However tempting it may be to recite praise upon ones favourite film or television program, I found myself inexplicably drawn towards something altogether far more insidious. Something dark and twisted, that only the most pompous of critics could ever heap praise upon (and when I say heap, I mean heap).
The film I speak of, correction the abomination I speak of is The Quince Tree Sun by Victor Erice. What! I sense you thinking. "I've never heard of that film." To which I reply "Thank heaven for small mercies, for those of you who have been spared the 138 minutes of sheer boredom, are the lucky ones."
Yet I also sense a murmuring of ticking cogs which grind out the thought "But didn't he make The Spirit of the Beehive?" And the answer is "Yes he did." So how does one man create a masterpiece, only to tear it down at his next venture?
The answer is simple. Victor Erice is actually kinda crap.
No doubt the original concept was to explore the pains of creating art, and painful it is. Watching the movie's main protagonist Antonio Lopez Garcia playing himself, slave away over light positions, angles, colouration's, and any other banal necessity that goes into painting a tree, is soul destroying. Yeah, you heard that right, this ain't the Sistine Chapel, although Michelangelo does get a name check, emphasising the depths of pretension Evrice is willing to fathom.
The guy's painting a tree. A tree he repaints every year in the hope he'll be able to capture one moment of perfect beauty. Do you know what that is? Madness, pure and simple. Was it not Einstein that said " Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?"
So there you have it. The Quince Tree Sun is not the pure homage to creating art that Evrice would have us believe. It is something far worse, something far more horrific than any slasher movie, or thriller could concoct. It's a devilish portrayal of a man spiralling out of control into madness. This is The Shining times ten, This is King, Barker, Lovecraft and Poe all mixed together to create a stunning shade of 'is it over yet?' that's smeared across the screen like Garcia smears his paint over canvas. With every masterstroke another victory for tedium.
Obviously there are some truly abhorrent films out there such as Humanoids from the deep, with it's misogynistic ideology and Salmon People. Or the depravity of A Serbian Film, and maybe it seems harsh to judge The Quince Tree Sun with such disdain. But in many ways it's crimes upon humanity outweigh those of any lowbrow nonsense. In my opinion The Quince Tree Sun's greatest crime isn't it's snails pace or lack of dynamics, but to praise itself as a love affair with art, about art, by artists ..And I can't help feeling What a load of rubbish.
The film I speak of, correction the abomination I speak of is The Quince Tree Sun by Victor Erice. What! I sense you thinking. "I've never heard of that film." To which I reply "Thank heaven for small mercies, for those of you who have been spared the 138 minutes of sheer boredom, are the lucky ones."
Yet I also sense a murmuring of ticking cogs which grind out the thought "But didn't he make The Spirit of the Beehive?" And the answer is "Yes he did." So how does one man create a masterpiece, only to tear it down at his next venture?
The answer is simple. Victor Erice is actually kinda crap.
No doubt the original concept was to explore the pains of creating art, and painful it is. Watching the movie's main protagonist Antonio Lopez Garcia playing himself, slave away over light positions, angles, colouration's, and any other banal necessity that goes into painting a tree, is soul destroying. Yeah, you heard that right, this ain't the Sistine Chapel, although Michelangelo does get a name check, emphasising the depths of pretension Evrice is willing to fathom.
The guy's painting a tree. A tree he repaints every year in the hope he'll be able to capture one moment of perfect beauty. Do you know what that is? Madness, pure and simple. Was it not Einstein that said " Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?"
So there you have it. The Quince Tree Sun is not the pure homage to creating art that Evrice would have us believe. It is something far worse, something far more horrific than any slasher movie, or thriller could concoct. It's a devilish portrayal of a man spiralling out of control into madness. This is The Shining times ten, This is King, Barker, Lovecraft and Poe all mixed together to create a stunning shade of 'is it over yet?' that's smeared across the screen like Garcia smears his paint over canvas. With every masterstroke another victory for tedium.
Obviously there are some truly abhorrent films out there such as Humanoids from the deep, with it's misogynistic ideology and Salmon People. Or the depravity of A Serbian Film, and maybe it seems harsh to judge The Quince Tree Sun with such disdain. But in many ways it's crimes upon humanity outweigh those of any lowbrow nonsense. In my opinion The Quince Tree Sun's greatest crime isn't it's snails pace or lack of dynamics, but to praise itself as a love affair with art, about art, by artists ..And I can't help feeling What a load of rubbish.