bitch, I’m boujee and pretentious
a quiet meditation. sharp and precise, but sheathed in a cloak, masking its anger and building in its rage. oddly enough, there’s an understanding for me in this sort of food for thought feeling permeating through our main character’s unassuming mute mind. seeing the feeling exemplified in one’s fiery madness work it’s way up to the ending is quite relatable if thought of in the right mindset. for how little is said throughout, it’s quite evident how much is felt.
clever piece utilizing minimalist techniques to drive home its foray into emotional anguish and destain.
i dont know whats more wild
the scene where Jean Louis Trintignant slams on the drums while watching Ewa Aulin strip then goes full Looney Tunes horny, screams like tarzan, then swings on a rope crashing into her after which he quotes Michelangelo Antonioni
Tinto don’t give a fuck man
Shortly after watching, I sat in my seat in stunned silence for a few minutes. I slowly arose and recomposed myself as I walked out the theatre. As I entered my car I slowly descended back into a stunned, silent stare off into space. I then realized that I was so enraptured by the atmosphere I was just introduced to that I didn’t want the hypnotic drone spell casting me under a light daze to end.
So, I turned on Sunn O))) and it didn’t. Phenomenal film.