Speaking of Jodorowsky, I’ve just seen Holy Mountain!
I know, I know, all you people who have already seen it… I’ve had the gall to walk around calling myself a Jodorowsky fan without ever clapping eyes on more than the poster, but his status in my affections has now been well and truly cemented.
It was a rather psychadelic couple of hours on the couch (or the cinema – but if you’re that lucky, I’m so jealous I don’t even want to talk to you.) where my eyes were repeatedly and continually under assault (in the good way) from the most gobsmacking series of images and visual concepts that were completely unrelenting.
There is no time to ponder, or dissect the construction of one ridiculously mad and beautiful shot before you are smacked in the orbs by the next. By the end I was just left stunned and possibly panting, and spent the next 48 hours revisiting the scenes in my head with an internal dialogue of ‘how the hell…?’.
Imagine waking up in a shed, full to bursting of thousands of life size crucifix (crucifi? crucifixs?)cast from your own body.
Imagine a re-enactment of the Spanish Civil War played out live by frogs and lizards in full costume, who end up eating each other.
Imagine the depiction of a violent massacre where each hugely traumatic wound is mocked up in fruit, wine or flowers.
I used to stick up for Matthew Barney, you know… when people would talk about how boring the Cremaster Cycle films are I would be the one speaking up for the amazing imagry. Not so much now though.
Now it is completely apparrant that Barney is throwing darts at a Holy Mountain-ish target and still keeps leaving holes in the wood-panelling.
I am in love again. This time it’s with a film.