''is it not crazy to wake up statues so suddenly from their secular sleep?''
The black angel with a limp.
The dead body and the cheater.
A half-sleeping odyssey through a field of imagery that's self-consciously devoid of deep meaning; the subconscious deliberately suppressed.
Structurally biographical, but stripped of all depth that would tie it exclusively to Cocteau, The Blood of a Poet is a shallow but universal treatise on the creative process.
Focusing exclusively on narrative and beauty, it manages to be more esoteric and truly surreal than anything produced by the major surrealists working within the movement.
And the film so clearly wants to be enjoyable to…