Endless Poetry

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.

This is one of my favorite movies of all time! Thank you. rating = infinity hearts

Endless Poetry is absolutely, incessantly, unceremoniously weird, but kind of astonishing. In other words, a typical Jodorowsky film. Continuing his saga of semi-autobiographical films, this tells the tale of Jodorowsky in youth discovering the power of poetry and living out a culturally enriched, eccentric fantasy. T he film is immediately arresting, by virtue of its strangeness. People in black suits appear to take items out of characters hands at random moments across the film. One of the characters sings every line she has, for no explicable reason. There is so much imagery packed into each frame that any attempt to understand their meaning is pointless. Endless Poetry is amovie that most people would probably not have the patience for. Under objective terms, it verges on incoherent, pretentious, unintentionally funny and flagrantly self-aggrandising (imagine if Scorsese, Nolan or even David O'Russell decided to make a trilogy of films about their own lives) where very little makes sense. But Jodorowsky films defy categorisation. There's this peculiar, unique spell the film takes on where a minority of the audience will become enraptured in the pure strangeness, as well as Jodorowsky's infectious enthusiasm and "joie de vivre" that pours out of every frame.

Being a Jodorowsky fan I enjoyedthis, but this film is certainly not for every one. However if you arelooking for something incredibly different to watch, perhaps you willfind the endearing, beautiful, non-hagiographic ode to life that i found, or you will hate it and switch it off after ten minutes. For me, anyway, it was a film that offered many rewards, especially as Jodorowsky is a filmmaker so wondrously unique that anything he makes is immediately compelling.

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 is no doubt that Poesía Sin Fin represents the highest and most astounding manifestation of Jodorowsky's cinematic work.

The Film is a pure, honest and unpretentious expression of the director's youth. It is a journey which takes us by the hand and invites us to see the world differently, through the eyes of the poet ; for whom the possibility of a Life filled with drive, desire, wonder and ultimately, freedom, liberated him from the person he was not.

A must-see masterpiece rich with many many layers of interpretation ; from the most naive youth-driven imaginary to the deepest most mature form of reflection and expression.

Cinema that heals, cinema that explores, cinema that inspires, truly and deeply.