A submarine crew, a feared pack of forest bandits, a famous surgeon, and a battalion of child soldiers all get more than they bargained for as they wend their way toward progressive ideas on life and love.
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Fiel a su peculiar estilo, el canadiense Guy Maddin invita al espectador a adentrarse en un onírico juego de cajas chinas, el cuál puede verse como un homenaje o nostalgica declaración de amor por el cine en 35mm, consiguiendo, de paso, trascender las convenciones de la narrativa tradicional cinematográfica al convertir a la audiencia en participes activos de una fascinante orgia audiovisual.
What if I told you that desperate post-processing will not ameliorate the gap between what the big screen allows and what our mind can cognize from oneiric brain farts? All in all, a highly screenshootable and quotable effort. I predict a total of at least 68 new tumblr followers arriving just today after having posted some sexy scenes from this. *chi-hi-hi*
I've always hated Maddin's aesthetic, and it was always quite clear that he was influenced by the worst period of cinema history which you could feel in his form; but this film takes the cake, and will probably be the worst I will see all year, and maybe of my life. Absolutely horrendous.
Like an ADD acid dream, and an invigorating shot in the arm. A funny and uniquely textural experimental film plays like a cinematic version of the Surrealist "exquisite corpse" game. It's rare to a film this aesthetically experimental be this silly and cheeky. The textural experiments make the film feel alive, as if the celluloid were a living, breathing organism. It's thrilling.
Review published at Next Projection
[REVIEW] 95/100 - THE FORBIDDEN ROOM (Guy Maddin)
It is uproarious, and there is no other film like it. This is cinema as a form of thought—cinema as consciousness.
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Unholy Christ! Maddin and his collaborators have finally gotten to the point of enacting a genuine cartography of the neural apparatus. This thing is a brain (and attendant networks), fit to be endlessly prodded. In the absence of George Toles we are still basically getting George Toles. Praise the lord. Since the short The Heart of the World, it is clear that Maddin has become cinema's greatest DJ. A web of dreams.
I unintentionally read too much lit on this work pre-view. First 30 had me mouth agape, the rest, okay, okay... I get it, near nauseating frizzle, fizzle, pow. But, two weeks later it is still permeating my brain; thick mucus still running down my throat. Yes. I'm almost certain this film has intoxicated me with phlegm I am unable to abstain...