always looking for the grassland in my head
catholicism as a subconscious and not just a pool of guilt. it’s fascinating how ferrara avoids explicitly dealing with heaven or hell, but rather shows aided rebirth and divine punishment. the final scene is at once a universal balancing act and an oddly fitting redemption; the lieutenant is spared destruction by the hands of another sinner. two go up, one goes down, and the rest go forward; it could happen here or anywhere.
striking a match
i see the foggy ocean
is there a motherland
i can dedicate myself to?
terayama creates a film of his own tanka poems. flows more assuredly than throw away your books, rally in the streets with sequences that exist in simple, completed forms and connect together with the reflexive quest announced halfway through. and that scene, and how it so candidly lays bare the film's entire point, should make it seem pointless. but terayama immediately returns…