Herostratus

A surreal exploration of the potential endgame of the cynical capitalism behind Swinging London - and a vague play on the Faustian legend. A young man sells his suicide to an advertising agency in return for a month of luxury. The agency will market his suicide to advertisers, filming his jump from a high building past their posters in the windows. The price gets higher the nearer the ground. As a film it illustrated the hard edge to those loose days; I saw it in 1968 at the Everyman Cinema in Hampstead. Several people fled during some highly graphic abbatoir close-ups. Some of the acted images have never left me, particularly the hero walking into the agency director's office carrying an axe and sinking it into his desk. What a way to get attention! 35 years later I would really like to see this film again but for some reason it seems to have disappeared without trace ... Don Levy - you out there?

The 1960s was a weird time with lots of cultural experimentation. So, as a 20 year old in 1968, I went along to the Manchester Film Theatre to see this British independent avant-garde film with an open mind. I found it one of the strangest movies I'd seen but described it in my diary as "superb" and commented: "I would certainly like to see it again." Yet, for the next 40 years, the film was inaccessible and only in 2007 did the British Film Institute intervene to make it available once more. It took me another five years to rent it via Lovefilm. But, in all that time, the stunning imagery lived with me and in particular I was haunted by a scene towards the end in which a woman (Gabriella Licudi) sobs in despair.

Written and directed by Don Levy, it was the only full-length film he ever made and it is a long (142 minutes) and slow work distinguished by its innovativeness and opacity. The narrative is pretty minimal and therefore can be briefly stated: a very angry young man called Max (Michael Gothard) decides he has had enough of life and offers an advertising company the opportunity to exploit his public suicide. This explains the erudite title: Herostratus was an Ancient Greek arsonist who destroyed the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, and his name has become a metonym for someone who commits a criminal act in order to become famous.

The film looks and sounds amateurish and indeed had a tiny budget (but took six years from conception to completion). However, clearly Levy wanted some of the dialogue to be hard to hear and some of the scenes to be difficult to watch. One of the most startling and memorable sequences inter cuts the dancing of a sexy woman with the butchering of a dead animal and one of the most inexplicable (but again memorable) images is of a parasol-carrying woman clad in black with a white face. This is a work full of odd interjections ranging from the voice of the elderly Malcom Muggeridge to a near-wordless burlesque by a very young Helen Mirren in her first film role. There are extracts from semi-contemporary newsreels scattered about the film which seem to be inviting us to question what kind of world we have created.

Seeing "Herostratus" after such a long interval and at the more mature age of 66, I found that I was less tolerant of the pretentiousness of the whole thing but still captivated by the bewildering images. Also I was disturbed to read after the viewing that both the director and the lead actor subsequently committed suicide.

10/09

Like others who have written here about HEROSTRATUS, I too saw this amazing and unforgettable film in the early 70's. I have subsequently longed to see it again.

This film is what I like to call "transformative" cinema. Tranformative in the way the films of Bergman, Pasolini, Godard & DaSica can be. You may detest this film. But, you will not easily forget it.

I'd also like to say that if you like the novels of J.G.Ballard, particularly the books of the 70's, you will probably appreciate this film. I've always considered it particularly "Ballardian". This film grabs corporate capitalism by the throat. Yes, it is cynical.

I am happy to report that Herostratus is now available on DVD. It can be obtained at Amazon UK.

A struggling, psychologically unbalanced poet decides to commit suicide and convinces a top marketing expert to promote it to the general public via the media. The title references this destructive behaviour in that Herostratus was a character from ancient Greek mythology who destroyed one of the Seven Wonders of the World in order to achieve fame.

This British underground film was unseen for close to forty years before it was resurrected by the BFI. It is a very odd film indeed, pretty much fully an avant-garde piece. The story-line is essentially quite basic and not a huge amount of plot really happens, which for a 142min film is unusual. For me, by far the most interesting thing about this one was its visual ideas. It's a film which is relentlessly experimental in approach with elements of surrealism. The memorable visuals are often achieved by way of very bold editing techniques used throughout, where contrasting images are juxtaposed with each other. There is recurring imagery used extensively, including a mysterious black clad woman wandering the backstreets of London, an exotic dancer interspersed with images from a slaughterhouse, old newsreels and many billboard advertisements. There is a hell of a lot more than this as well but this is a film which throws a lot at you and it can be hard recalling precisely everything that occurs. There is a mixture between very long single takes and fast edits, the former are used for dramatic intensity. Michael Gothard is the lead here and he is an actor associated with intense performances, so he is a good fit it has to be said. The film overall is certainly a fascinating watch but it is slow in places and there are patches where it does get a bit tedious. The narrative was semi-interesting but the visual invention is really what it's worth seeing for and it is for sure a film that should be seen by those drawn towards experimental cinema. Look out too for an appearance of a very young Helen Mirren.

Herostratus screened at the Orson Welles theatre in Cambridge (Mass.) for two weeks in (I think) 1968. At a party in New York a few years later, I met the owner of a theatre (I can't recall any names, alas) where it played for three days; he said he detested it and withdrew it.

I have never been more moved by a film. I can compare it only to such transforming experiences as seeing L'Avventura in the early 'sixties, although the art of Herostratus is far more mysterious. The mystery is compounded by the great gulf of years that separates me from that screening, by the fact that almost nobody I meet has seen it or even heard of it, and by the apparent lack of any body of explication and commentary.

Without seeing it again I wouldn't attempt a precis of the plot, but what remains in memory is the cool classicism of the narrative(innocence vs. worldliness and levels of manipulativeness that Henry James might have appreciated) as mediated through an unobtrusive but arresting surrealism of technique.

It's been 35 years--I'd really like to revisit Herostratus.