heston projects. The movie is still sexy and seductive, mostly thanks to Weller, Davis, and, as always, the reliable Mr. Sands.
The movie is a different story. Since Burroughs wrote the book with an, er, "enhanced" mind, I figured I'd read it under the same conditions. So, maybe the plot in the movie is somewhere in the book, I just don't recall it. Anywho, the movie plot is a great springboard into the disparate shapes and pea soup- colored haze known as "Interzone." Cronenberg clearly is sharing his own experience of reading the book, mixing it with his knowledge of Beat history (including the world of Paul Bowles, the American ex-pat, living in Morocco, not an intimate part of the Beat generation) and his personal issues regarding sexuality. While Burroughs and his colleagues embraced homosexuality without much hesitation, Cronenberg isn't quite as comfortable with it, and makes it clear in his film. Not that Rev. Falwell or his ilk are putting it on their top 10 lists next to certain Mel Gibson or Charlton Heston projects. The movie is still sexy and seductive, mostly thanks to Weller, Davis, and, as always, the reliable Mr. Sands.