Mad God

As a technical artistic piece demonstrating the expressive power of stop motion cinematography, it is a triumph. As a story, it is a eighth grade goth kid sitting in the back of class, doodling their inner turmoil and profound nihilism. Most of the metaphors relating to our world (e.g., work, medicine, military, birth-rebirth, religion, etc.) rarely rise above that depressed 8th grade standard. Still, I'd rather watch this technical masterclass in cinema than yet another vanilla film that is little more than a pile of cliches. You will certainly not forget it, and the ending is worth staying for as it veers into the best kind of psychedelic metaphysical territory. WARNING: would not recommend tripping while watching this, you may have more than a panic attack.

Jesus. Christ. What the hell did I just watch? And who on earth is Phil Tippett? And please, Phil, more please, thank you. I mostly didn't understand what was going on in this hell ride, so how can I rate it a perfect ten? Well, I rate ten when a movie leaves me feeling like there was nothing you could change to make it better. It doesn't mean it's the best movie I've ever seen, it just means that to me, it appears to perfectly do what it tries to do. Other such examples could be Aliens, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and more up this movie's alley, Lost Highway. I'm perfectly understanding of people who would hate this movie. My mother and my sister would be such people. But if you're of the conviction that ugly can be beautiful, and that bizarre, grotesque and indecipherable themes can be thrilling, then please, please watch this movie or what the hell it is. It's like what Laika Studios would make if they were owned by the devil and Cronenberg, Lynch and a possessed Terry Gilliam were in charge of production. If this thing weren't almost entirely stop-motion animated puppets, it would be impossible to watch save for the most hardened of gore-loving viewers. It's an incessant onslaught of grotesque violence and destruction, only sparingly intermissioned by scenes of some tranquility and even beauty, and when they come around, you savour them that much more having waded through so much despair and anguish. While this does make it feel longer than its 80-minute runtime, much longer, it's not just because of this emotional toll it puts you through. It's also because it's so incredibly dense and detailed. Look away for two seconds and you miss a heap. Don't look away and you don't know what is actually going on, but the levels of detail, imagery and plot keeps your brain at maximum operational level. It's exhausting, but it's worth it. It brings memories of every good movie and piece of art David Lynch ever made, that Terry Gilliam ever made, and that David Cronenberg ever made. Of Flåklypa Grand Prix and Coraline. Of that Stinkfist music video by Tool. Of Fincher's work for Aphex Twin and Björk. Of Dante's Inferno, at least I think so, I haven't actually read it. Of Stanley Kubrick's Space Odyssey. It's insane, and brilliant. Brilliantly insane. Beautifully ugly. Incomprehensible and captivating at the same time. If it's pretentious, I don't care. But how could it be, with the obvious amount of work that has gone into this. No one works this hard, knowing they'll probably be lucky to break even financially, if they don't really mean it. I've become increasingly pessimistic about cinema over the last decade or so. So when something like this comes around, it thrills me to my core. Please fund this director and his team so we can have more of this creativity. This work is at the same time a very familiar experience and unlike anything I've ever seen. I will watch this several times again, and I urge you to watch it, too. Ho. Ly. Cow.