Mekas is one of the most important filmmakers. As an American filmmaker, an immigrant filmmaker, a "he who remembers." He primarily remembers w/ his kino machine. He remembers achingly, in spasms, in pulses of light, in heavy grain. Form for him involves swirling, eddying, and dissipation. His films feel like they are disappearing, but they are asserting immortality; not their own immortality - immortality itself.
This is/not a documentary film. My understanding of cinema is altered. I didn't know till now that you could use it this way. The only other Jonas Mekas film I've seen didn't prepare me for this, filmmaking as the precise, intuitively curated, presentation of raw data to transmit the *experience* of the moment captured, rather than its reconstituted depiction. Extraordinary.
Although a short film, this collection of memories is of mixed merits, mainly because the last 20 minutes display an impressive decline in the power of image, topic and sound. Thus, following the VU gig and their 'art of noise' as well as the fragments from Warhol paintings the shift to the seaside degenerates into a maladroit and uninteresting memoir, unable to inspire, to create empathy and to hold one's attention.
There are many interesting frames and I do love how raw and scattered it is. However, it gets pretty boring when I reached the first 15 minutes; knowing that I still have to watch this kind of footages for another 20 minutes. If only this film last for about 15 minutes, I think would enjoy it more.
2.5 - One of Mekas weaker efforts - and a horrible horrible soundtrack. Quite a challenge to have to watch so many scenes of Warhol's plastic face which resembles a ventriloquist’s dummy, rather than a human!
I am more fascinated by our fascination with these subjects than I am fascinated by these subjects. With each passing year they grow more vain and solipsistic to me....and I wonder at my own youthful obsession with this vapid crowd: How I was enamored. Now they just bore me to tears. Pop Art probed the mythos of western culture to its extremes but so many more interesting things were going on during these years.
Un Jonas Mekas muy distinto al que han ofrecido en los largometrajes previos. Fluctúa entre el álbum familiar, muy íntimo, cierta experimentación tanto con la imagen como con el sonido, pero queda un gusto extraño: algo no encaja...la sola presencia de Warhol no es suficiente para cautivar y permitir un ingreso a un mundo más universal...