Friday’s Holy Trinity HT002
by sfe medusa
Friday’s Holy Trinity is a weekly review of three films, pieces or records that, when consumed together, result in a state of total cosmic symbiosis.
The reason for the pious entwinement of this week’s trio is because they’re all some kind of odd proof that ideas live longer than man. Paranoia, sorrow, morbid lust. Daaaaaamn, girl got a holy trinity and a HALF.
The comedy of I Am Not A Witch fluctuates between farce and pathos; it’s funny because the group mentality of a culture means they truly believe that this pre-pubescent “witch”, dressed up like an avant-garde scarecrow and paraded around by the human equivalent of a blocked artery, has the nasty mystical powers that can smell crime and curse innocents, but it’s also desperately bleak that said blocked artery sees this only as an opportunity to guiltlessly exploit a child, and encourage the kind of stigma that can banish an entire community, keeping them forever tethered away from a normal life.
The ribbon reels strike this exact note of awe, restriction and nominative burden,
and cinematographer David Gallego uses them to structure a frame in a way that will bore right through you, just like the notes of Joe (surname unintelligible): the bassist in some aged live recordings of performances by John Lee Hooker and his band.
The human figures look like a Gerhard Richter painting but the sound is like HD on crack, floating like a delicate mist induced and maintained by its players.
And lastly, Eros.
I like how this elegant and decadent-sounding Greek name spelt backwards can be equated to something much more smutty, but you would be confused by what really is smut when leafing (scrolling?) through the digital version of this esoteric erotica. It’s all naughty postures and dripping language, that coy feeling that gets miserably lost post-courting, or perhaps post-coitus.