Author: Jessica Schneider

Jessica is a novelist and poet. Visit her Amazon Book page for a glimpse into what she's shared. Her unreleased works include several trilogies and poetic novels on religious themes. She is currently working on a poetry collection on French painters. She also runs a YouTube channel on the arts.
Film by Jessica Schneider
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A still from Robert Bresson's "Four Nights of a Dreamer," after Dostoevsky's "White Nights," depicting Guillaume des Forêts behind a rainy window. It is being reviewed by Jessica Schneider for the automachination literary magazine.

In Love with Longing: Robert Bresson’s “Four Nights of a Dreamer” (1971)

When one thinks of longing, time moves slowly. Our movements are full of hesitation and second-guesses, as we play and replay scenes within our minds. The actual shared time together might have been extremely short in duration, moments that, when reflected upon years later, are often underwhelming when viewed objectively. Case in point: Can you really know anyone that you’ve only been with very briefly? Granted, Linklater made a trilogy of films about this very thing, and sometimes it works out.

However, mostly what happens is that the fantasy never develops, and so we become addicted to the longing itself. (We think if only the fantasy comes true, then all will be wonderful.) Robert Bresson’s Four Nights of a Dreamer explores this theme, as the film is not about love (is it ever?) but rather longing. (Jane Campion also distills this well in Bright Star.) The film, adapted from Dostoyevsky’s short story White Nights, is admittedly not one of the Russian writer’s better works. Bresson, however, manages to take the story’s seed and successfully embellish it further, making it more an existential examination than emotional. […]

Film by Jessica Schneider
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An image of musician Scottt Walker, subject of Stephen Kijak's documentary "Scott Walker: 30 Century Man," as reviewed by Jessica Schneider for the AUTOMACHINATION literary magazine.

Betraying Sunday: Stephen Kijak’s “Scott Walker: 30 Century Man” (2006)

Sundays are reserved for Ella. That is, Ella Fitzgerald. I’ve always associated her music with the melancholy of Sundays and rain—her voice offering the last glimpse of hope one might feel before having to return to work on Monday.

Yet, this Sunday I deviated, and instead I listened to Scott Walker. This is after having watched the 2006 documentary, “Scott Walker: 30 Century Man”, which is currently streaming on Criterion. I always love learning about new artists, and now Scott Walker is another to join my roster of names that I’ve discovered late. Among them are singer-songwriter Judee Sill and Sixto Rodriguez, both of whom were neglected in their day.

Scott Walker, however, follows a different trajectory, in that he was well known in the 1960s when he recorded with The Walker Brothers (not brothers and none named Walker, they were a seeming ‘boy band’ at least superficially). He then went on to record his solo work, only to disappear and return wearing a baseball cap to release avant-garde songs. (In fact, it was believed that The Walker Brothers would become the next Beatles—wishful thinking, I suppose.) 

Film by Jessica Schneider
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An early scene from William Lustig's slasher film, "Maniac," showing a blonde woman screaming as she is about to be murdered, as reviewed by poet and novelist Jessica Schneider for the automachination literary magazine.

Bring Out the Knife: Reviewing William Lustig’s “Maniac” (1980)

If you were to watch a slasher film, would you be offended if the film delivered the gore it promised? Would you expect a deep, existential exploration of the human psyche, or would you just want to laugh and be entertained? I’m always amazed by what films make it onto the high-brow Criterion Channel, as it’s no stranger to ‘junk cinema’, but then again, one might say this is what gives the channel its charm.

William Lustig’s “Maniac” is currently being featured on the channel, and it seemed to offend critics in its day. Granted, while the ‘slasher’ film was still new to viewers then, Gene Siskel claimed to have walked out due to its violence, and Roger Ebert likewise called it ‘exploitative.’ Now, years later, as a genre all its own, would these critics have known what they were getting into? This is a slasher film, and what can one expect but to see people being slashed? Perhaps it does take years later to gain a perspective, because when I watched it, I found it funny.

Poetry by Jessica Schneider
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A portrait of the American poet Kenneth Rexroth with the text "Kenneth Rexroth re-visisted," as part of the poetry analysis done by author and critic Jessica Schneider.

Reshaping Time and Narrative: On Reading Kenneth Rexroth

It should be no surprise to learn that artists will frequently reach for the same subjects of inspiration, be it painting, film, or writing whenever feeling compelled. Often, the ideas will arrive in cycles—not all at once, but in pieces. However, when it comes to poetry, I have shared that in my early years I struggled with narrative, i.e., what the hell am I trying to say? Certain phrases would arrive easily, but arranging them into something of meaning proved difficult. As result, I knew which poets better suited me when attempting to strengthen this weakness, or rather, which ones should I study more? From whom will I benefit? 

The point is not so much to fixate on one’s weakness, but to recognize it and then learn how to improve. Somewhat akin to an athlete, train enough that weak muscle and soon that muscle can become a strength. One poet that has traversed with me throughout the years is Kenneth Rexroth (1905-1982). Not only for his appreciation of nature and how it relates to existence, but with his free verse style, he was able to be unbound by limits. What I mean is that his poems often seem like poetic prose, but when broken carefully, the narrative builds to a moment most memorable. Take, for example, his poem, “On What Planet”: […]

Film by Jessica Schneider
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A shot of Evan Rachel Wood in Catherine Hardwicke's "Thirteen", as reviewed by poet and film critic Jessica Schneider.

Aimless, Shapeless: Catherine Hardwicke’s “Thirteen” (2003)

When reflecting upon your life, what will you be lamenting, as in, wishing you could have done? Will it be that you wished you could have achieved that triumphant knowledge or skill? Become more prolific in your craft? Or perhaps been nicer to your loved ones? Spent more time with them? Been happier? Or maybe you wish you’d read that book or gotten that so-called degree? After all, what is stopping you? Granted, these achievements might not mean much to the larger world, but maybe they mean something to you. Our life on this earth is finite, so it’s best we spend it productively, achieving what we can, and benefiting those who love us. Time, like cute puppies and kittens, is precious.

Yet, imagine yourself instead spending that precious time inhaling air duster for a cheap high, stealing cash from purses so you can buy yourself some new gold earrings or Skechers, failing your tests because you stay out too late—(so much so that you will need to be held back), being an asshole to your mom, living within a world of total ephemera and chronic emotional whim, and/or not recognizing there is an era beyond yours and expecting the world to bend for you? Then, within free moments, rearranging your time not for study or self improvement, but for recreation. Does this sound like a life you’d wish for when you are at your death?

‘Alas, if only I’d inhaled more air duster…’ […]

Film by Jessica Schneider
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A shot from Richard Linklater's classic 1990s film, "SubUrbia," as reviewed by Jessica Schneider thirty years later.

1990s Eternal Ennui: Reviewing Richard Linklater’s “SubUrbia” (1996)

There was something unusual about American culture in the 1990s. For one, this was the final generation privy to the ‘safety bubble’—a time before 9/11, before the Internet became a necessity rather than a luxury, and before the world lived on their phones. As someone who underwent her teens and early 20s throughout this time, I can say there was a sense of ‘living in the present’ that is unlike today. (After all, in summer one is only alive at night.)

This was a time that gently evoked the 1960s and ‘70s, where poetry was ‘popular’ (slam, Allen Ginsberg, and the Confessionals), young women were having memoirs published about their depressions, women song writers were being taken seriously, and with that there was this sense of ‘possibility’, at least among those who were white, middle-class, and living in the suburbs. So much is possible at 3 a.m. in a Denny’s. But there was also this idea of invincibility—that this Blockbuster Rental on every corner era would always be, so one need not aim for change. Films like Ben Stiller’s Reality Bites (1994) and Kevin Smith’s Mallrats (1995) touch upon this, but nowhere else is this eternal ennui seen better than in Richard Linklater’s SubUrbia. […]

Film by Jessica Schneider
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A still from David Lynch's "Eraserhead", featuring Jack Nance with his iconic hair, as reviewed and analyzed in Jessica Schneider's retrospective analysis of the film.

Embracing the Oddness: David Lynch’s “Eraserhead” (1977)

Have you ever thought of life in terms of allegory? Where everything is an illusion, even reality itself? And secondly, is it necessary to ‘understand’ all parts of a particular something, especially if that something is reflective of one’s man’s neurosis (or not)? If you’re looking for straight answers in David Lynch’s Eraserhead, you will be disappointed. Rather, in order to welcome this film, one must first embrace the idea of allegory, sort of akin to Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis. (An influence for this film.) I mean, think about it—once you come to accept that Gregor Samsa has, in fact, turned into a giant bug, the story itself is actually pretty straightforward. The same can somewhat be said for Eraserhead. Once you come to accept the distorted universe in which Henry lives, then it can sort of fall into place.

First, let’s begin with the setting. Henry Spencer (Jack Nance) lives in an industrial, dilapidated hellhole with no trees or greens, merely buildings, rain, mud, muck, and plumes of smoke. He works as a printer at a factory, lives in a crappy building with low ceilings, and has holes in his bedding, with no space to grow or bloom. In short, we can presume that he hates his life. Across from him lives an attractive, flirty woman who informs him that someone named Mary wants him to come over for dinner. (Said woman later seduces him.) When they speak, there is this aloof detachment to their voices, as though they’re moving about in a dream. Then, when Henry joins Mary (Charlotte Stewart) and her parents for dinner, conversation goes as (somewhat) such: […]

Film by Jessica Schneider
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Burning the Letters: Amy Holden Jones’ “Love Letters” (1983)

It is easy to live in a perpetual state of longing, where one allows fantasy to take over and construct reality as one sees fit. This is, after all, what makes affairs so easy and yet so painful. While they need not be physically intimate, all ultimately remain ideas of the mind. On the one hand, gone goes the responsibility of everyday ennui, and rather, that space is filled with ideas about Romance and possible futures together. However, should this future never come to fruition, or even should one go further as to realize the person one has fantasized over is nothing more than a dud, well, perhaps this might make letting go easier after all?

“Love Letters” is a very sensitively rendered film about longing. The second feature from Amy Holden Jones, her first was The Slumber Party Massacre (1982), which is a campy popcorn flick. This time, however, she is dead set (no pun) on something more serious. Granted, keep in mind that this is a 1980s film so it is not without its flashy dream sequences and clothing of the era, but for a low-budget film, “Love Letters” delivers.

The film stars young Jamie Lee Curtis as 22-year-old Anna, a classical Radio DJ for a show in California. Her mother is dying in the hospital, and upon her visit, the two casually chat before Anna has to leave. ‘I have a show,’ she says, ‘But I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Likewise, Anna’s father also visits, and there is a notable distance between them. Little does Anna know that this is the last time she will see her mother alive. Then, after the funeral, Anna uncovers a box with her mother’s love letters—all seem to have been written by a man named Joe, with whom her mother had an affair while married to Anna’s father.