Focusing on an investigative script, a giallo interested in the development of narrative and the conduction of suspenseful mystery, so enthralling and legitimately fun to watch, elevated by Argento's inventive eye, filled with humour and wit.
The most outrageously beautiful film ever made. Transcendental poetry aligned with the most inspired formal freedom, a narrative written to a dead loved one with blood - no wonder how close to incest its doomed love story lies. Like Oliveira's wheel on 'O Dia do Desespero', movement is an overwhelming death drive, the only constant factor in existence, a flower on the rail that makes everything surrounding it keep moving, just like time, unquenchable as eternity. The moon may bear my testimony, the only thing I see in my mind is her dancing, for everything else is death.
to institute representation as signifier, as a transcendental subject radically deluded, one can sense existence itself as a fundamental point, which can overbalance the entire structure it finds itself in. when ws turns the most crucial element of imbalance to pure abstraction, he shifts the very fabric of representation towards a tangible force, absolutely essential for the actual transformation to take place.
it takes this boisterous abstraction (alice as a representation of humanity, not humanity itself, alice as cinema) to…
beautiful visual textures that unveil an unhinged tale of blunder and gaucherie. north american sociopolitical imaginary in a very specific social stratum, cassavetian pacing allied with an explicitly frontal dramaturgy and an emotionally compelling dramatic cosmology. when misfits can’t find their place in society, when they don’t belong anywhere, when they are simply non-entities drifting around a room, thinking about their loved ones and all the suffering their actions may have caused to them and others.