A wordless, hallucinogenic dreamscape of 8mm experimentation, in which Jarman attempts to tap into something mystical, even primordial, lurking within the English countryside. The film certainly makes for a hypnotic experience, though one can't help suspect that its true, immersive power, was in being experienced as intended; as something projected across the four walls of darkened room.
Trancey imagery whose generally arbitrary fragments make a rhapsodic whole. A film where meaning isn't added by soundtrack (despite various live iterations), remaining strikingly visual and an inch or so closer to pure cinema with obvious nods to Anger. There's little meaning beyond the motifs but as a visual wash it's effective.
I saw a screening of this when Throbbing Gristle played at Logan Square Auditorium, Chicago in 2009. The four (this was before Sleazy's death), armed with laptops, probably running AbletonLive or something, created an improvised score to the film. Perhaps my rating is a bit biased.