Instructions for a Light and Sound Machine

In this "attempt to transform a Roman Western into a Greek Tragedy", the unique and possibly great experimental avant gardist Peter Tscherkassky, essentially, f*cks around with footage from the classic Sergio Leone film "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly" until it fully transforms into his own twisted, disorienting, and intense work of tragic art. At sixteen minutes, the film feels much longer, but it's far too fascinating to look at and think about for me to really hate on it in any way. Even if it really is just some pretentious project, the emotional and semi-physical responses it shook out of me are too powerful to gloss over in an attempt to sassily criticize something I actually think I really liked...maybe I loved it...maybe I really hate it deep down inside. It's a hard film on many levels, no doubt about it. It's nauseating, the sound effects and visuals and insane experimental editing...it's all naturally and intentionally uneasy, uncomfortable, tense and terrifying and I don't know if you should watch it but you should.

Austrian experimental filmmaker Peter Tscherkassky inserts Sergio Leone's iconic spaghetti western The Good, The Bad and The Ugly in the meat grinder of his optical printer and proceeds to rip it to shreds and rearrange it back into a tangled network woven with walls of white noise, epileptic negative images coalescing with their positive selves and tiny particles of movement broken out of their proper place and stripped of all direction. What remains is a swarm of splinters, shards of image flying directionless, furrowed with the traces of the manual process of production. Tuco being hanged a thousand times. Angeleyes' telescope burning holes of image in a black frame, out of these holes a face emerging, seeing invoking the object of its desire. Like other Tscherkassky works, it's a painful watch that is guaranteed to make your eyes bleed. It will be of interest to those searching for new ways to dissect cinematic form but I'm not sure about the rest.

This short film tries to maximize its own reputation by using the names of actors who have never played in it.

I wonder how someone can register a work here or anywhere else by distorting the works of others!

Contentless and staggering in a boundless way and the most absurd video I have ever seen!

Even if an inexperienced person had written permission from the owners of these works, he would not have made such an edit!

This video is not worth 600 words. My only suggestion can be that even a second of time to see or hear something like this is useless and a waste of time.

I hope that after 20 years, a series of inspections will be formed.

This is one of the most unnerving experiences I've ever had in my life. Not just with movies, but in my life. I think I mean this as a compliment... I think. Certainly this gives new meaning to when we call movies 'hypnotic'. As a major fan of The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, and especially Eli Wallach in that film, seeing what Tscherkassky does to his performance in the film, how he moves on the screen (along with other close-ups), is so unsettling because he has taken Leone and fused it with a... bit of Stan Brakhage perhaps, as far as Cinema as Total Abstract Art Process, and mixed in a critique on cinema itself.

We're seeing this footage as part of a 'test' that a man is doing with a film projector. So in place of Ennio Morricone's score, or most of Wallach's audible dialog, we get what might be comparable to whatever the hell Lou Reed did on his Metal Machine Music album. It's industrial noises to go along with this display in 16 minutes of what happens when Tuco is practically *trapped* in his own film (we see many of those moments as he walks or rides or is stuck in a noose or, especially, as he runs through the graveyard in the climax, and for the first time there's no Ecstasy of Gold here).

I was transfixed by what this director did with this because the editing, if it is even editing at all (it carries that feel, like Brakhage of being created right before your eyes, spontaneously, like it's a true stream of consciousness effort), is so rapid-fire. It's arguably TOO rapid-fire, to the point that I'd say that if you are prone to seizures or epilepsy.... ah, screw it, you only live once, check it out and see if you can live through it, like eating a 5 pound burger in one sitting or something! But in all seriousness, this is an incredible artistic feat, while at the same time is loaded with a lot to question about the work: is it because Leone's canvas is so vast and epic, those close-ups and just Wallach in general such a key figure that it lends itself to a deconstruction of what makes movies, literally, TIC?

The fusion of black and white, frame-per-edit (or faster really) and the mess of noise that accompanies this makes for an experience that is fairly traumatic, yet I mean that as a compliment. You feel like you truly went through something seeing this.