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ennui/langeweile: a feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement
on 17 October 2016
Imagine if you will that someone has heavily sedated Jess Franco on one of his least enthused days during bram stokers dracula, pointed the camera at the most drab still life of some fruit in a bowl by a dutch painter no one has heard of, drained the vitality out of some decent actors whilst dropping some pasolini rejects amongst the naturalistic mundanity of existence by parachutes made of one hundred percent school play. Now stand stiffly delivering lines waiting for the editors eyes to stop glazing over as he or she, or indeed it, picks scabs of paint from the underside of a basin of dank brackish water in slo-mo. Carefully, or imperiously [tediously], tip-toe up to any plot point in the leaden narrative and sink your pointy ratty mouse-chops into the firm flesh of mr and mrs boredom buttocks.
Jean Rollin, Jess Franco et al, have the poetic wherewithall to carry this potentially solemn funerary pace off, more often than not. Indeed, most drunk teenagers with a phone could make a superior short film than this mire of crapulence. If the intent was to see how long it takes for Kinski to skitter up to a piece of cheese then this failed as a film, wherein space is filled with time and time filled with uh, an abyss. Makes for some good still shots, but as for a film of feature length this is not unlike being trapped in a broken lift with someone who has taken fifty valium & is even now, talking themselves to sleep before your very eyes. Herzog tries too hard to be gloom ridden in every single frame for me to give the proverbial toss when the credits roll. Apparently it loses a lot in translation, when not viewed as the fluent german version. Don't care anymore. This has drained me not only of the will to live, the will to power, but the will to maintain a blood flow through my heart.
Somewhere in a faustian heaven, Murnau must be laughing his proverbial jiggly bits off. Sinister this is not. A new genre, goth-trite.