The Endless Film

Jo

Does coincidence exist? Or is life, our lives, a construct like this film -seemingly without logic and yet a linear unbreakable series of dreams, places, encounters. Which ends. Like this film. And every crew member or actor, dead and forgotten. Still, the film, the soul, keeps existing.

Sarah Pietsch

Surprisingly good if you let yourself drift into it. Reminded me a bit of The Clock by Christian Marclay, although there weren’t many clocks, if any. But snippity bits of about 20 or so films, some of which come several times, so you have a kind of disjointed progression. Some great images too.

Krish sanghvi

If I were a film maker, this is the sort of movie I’d make- a film for the eyes but not the brain; a film about the process and feeling, and not the narrative. I somehow find avant garde films really meditative.

Erik F.

Intriguing concept, but unfortunately (inevitably?) a rather dull and disjointed viewing experience.

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The random and sometimes quirky sequence of scenes seems to imply a deeper narrative and I'm sure people willing to believe in that could find one here. The absence of audio leaves a lot of room for the viewers interpretation, but maybe there is nothing to interpret at all. All I see are are random shots of failed B movies.

Dan Kenneth Gigernes

If only someone would care enough for all lost projects and do something like this for them it would have been better for them. Would be nice to know more about the individual projects and why they Failed but guess that is for myself to find out at a later time.

Ally

Re-purposing film fragments has produced striking renewals. At first sight here, there is just occasional interest, as protagonists pursue uprooted and incomplete adventures. But midway comes a 1970s propaganda clip celebrating authoritarianism. Some unsettling elements acquire new valency: the outline body and soldier statue, a prisoner hooded in a bath, even figures falling into a pool - a sense of the broken.

dionysus67

Regrettably, the only thing that works here is the imitation of 1970s color film, presented in slightly 'damaged' prints. This aesthetic decision aligns with Argentina's troubled history but is occluded by the film's post-modern fetishization of disjunction which is served badly not so much by the fine cartoon inserts but rather from an uninteresting use of b/w in an uneven collage of imagination's scattered flakes.