This outrageous farce, not for the faint-hearted, has to be one of the most bizarre films Fassbinder ever made and certainly one of the strangest films I've ever seen. Regular Fassbinder collaborator Kurt Raab is extraordinary as a womanizing author with writer's block. Surrounded by freaks, grotesques and perverts, he imagines himself as the reincarnation of gay German poet Stefan George. Kinky and wickedly funny...
Unmitigated megalomania at its frenetic best. Plus, Kurt Raab is hotter than any vacuous, pretty-boy actor in Hollywood by a country mile.
I've seen a few people refer to this as Fassbinder's worst film, but honestly I think it's pretty intelligent and though not in the traditional form of a "funny-ha-ha" comedy it has its own brand of black humor within Kranz's many trails to ultimate creative identity.