[rating=8.00]
Alejandro Jodorowsky doesn’t make movies so much as craft experiences. The Chilean-French poet/artist/shaman has no interest in taking you on a traditional narrative journey where B follows A and things progress in an orderly fashion. No, that would belie not just his intent as an artist, but his intent as a being.
His mission in life—in poetry—has been to crash the veil between our senses and the world, and between our selves and our senses, to achieve some kind of purity of absolute existence. Knowing this is the first step in experiencing any of Jodorowsky’s works, be they written or seen. Trust nothing, least of all your brain, with its insistence on questioning meaning, and submit yourself fully to the sublimation of surreality.
So it is with Endless Poetry, the second of Jodorowsky’s planned five-part cinematic memoir (following 2013’s The Dance of Reality). Here is a world—our world—filtered through the lens of the fantastic, presented as only a mind such as Jodorowsky can present it, painted by a brush of absolute surrealism.
Endless Poetry follows Jodorowsky (played here by his son, Adan Jodorowsky) as he comes of age, finding himself as both a person and a poet in the streets of Santiago. The narrative reveals itself through the use of mythic symbolism and poetry, presenting a hyper-stylized world of fantasy as remembered by the auteur.
Dreamlike in presentation, we watch as the young Jodorowsky breaks free of his parents’ grasp on his life, choosing instead a new family of bohemian poets and artists as the writer attempts to live a life of pure poetry. The effect is jolting; as shown, you’d be wrong to question the ultimate reality of what’s presented in this memoir—this is life shown through the benefit of memory, and a memory such as Jodorowsky’s will be colored by an artist’s shamanic eye. Whether or not the events, as depicted, are true is immaterial. The truth lies in the experience.
Most audiences will no doubt be turned off by the absurdity of Endless Poetry—his mother speaks only in opera, a friend moves only as a ballerina—and unable to open themselves to the kind of truth being presented by Jodorowsky. As an artist, he’s made it his life’s work to challenge and provoke, to open minds beyond that which is comprehensible, and Endless Poetry is, to that end, no different than any of the rest of his works.
For beginners, at any rate. Those pre-seasoned by the works of Jodorowsky will be shocked by the (relative) accessibility of Endless Poetry. Compared to earlier works, the film is remarkably comprehensible, even while swimming in an ocean of the absurd. This also makes Endless Poetry the easiest entry point for the uninitiated, though the word “easy” should be taken, here, with a grain of salt. Never mind that it’s a sequel—you don’t need to have seen The Dance of Reality to appreciate or understand Endless Poetry. This is a singular work, that stands on its own.
And what a beautiful work it is. Jodorowsky has come into his own as a filmmaker, moving far past cult midnighters like El Topo. While the film falters and drags somewhat in the middle, it’s never not interesting. Even when the narrative appears to be treading water, the stunning cinematography of Christopher Doyle. Color and movement come alive, creating a symphony of cinematic poetry that will enrapture and delight.
Endless Poetry is easily Jodorowsky’s best film, fully realizing his view of the world like nothing he’s made (or written) has ever done before. It’s a challenging film, but beyond its cinematic labyrinth lies the purest beauty. Jodorowsky has opened the window to his soul as wide as it can be flung, giving us what might be the most astounding peek inside the life and worldview of an artist as we’ve ever seen.
Endless Poetry is now playing in limited release.
