• Fractals: The Colors Of Infinity

    Fractals: The Colors Of Infinity

    ok what is there to say really....i'm excited about film which unsews the stitching of knowledge production, the boundaries drawn between science and art, and reattaches them in strange new ways....provokes the question of how organicity emerges, the levels unwinding themselves downwards like dna unzipping, waiting to encode grander designs, technology used to generate and resolve digital images the inverse operation of what the us government uses to observe and control us......the possibility of new worlds contained in the old,…

  • The Living Dead Girl

    The Living Dead Girl


    the two little girls and their music box.

    i am your death

  • My Soul to Take

    My Soul to Take


    in an absolutely bonkers minor key, embellished with one of the strangest senses of space and interconnectivity i've seen in a slasher, and traipsing through an absurd wealth of thinly sketched but ultimately quite compelling ideas about trauma and masculinity and mythology, a solid late effort indeed. fractured identities flee into in the next generation, and, failing to escape their pain and guilt, one by one fold back into the lone survivor, as only the living remain to bear witness,…

  • Toolbox Murders

    Toolbox Murders

    the history of brute power is plastered to the very walls, newspapers lining a moldering catacomb which is equally a shrine to the parasitic, quasi-sexual jouissance and vitality the demonic bourgeois of hollywood (in alliance with the military-industrial complex) derives from the pain and death of the poor. grimy, staged, and theatrical: this is a performance, through and through, although the irony of one of hooper's more workmanlike (if certainly not journeyman) efforts being named after its macabre, gothic perversion…

  • She Dies Tomorrow

    She Dies Tomorrow


    seimetz's work is fleet and multivalent in its semiotics, not performing arthouse charlatanisms of vaporous suggestion but rather operating in a dialectic between the concrete and abstract realities of affect. this dialectic unfolds in outward-spiralling epicyclic transformations, prominently realized in the rapturous hallucinations that signal the onset of certain mortality for the quotidian maladapted. trauma exists as a half-spoken omnipresence, but moreso in the viscera and microbiome of the film's most aesthetically outre gestures than in its elliptical, temporally disjoint…

  • Fireworks




  • Lot in Sodom

    Lot in Sodom


    in contrast to Kenneth Anger's Fireworks, which posits gay desire as flammable, incendiary, always ready to erupt in a burst of violence and be reborn, here it is fire itself, and, further, the fire which consumes itself. from below, from above, there is flame, consumption, destruction, sometimes avaricious and sometimes punitive, bodies melt and flicker, dreams bleed through reality and awaken the holy. the spectator becomes entombed through and for that very act, frozen in eternal contemplation of the spectacle of abject desire's abject end. wish it were more pornographic tho if we're being honest

  • Let's Scare Jessica to Death

    Let's Scare Jessica to Death


    begins so placid, with the approach of a hearse and a lovely tombstone sketch, but builds into genuine hysteria, in an almost prototypical, skeletal sense (this is a "Psychotic Woman" movie stripped to its barest parts and yet to call those parts bare seems to belie their craft and texture, which is exquisite, patient). heartbreaking too, as she doubts herself even to the very end, gaslit and disbelieved and tossed aside and oh so afraid, it's hard not recognize jessica,…

  • The Iron Rose

    The Iron Rose


    eros and thanatos in the putrefying, lovely memory of no one in particular, a parable of when real and fake flowers ought to be given. bellicose and predatory lust, a fearful and then manic-triumphant chase, just as much an aesthetic companion to Scooby Doo as it is to Ovid, "you dead, we alive" echoing Alucarda's distinction between the worship of life (and the body) and the worship of death (and the immortal soul). truly there is nothing of substance for…

  • Mysterious Skin

    Mysterious Skin


    tender clutches,
    run run run
    i am thinking of you

  • Eggshells



  • Celine



    vanished souls and astronaut gods, a study in the newtonian motion of grace through the world, its restless flow and the alluvial hollows it carves in its shape. it is learned through practices of care, not for ourselves, but for others, such that we might unlearn our trite miseries: what we seek to create is a vast, lovely emptiness within ourselves, a desert and a beach. but grace is a hard thing to bear, and the miracles that attend it…