Second viewing in two days, as gradually the film seeps in, as this is a sensory overload; built on refined dream imagery, bristling with hidden meaning, an echoing beauty and a black gothic horror depiction, driven with the constant desire to make connections across the partition of death. Our protagonist rides along a train of death to be dropped by the blind conductor at the asylum.
A Jewish film transcending ethnicity, illustrating over arching themes of both finding a meaning to life and death. As a result we are led through a series of composed framed vignettes where flowing commonalities emerge; Jewish life depicted in the ghetto, finding a meaning to continue to survive, women with bared breasts who offer their sensuality along with the everpresent birds compressed together by the perpetual pressures of history.
All set in the coloured decaying grandeur of Miss Faversham's gothic, delapidated chic of a crumbling lifestyle; welcome to the sanatorium. Climbing through an Alice in Wonderland world where the smell of an impending blood soaked holocaust pervades the air; as the old people emerge with their last stint lifestyles. The train at the beginning brings the conductor into the scene- leading the people to their eventual resting place. Appearing both at the begining and the end he makes himself understood.
The narrative concerns father-son love and an estranged relation with a mother as time warps, bends and melds into other stranger dimensions as the beautiful camera work and meticulous sets bring the heart hammering flow of dreams stopped...then to start ticking away within the film. As near to dreamworld surrealist drifts into the subconsious as ever likely to be rendered in film.
Turn the soundtrack up when watching, as this brings out another hidden dimension within its murk ridden depths, an avant garde collation of moaning, birds and proto industrial sounds.
Whereas Lynch lost a plot in Inland Empire this shows how it should really have been depicted- built behine the Iron Curtain in 1973, highlighting another sensibility, breathing within the seething humdrum of outwardly communistic lives hiding a deep well of emotional literacy.
This is one of the greatest counter cultural films of modernity sitting next to El Topo and anything Jodorowsky assembled.