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Just hanging there in gold stone
Sergei Parajanov's The Color of Pomegranates (Sayat Nova, 1968) may be the weirdest film I have ever streamed off Netflix; ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rushthatspeaks and I watched it tonight and it actually blew our minds. I should be writing that it felt like Orthodox icons or elsewhere Tarot, that it did not abide by the usual perceptions of time or even foreign language, that it is either full of surrealism or full of gorgeous, estranging symbols for which we have no context or both in combination, and that it must share common ancestry with the work of Pasolini, because there is no evidence from either of our reading that Derek Jarman knew of Parajanov and Caravaggio (1986) looks like a direct line of descent. (Peter Greenaway, too. We were reminded also of Ulrike Ottinger's Johanna d'Arc of Mongolia (1989) and Dr. Seuss' The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. (1953), but we think that last was coincidental. It was mostly the ladders.) Instead we seem to be looking at one another and repeating, "Sheep." You can check out Rush's report if you don't believe me. Kino International catalogue, God bless you.
This had better help with my writing something surprising enough to be worth Max Ernst.
rushthatspeaks and I watched it tonight and it actually blew our minds. I should be writing that it felt like Orthodox icons or elsewhere Tarot, that it did not abide by the usual perceptions of time or even foreign language, that it is either full of surrealism or full of gorgeous, estranging symbols for which we have no context or both in combination, and that it must share common ancestry with the work of Pasolini, because there is no evidence from either of our reading that Derek Jarman knew of Parajanov and Caravaggio (1986) looks like a direct line of descent. (Peter Greenaway, too. We were reminded also of Ulrike Ottinger's Johanna d'Arc of Mongolia (1989) and Dr. Seuss' The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T. (1953), but we think that last was coincidental. It was mostly the ladders.) Instead we seem to be looking at one another and repeating, "Sheep." You can check out Rush's report if you don't believe me. Kino International catalogue, God bless you.This had better help with my writing something surprising enough to be worth Max Ernst.