Fando and Lis depart in search of the magic City of Tar, which will probably offer a cure to Lis' legs in order to make her walk again, aside from granting eternal happiness to both of them. The Search: An early thematic goal to the director's later midnight classics El Topo and The Holy Mountain. Scandalous, and too sacrilegious for the audience at the Acapulco Film Festival, the film was subsequently dropped by the distributor in 1968. Fando and Lis remained obscure for over 30 years.
Alejandro Jodorowsky's long-lost feature debut film is uneven, but it's obvious that a raw energy and a torrent of imaginative ideas went into the making. Shot on weekends with a minuscule budget, casting friends and family, Fando and Lis plays like a cross of the later Fellini circus with the brutality of an early Buñuel film.
Structured as a road movie of sorts, our protagonists have bizarre encounters with an array of unpredictable characters. Many would call it violent, but there is a certain childlike quality in the staging: A burning piano is knocked over again and again in reverse motion; Mud bathers rise (a la Night of The Living Dead) at the base of a mountain; A knife perforates a little doll's crotch, and snakes are introduced in the crack. I could go on describing the stream of images that stuck with me, but you get the point: Watch the movie.
Trying to explain its meaning is beyond the point, as Jodorowsky himself stated: "I'm more attracted to what I don't understand." The symbolism ranges from light social satire to striking, brutal imagery. Same goes for the B&W cinematography, which alternates from bland hand-held "backyard style" to breathtakingly executed shots (see the wonderfully choreographed spiral movement when Fando abandons Lis in a pit, running up the hill in circles in the background while Lis laments in the foreground).
Yet Jodorowsky seems more invested at times in the power of his ideas than in their proper screen execution. The action is sometimes clunky and/or hampered by questionable editing choices. This inconsistency doesn't seem like a deliberate effect, since many sequences are conventionally but effectively cut. However, the use of music is quite expressive as well as many sound design choices.
Fando and Lis is not a perfect film, but "perfection" is an absurd term given the nature of the material. In any case, suffice to say that this feature debut resonates far more deeply than the sober, functional exercises that Hollywood chunks out every year, not to mention the "art-house mainstream" that permeates most of the Cannes Film Festival highlights of late.
Jodorowsky's work is often closer to performance art than it is to film, if we take film as an expression of consistent atmosphere and cinematic flow, illustrating ideas at the fully extent of the medium. The auteur expresses that as a filmmaker; he doesn't care whether the audience is bored or angry, he says a film should be made with your guts, without following any rules of cinematic grammar. The result is sometimes inconsistent but never disappointing.
In a world plagued by artistic concessions, Jodorowsky emerges as an artist with an unique voice, capable of delivering unforgettable images. His work is always refreshing and inspiring.
Alejandro Jodorowsky's long-lost feature debut film is uneven, but it's obvious that a raw energy and a torrent of imaginative ideas went into the making. Shot on weekends with a minuscule budget, casting friends and family, Fando and Lis plays like a cross of the later Fellini circus with the brutality of an early Buñuel film.
Structured as a road movie of sorts, our protagonists have bizarre encounters with an array of unpredictable characters. Many would call it violent, but there is a certain childlike quality in the staging: A burning piano is knocked over again and again in reverse motion; Mud bathers rise (a la Night of The Living Dead) at the base of a mountain; A knife perforates a little doll's crotch, and snakes are introduced in the crack. I could go on describing the stream of images that stuck with me, but you get the point: Watch the movie.
Trying to explain its meaning is beyond the point, as Jodorowsky himself stated: "I'm more attracted to what I don't understand." The symbolism ranges from light social satire to striking, brutal imagery. Same goes for the B&W cinematography, which alternates from bland hand-held "backyard style" to breathtakingly executed shots (see the wonderfully choreographed spiral movement when Fando abandons Lis in a pit, running up the hill in circles in the background while Lis laments in the foreground).
Yet Jodorowsky seems more invested at times in the power of his ideas than in their proper screen execution. The action is sometimes clunky and/or hampered by questionable editing choices. This inconsistency doesn't seem like a deliberate effect, since many sequences are conventionally but effectively cut. However, the use of music is quite expressive as well as many sound design choices.
Fando and Lis is not a perfect film, but "perfection" is an absurd term given the nature of the material. In any case, suffice to say that this feature debut resonates far more deeply than the sober, functional exercises that Hollywood chunks out every year, not to mention the "art-house mainstream" that permeates most of the Cannes Film Festival highlights of late.
Jodorowsky's work is often closer to performance art than it is to film, if we take film as an expression of consistent atmosphere and cinematic flow, illustrating ideas at the fully extent of the medium. The auteur expresses that as a filmmaker; he doesn't care whether the audience is bored or angry, he says a film should be made with your guts, without following any rules of cinematic grammar. The result is sometimes inconsistent but never disappointing.
In a world plagued by artistic concessions, Jodorowsky emerges as an artist with an unique voice, capable of delivering unforgettable images. His work is always refreshing and inspiring.