Edinburgh 2010 begins… and to set off on a dark and twisted path I went along to see Werner Hertzog and David Lynch's first director/producer venture, ‘My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done’. After travelling all night without a wink of sleep, consuming the film was like drinking on an empty stomach. Very soon, the incredibly surreal characters and imagery became overwhelming and crept into my small bouts of shut-eye as the film played out.
As you would expect, it was an absurd and perverse narrative. Inspired by a true story, the film follows homicide detective Hank Havenhurst's (Willem Dafoe) investigation of Brad McCallum (Michael Shannon) who has murdered his mother with an antique sword. As Havenhurst questions McCallum's fiancée and friend/theatre director, we delve into the disturbed young man's past through a series of flashbacks to discover that a recent rafting trip to Peru left him with some serious mental scars. Threading Greek tragedy with psychoanalysis and experimenting with time, space and the audience's suspension of disbelief, this is classic Hertzog/Lynch territory. There is much to enjoy in this film: some off the wall one-liners and a terrific performance from Grace Zabriskie as the mother. The juxtaposition of cinematography and music is also very effective in creating an unsettling and visceral experience. However, there was so little humanity in this film that I was relieved to see it end. It is pure madness. Devout Hertzog fans will no doubt be delighted, but for the under-slept and vulnerable- beware! Your dreams will be invaded by Flamingos, Quaker Oats and glazed eyes...
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