The Fredric Jameson essay on Dog Day Afternoon is a good reading. But one has to wonder whether Dog Day Afternoon's faux-hybrid representations have in their time encouraged 1970s versions of the 1950s nostalgia film; wonder whether Jameson's tracing of the politics of those representations, adequate when the eve of capitalism had not revealed itself as our eclipse, have in their turn led to imitations (or corruptions, rather) by critics who reaffirm and champion the garbage politics and aesthetics of contemporary Hollywood productions. Under a darkened sky, the most impoverished of politicizations is enough.
Ferrara’s most remarkable film because of its incompleteness, which due to the nature of the medium (in dissolves, cuts, ellipses), is a totality by omission. That Sandii is Pandora armed not with a box but a computer disc is an afterthought. What is truly disconcerting is the fusion between dream, memory, and video recording that permeates throughout the film. X’s recollections during the latter half of the film in particular constitute a cinematic stream of consciousness that I’ve only encountered…
I saw Pompeii to have a laugh at vulgar auteurists. But, my God, I didn't laugh. I saw a great deal that was strange, even stupid. But I also saw CGI that was delicate, almost too sensitive. A city washed through by the ocean and ravaged by fireballs. Impossible details. The earth fissured into catacombs. I felt as though I touched and heard the panic of doomed lives struggling with their fate. No sound came from their breasts as they embraced alone when the fire engulfed them. My God, I didn't laugh.