Big bad Bigelow

Interview, Nov, 1995 by Veronica Webb

KB: Maybe subconsciously, but I didn't approach it in those terms. They're both very pragmatic characters. Mace has made a choice about her life as a result of a traumatic experience; Faith has made an opportunistic choice to pursue a career as a rock star, so she's attached herself to the character played by Michael Wincott [a venal music promoter]. I actually think Faith is trying to prevent Lenny from being sucked into this hideous matrix she's at the heart of. So there is a kind of personal sense of justice--albeit crude--in her character, too.

GF: The LAPD's killing of the rapper-activist character, Jeriko One [Glenn Plummer], is going to invite comparisons with the Rodney King beating. That could be construed as exploitative.

KB: As I show it, the murder is a random, freak situation perpetrated by two individuals--two loose-cannon cops--acting completely outside any authority. Ultimately, justice prevails and the authority figures remain untarnished. Art does imitate life, and the Rodney King beating was a real event. It's a part of all our consciousness, and there's no value in ignoring it. It was a sad, tragic situation that hopefully will never be repeated, but any kind of reexamination of its is positive.

GF: The L.A. you show at the end of the millennium is in complete chaos. Are you being prophetic?

KB It's a possible reality--one of thousands, let's say. Strange Days is a fictional film, so there was liberty to create a canvas that acknowledges a real flash-point society. Right now, there's the illusion of order and civilization, but there's a tremendous amount of economic tension in this country and the educational system is constantly eroding. So you're in a cause-and-effect situation--and there will be an effect. Obviously I don't have a crystal ball, but there's a threat that this tensely balanced society we live in will erupt at any moment, so I chose to respond to that as opposed to showing an implausible environment. On the other hand, I believe there's hope, because the breakdown and the repair are happening simultaneously.

GF: You've made quite a journey from when you were an artist in New York. In all your movies, you make dangerous images beautiful. You also consistently explore the seductive nature of violence. Why are these things so crucial to your work?

KB: I wish I knew exactly. My movement from painting to film was a very conscious one. Whereas painting is a more rarefied art form, with a limited audience, I recognized film as this extraordinary social tool that could reach tremendous numbers of people. Seeing The Wild Bunch [1996, directed by Sam Peckinpah] was a turning point in my film consciousness. I realized that it isn't a film about violence per se; Peckinpah just used violence as a language to discuss honor and as a means of catharsis. That's the kind of think I'm still responding to.

GF: You make very lush, textured images--the insect drawing blood in Near Dark [1987], the gleaming metal of the gun in Blue Steel [1990], the glamorized male physiques in Point Break [1991]. Do you know where these images come from?