I’m uncertain as to why Peter Greenaway doesn’t scare up the sort of perpetual renown that greets the releases of new films from other international arthouse heavy-hitters ostensibly of his ilk (Leigh, Almodovar, the Dardennes, et al). Nevertheless, he remains one of my faves, and even his shittier films are wholly distinctive works, so resolute in their baroque aesthetic and autumnal sensuality that not a frame of them may be mistaken for any other filmmaker. Seriously, check this shit out.
The Tulse Luper films refract Greeenaway's aesthetic in about a dozen directions. They're rife with superimposition, stagey acting, matter-of-fact nudity, and example the filmmaker's OCD proclivities at length (in a sense, they're less films than they are a comprehensive visual catalogue of the eponymous character's myriad suitcases). As such they exhibit him at perhaps his most convoluted, and nevertheless host many alternately weird/astonishing moments.