Mala Noche: A Young Gus Van Sant's Obscure Object of Desire (and First Feature Film)

MALA NOCHE
(Gus Van Sant, US, 1985, 35mm, 78 minutes)

This has been a fantastic year to catch up with old favorites.

Though American iconoclasts Allison Anders, Jim Jarmusch, and Gus Van Sant came up in the 1980s, their debuts didn't arrive on DVD until 2007, thanks to the Criterion Collection (Criterion has also made it possible to catch up with Alfonso Cuarón's debut, Sólo con Tu Pareja.)

First, there was Anders' 1987 Border Radio (co-directed with Kurt Voss and Dean Lent), then Jarmusch's 1980 Permanent Vacation, now Van Sant's 1985 Mala Noche. Many people probably consider 1992's Gas, Food and Lodging, 1984's Stranger Than Paradise, and 1989's Drugstore Cowboy first feature films. On the contrary, they were breakthroughs. (Criterion has packaged Permanent Vacation and Stranger Than Paradise together.)

All three prove my rather cynical theory about talent: Some have it, some don't. (And those who don't never will, not really.) I haven't seen Permanent Vacation, so I don't know how it holds up, but if Border Radio and Mala Noche are rough around the edges, the innate ability of their makers shines through. After two decades, Anders and Jarmusch are also as wild about music as ever, while Van Sant remains obsessed with miscommunication.

In Van Sant's 2006 Paris Je T'aime short film ("Le Marais"), a Frenchman (Gaspard Ulliel) tries to communicate with an American (Christian Bramsen). The attraction appears to be one-sided. If they spoke the same language, maybe things would be different. The same conflict drives Mala Noche. In this case, Walt (Tim Streeter), a Yank, is attracted to Johnny (Doug Cooeyate), an undocumented Mexican man. Walt speaks a little Spanish, but Johnny doesn't speak any English. Walt is gay, while Johnny is straight.

Based on the semi-autobiographical novel by poet, painter, and author Walt Curtis, the film is set in Portland, populated by non-professionals, and shot in high-contrast black and white with a couple of color interludes. 

While queer cinema is filled with tired tales about gay men pining for unattainable straights, Mala Noche never feels clichéd--and I don't mean to single out gay films; they're just echoing the creaky template of all those hetero films about neurotic gals pining for oblivious gents. 

In this case, Walt doesn't really pine for Johnny. Unlike recent Van Sant protagonists who have little to say, like the semi-silent Kurt Cobain reverie Last Days, Walt's a talkative fellow. He tells Johnny, in no uncertain terms, that he's interested. Johnny may not understand English, but he gets the picture. The feeling isn't mutual.

Walt doesn't give up, and the two establish a tentative friendship, which includes a little fooling around. It's hardly a romance, but Walt tries to convince himself otherwise. 

If anything, Johnny and his friend, Roberto (Ray Monge), aren't even very nice to their gringo patron, like the time they lock him out of his car and drive off. They will eventually return to pick Walt up, but only after making him jump through a few humiliating hoops. 

When Johnny disappears, Walt takes up with Roberto more out of necessity than desire. Roberto needs a place to crash, Walt has a roach-infested flat. Does Walt see him as a unique individual or a convenient replacement? Either way, he can blame it on language, class, or other barriers, but he can't make Roberto love him--and even bigger problems lie ahead.

Does Walt learn from the experience? It's hard to say. Though refreshingly un-conflicted about his sexual orientation, there's nothing intrinsically queer about the central dilemma: Wanting something or someone you can't have. It could be anything--even talent. And Van Sant has squandered his at times: Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Psycho, Finding Forrester--take your pick--but even his worst films bear his imprint. And Mala Noche is far from bad. 

Sensitive, but never sentimental, it's the work of a born filmmaker.



Luis Buñuel claims two of the world's finest film titles: The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie and That Obscure Object of Desire. Mala Noche, in a new 35mm print, opens at the Northwest Film Forum on Fri, Sept 21. The NWFF is located at 1515 12th Ave between Pike and Pine. For more information, please click here. In case you missed it during SIFF, Paris Je T'aime is currently playing at the Metro Cinemas. The Metro is located at 4500 9th Ave NE. Images from The Criterion Collection (Matt Dillon in Drugstore Cowboy), Amazon (Mala Noche book cover), and the IMDb (Tim Streeter).