“Anamorph” – dir. Henry Miller (2007)
Tragic tragic tragic hero, have a drink. Pull out of your desk & poor into your coffee. Right in the middle of a police station, where all the cops sit & type. Drink while driving to the crime scene. Drink at the crime scene? i think so, but it’s blurred & – are you having a flashback? Awesome, it’s violent & strange. The multiple perspectives are in your blurred memories as they are in (@?) the murder site because you, the prime focal point, are the object[-ive] shining along a spectrum. You have the eye. And the matching sentiment. You are the Detective.
Leave Mind at home & somehow get to the theatre safely without event. There is not a moment to waste in haste or foolish banter, just go. Wait!, on second thought, instead of leaving your Mind at home, smoking in your easy chair wearing your red satin robe & designer slippers, bring it along. Be kind and allow your Mind to smoke one of your favorites along the way. Why the favorites? Why spoil the Mind? Between you & me, this indulgence is really a last meal. The Reason: that which is leaving the house will not be the same returning: the bar of expectations will comb the giraffes’ toupee. Gilliam discovered CGI.
The Mind will not mind. In fact, the Mind will appreciate the reward of watching “The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus”. So yes, bring the Mind. Think of the reward as a relief from the immediate realities pressing upon its perceptions & imaginations. Unlike “Shutter Island” – dir. Martin Scorsese (2010), the explanation of the mind given by Doctor Parnassus has its merits or rather psychological History as discoursed by East & West. So, go ahead entreat the long hours of your labor by expanding the Mind’s memories & experiences through the expansion of consciousness affected by the movie’s multiple moral points & overall theme. Acute this description through the urgencies & throbbing will of the subconscious, all painted on storytelling screen. Rich & chewy, filth & dirt unfiltered, reality at its source. An aesthetic (anesthetic?) document of the human experience built up in satire, Devil’s details & Gnostic undercurrents – all guided through anal execution. Rushed?
"Play Misty for Me” – dir. Clint Eastwood (1971)
Picking up girls at bars is the best. The best entertainment. The best life-changing experiences. The best way to get rid of your maid & police chief. Simply the Best. If you begin to question why disbelief has been suspended thus far, question first if the question is fair. (Within the context almost two score years past, such films, such stories, interpretations & executions were… almost but not quite at the level of story-telling used to request a song on the radio. “Play ‘Misty’ for Me,” the female voice says coolly. Too coolly & Eastwood is pulled by her charm. In regards to the techniques used to – for example – convey a scene accumulating in angst, fear & violence, the repetition in itself is refined & unexpected, jumping back & forth from the point of view of the sadist to the sadist’s victim, then to the point of view of the masochist to the masochist’s tormentor. Scenes shot from the distance of a mirror & those shot on high hills & helicopters show: the act of traveling. We are lead to observe from the distance of our own reflections or from a distance of watching the details of ants’ labor. The dialog alone summons nostalgia for simpler times. A little too simple at times. Bite into a water-filled rock & assimilate.
The intro will definitely make you hungry. May I recommend eating Italian food in honor of the director, of course? The spaghetti with meatballs in thick marinara sauce? Yes, mam, we do serve such a dish. Allow me to clear these table fixtures out of the way – the spaghetti was ready before you ordered it. What do you mean your spaghetti is moving? It came straight from the kitchen. My eyeballs are meatballs and one’s killing while the other watches? And, you say, the meatballs are really people, not eyeballs. I don’t believe my eyes, i mean, ears.
If only what i saw could be seen by a third-party, if a second-party confirmed & denied what the first & third party reacted to, if the details were exaggerated with hunger, then I’d say we would be able to show the Cat in the Brain.
Do you have any crushed red pepper?
“Lunacy” – dir. Jan Švankmajer (2005)
Disclaimer by the director Jan Švankmajer: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the film you are about to see is a horror film, a horror with all the degeneracy that belongs to this genre. It is not a work of art. Today, art is all but dead anyway, in its place is a sort of reflecting advertisement for the face of Narcissus. Our film can be considered to be an infantile tribute to Edgar Allan Poe from whom I have borrowed a number of motifs; and to the Marquis de Sade to whom the film owes its blasphemy and its subversiveness. The subject of the film is essentially an ideological debate about how to run a lunatic asylum. Basically there are two ways of managing such an institution, each equally extreme. One encourages absolute freedom, the other the old-fashioned, well-tried method of control and punishment. But there is also a third one that combines and exacerbates the very worst aspects of the other two. And that is the madhouse we live in today.”
Kafkaesque hopes for the coming of relief when time is unconvincingly provided: soon I will see beyond the present drudgery, the monotonous bore of living on the moon, & be with the one I love, the one I harvest the moon for.
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