Poesía sin fin

"Every path is my path."

In this autobiographical film, Jodorowsky has his father, played by his son, making love to his mother, and himself, played by another son, carousing from one woman to the next. As usual with him, anything goes, and nothing is taboo. It's kind of sweet that his vision of his mother is a giving person who always sings her lines, and his domineering father, intent on having his son become a doctor, is quite a contrast. The final moments between father and son, where the real Jodorowsky intervenes and with the benefit of age, constructs a better ending, is touching.

Mostly the story of Jodorowsky surrounding himself with fellow artists and kindred spirits, at times the film seemed a little self-serving and threatened to become banal with its platitudes that were along the lines "be yourself," but there was something pure about him trying to communicate his story and guiding principles, seen through the warping of a surrealist perspective. The principles are given to us rather directly, often by the elderly Jodorowsky himself, resulting in a film that's more accessible / less surrealistic, and more heartfelt / less artistic, which can be a good or bad thing depending on your point of view. Personally, I liked it, and saw it as Jodorowsky's version of himself in the same vein as Bergman's Fanny and Alexander (among others), something that felt every bit as personal and presented with the director's unique aesthetic.

A few more quotes, some more poetic than others, but the truths the elderly Jodorowsky wanted to communicate about life: "My aim is to return to what I have always been."

"Where there are ears but no song in this evanescent world, Where the Being surrenders to the undeserving, I am more my footprints than my steps."

"What is the meaning of life?" "Life! The brain asks questions, the heart gives the answers. Life does not have meaning, you have to live it! Live! Live! Live!"

"Life is a game. You have to laugh at everything, even the worst things!"

"Old age is not a humiliation. You detach yourself from everything. From sex, from wealth, from fame. You detach yourself from yourself. You turn into a butterfly, a radiant butterfly, a being of pure light!"

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.

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.

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.