Endless Poetry

Endless Poetry Depict alejandro jodorowsky teenage years and young adulthood, and how he became a poet and an artist.

The movie is in no way a Slave to realism, I am sure it shows his real life story, but as it felt and how he can put an artful touch on it. It doesn't hold back it shows the darkest part and worst part of his life and even if it may be gives into his ego sometimes. It is still willing to pick him down.

The movie so interesting. The first movie filled like the alejandro coming to terms with his father and mother and the early childhood. This one it's much more about his artistic Awakening and how he became an adult with his own thought and feeing.

This movie likes the first one has that wonderful feeling of a man who have lived a long life, and is now finding a way to tell it, in the most interesting artistic way.

The location looks amazing, the sit design looks amazing, just every part of the movie The costumes, the disabled, dwarves. It just a movie that has everything to give a life texture.

The use of non-actors is spectacular, they are willing to do things that you would not expect known actors with egos to do. They are willing to do go the extra mile for the directors Vision.

And all of alejandro jodorowsky Sons are playing it amazingly.

Life told in a surreal way can be wonderful to see, and can get feelings through effectively. A great director last film poetry. Would recommend.

88 year old art, poetry, movie, theatre and spirituality guru Alejandro Jodorowsky returns with another bonkers screen story about his youth, which does not resemble any other thing you may be used to catching at your local multiplex. Jodorowsky's younger self is played by his 37 year old son Adan – think Andy Samberg without a stupid grin – and the story narrates the artist's youth during which he liberated himself from all of his former limitations, including strict parents, and was introduced into the bohemian artistic circle of 1940s Chile. If you are like me – familiar mostly with mainstream cinema and not familiar with Jodorowsky at all – „Poesía sin fin" („Endless Poetry") will be most curious experience indeed. The 128-minute journey resembles experimental play rather than movies as we like to think about them in traditional sense, but in this case, it's a good thing. The resulting comic-dramatic-weirdness explosion is packing so many enjoyable things and details to digest that only very smart people really „get it", probably. But first and foremostly, art is not for the mind, and just by watching I can tell that the movie has lot of heart. It could probably benefit from being shorter, the last third feels a bit stretched out – maybe because the visual side feels so rich and inventive that it wears many down eventually. But the whole thing is so unusual and good-weird that it's easy to recommend it. If you watch at least ten minutes from the start, you will know if this kind of thing is right for you. Even if it's not your cup of tea, you would probably like some parts of Jodorowsky's seemingly endless inventiveness and wackiness. It may go on for too long, but the ending is powerful, especially if you are familiar with depth psychology and symbolics related with it. Jodorowsky is. During his colorful life, the man has founded his own therapeutic practice psychomagic which uses aspects of eastern philosophies, mysticism and psychoanalysis to heal patients with emotional problems. You know, just saying.

Alejandro Jodorowsky's visually-exaggerated fantastical portrayal of his own past continues, beginning by cleverly playing off imagery from the first film, THE DANCE OF REALITY (2013), and thus making it clear that this is an ongoing narrative.

In this case we see young boy Alejandro arriving in Santiago Chile with his strong-willed father and his mother with her unique form of communicating... There, he grows into a teenager and then a young man who discovers his greatest desire is to become a poet, against the wishes of his father. Leaving his family he seeks out other artists and the unhindered artist lifestyle. The unique characters he meets on his journey...well, that's a big part of the story.

There were a couple scenes in this film that seemed slightly self indulgent, which detracted from the feeling of complete pure story that I experienced with the first film. But that's not intended as a strong criticism of the entire film. It felt like a middle film in a trilogy sometimes feels, having it's points to make. Overall, it's an entertaining continuation and is at times emotionally powerful.

The original plan was to film five "memoirs" total...I hope he makes it to the end.

Outré Chilean cult stylist Alejandro Jodorowsky has broken a protracted 23 year hiatus in 2013 with THE DANCE OF REALITY, an autobiographic treatment based on his own memoir, and ENDLESS POETRY is its sequel, in the beginning, departed from his hometown Tocopilla, a teen Alejandro (Herskovits) is transferred to Santiago with his parents Jaime (Brontis Jodorowsky, Alejandro's eldest son in real life) and Sara (Flores), all three continue their roles from TDOR.

Exhorted by his martinetish father to become a doctor, the gawky Alejandro takes a rebellious act in plumping for poetry as an outlet, introduced by his gay cousin Ricardo (Carrasco), he leaves home and stays with a cohort of amateur artists and soon an adult Alejandro (played by musician Adan Jodorowsky, Alejandro's youngest son) meets the avant-garde poetess Stella Díaz Varín (Flores too), overwhelmed by her prowess over his manhood, a wide-eyed Alejandro subjects himself to her whims but eventually thinks better of it (after the taste of forbidden fruit). Later he founds camaraderie in fellow poet Enrique Lihn (Taub), but his over-closeness with the latter's dwarf girlfriend Pequeñita (Avendaño) strains their friendship. Eventually, disaffected by General Carlos Ibáñez's ascension to power, Alejandro bids farewell to his friends and motherland, embarks a trip to Paris before squaring up with Jaime whom he will never meet again, told by his old self (Alejandro in person), a second chance only can be conjured up in its filmic illusion.

First and foremost, the octogenarian maestro still has his outlandish style in check, his trademark magic realism, wedded confidently with an ultra theatrical tableau (that old haunt Cafe Iris, peppered with soporific patrons and senile waiters in its subdued timber), grants his audience a sumptuous feast of chromatic plethora: those varicolored decor, a boisterous shindig, a risqué tarot seance, a devil-cum-death parade, not to mention bold sex exploitation, nothing can curb Mr. Jodorowsky's imagination and recollections, in this sense, the film is a perfect ode to his youth and a left-field Chile of that time. But, yes, there is always a "but", what takes the film's appeal down a peg or two is its relinquishment of mystique, of poetic-ism, of art and of life itself in lieu of visual impact. Its dialog fails to capture the subtlety of words and the film is overtly plain in recounting the vicissitude of incidences, the usage of poetry is self-consciously verbal and evanescent, we are not given enough time to dwell on its connotations before the story rambles on in its episodic reveries.

Adan Jodorowsky's central performance is adequate at best, affable but far from an engrossing raconteur; Brontis Jodorowsky, on the other hand, sometimes falls into unnecessary cothurnus as if his monstrous father figure is not repugnant enough; but it is Pamela Flores, in her magnificent double roles, one as a domestic mother embodied solely by soprano, another is the red-hair, buxom dominatrix, sets the screen ablaze in addition to the Oedipal tie-in.

Admittedly, poetry is always a thorny subject to get its full treatment with cinematic parameters, Jodorowsky's attempt has its benign intention, but doesn't give justice to the soul of poetry, nevertheless, it is still a stunning achievement of reminiscence and self-confession, with this auteur's flourish.

There's hope for the return of Jodo in the first scenes, where the real street is transformed by roll down monochrome photo mural drapes into the street of his youth and we see the child in the shop where his dinero-dominated dad encourages him to put the boot into shop lifters, stripping them naked in the street while his singing mum creates strawberry sponge cakes like the one her brother choked on for her tortured mum.

However it soon becomes obvious that we are in for two hours plus of not very clever ideas punctuated by some striking images in Christopher Doyle's brilliant colours and some kinky sex that loses it's shock impact at this length. Concepts - the broken mirror,monochrome Cafe Iris, real Jodo's appearances, the bunraku black covered scenery changers, the circle of bohemian artists led by the pierette - come back not as motifs but as indications that the maker has run out of new ideas.

We get about half an hour of great material buried in the pretentious and increasingly un-funny stodge.