Goldflocken by Werner Schroeter
[media=https://youtu.be/ROiRXJ3CHn0]
Not too long ago I was of the mind that seeing this film would make my life complete, ever since falling under the spell of Herr Schroeter I waited and waited for Edition film museum to release it, but they never did, because perhaps it wouldn't make them much money. I am not sure it can dethrone his Death of Maria Malibran for top place though. I've yet to watch it all, it could just be something I've grown out of, but I post it here to complete the mystical circle I began to draw when I was foolhardy enough to share my personal tastes publicly.
What Schroeter represents to me is a dated phenomenon in art film making, it's day has come and gone, but it can be viewed as what alternative film expression used to be. I'm no longer on board with it, as I have proceeded past all of film watching at this time, but I shall let it play here for a limited run. Remember the good ole days, when there was no limit to the lavishness of what you could accomplish, embrace your inner outsider, and let it sail into the sunset which is the portal to the eternal memory banks never to be exhausted.
To see his Deux would be very nice, it was a sequel to Malina with Isabelle Huppert starring again, but it's terribly indulgent stuff, it's like it's coming from the same artistic place inside a person where works such as operas in the past centuries were made, which means nowadays it feels too heavy handed, but what makes all of his best films work so at least in the past was that sensibility that used the tragic sensibility in the creative process. Everything else which garners such praise is cookie cutter fodder, all the same in substance, films such as he made were to the very molecular level of their being unique, and so I just want to remember stuff like that, maybe a select few here will know what i'm stammering poorly about here.
Those days will never return, treasure the memories. Just because you can hit play on a video that shows it doesn't mean it's still here, oh no, it is long gone away.
Werner Schroeter’s rhapsody of excess leaps from 1949 Cuba to contemporary France to points in between, while its feverishly shifting visual style evokes and parodies everything from kitschy Mexican telenovelas to silent French art films.
Not too long ago I was of the mind that seeing this film would make my life complete, ever since falling under the spell of Herr Schroeter I waited and waited for Edition film museum to release it, but they never did, because perhaps it wouldn't make them much money. I am not sure it can dethrone his Death of Maria Malibran for top place though. I've yet to watch it all, it could just be something I've grown out of, but I post it here to complete the mystical circle I began to draw when I was foolhardy enough to share my personal tastes publicly.
What Schroeter represents to me is a dated phenomenon in art film making, it's day has come and gone, but it can be viewed as what alternative film expression used to be. I'm no longer on board with it, as I have proceeded past all of film watching at this time, but I shall let it play here for a limited run. Remember the good ole days, when there was no limit to the lavishness of what you could accomplish, embrace your inner outsider, and let it sail into the sunset which is the portal to the eternal memory banks never to be exhausted.
To see his Deux would be very nice, it was a sequel to Malina with Isabelle Huppert starring again, but it's terribly indulgent stuff, it's like it's coming from the same artistic place inside a person where works such as operas in the past centuries were made, which means nowadays it feels too heavy handed, but what makes all of his best films work so at least in the past was that sensibility that used the tragic sensibility in the creative process. Everything else which garners such praise is cookie cutter fodder, all the same in substance, films such as he made were to the very molecular level of their being unique, and so I just want to remember stuff like that, maybe a select few here will know what i'm stammering poorly about here.
Those days will never return, treasure the memories. Just because you can hit play on a video that shows it doesn't mean it's still here, oh no, it is long gone away.
