American kitsch at its ripest - and creepiest. Perhaps had I dropped acid prior to viewing it the film's grotesque abstract musical sequences would have kicked me over the moon, but, as I was unfortunate enough to see this in a state of total sobriety, they only greatly added to the discomfort I felt at the sight of the bananas atop Carmen Miranda's head, the lunatic gleam in her eyes.
For me the key image of the film is the one above, the banana funnel, because this is how I imagined the whole film – an upside down image of the psyche as commonly portrayed: a timid icicle of waking consciousness above an ocean of repression, from where the roars of ancient uncivil dinosaurs rise up to haunt our dreams and imprint our automatic gestures. The Gang’s All Here is an iceberg mockingly standing on its
Does Debord's critique of spectacle as appearance fetishism need to be modified when the (very commercial, trascendentally kitsch) appearance is so formally delirious as to shade off into abstract avant-garde? What can the profit-motive appropriate but self-parody?
The heyday of Berkeley's cinema, the filmmaker that with the sequence-shot created an unmatched architecture of "trompe l'oeil", through cinema's own expressivity: by his camera-eye, the space is the consequence of a rigorous, dizzying and whirlwind choreography, in progressive spiral. Berkely was the creator of the image-dance while the spectator-eye dance with it, dancing within.