IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: CAN DIALECTICS BREAK BRICKS? (1973)

La dialectique peut-elle casser des briques?

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DIRECTED BY: René Viénet

FEATURING: Hung- Liu Chan, Ingrid Yin-Yin Hu, Jason Piao Pai

PLOT: Alienated proletarians, trained in kung fu, fight against their bureaucratic oppressors.

Poster for "Can Dialectics Break Bricks?" (1973)

COMMENTS: What if a typical kung fu flick was transformed through voiceover into a subversive and radical wanna-be manifesto? Such an anarchic romp could only come from France. But let’s take things from the beginning.

Some definitions should be clarified. Dialectics is a product of the Situationist movement, a group of anti-capitalist artists and thinkers, known cinematically mostly through Guy Debord’s documentaries. Like a lot of spoofs—What’s Up Tiger Lily? (1966) and In Search of the Ultra-Sex (2016) come to mind—this movie takes preexisting material and subverts its meaning through clever use of voiceovers.  The Situationists call the exact technique used here “détournement”, and it could be better defined as a reappropriation in a new and ideologically subversive setting. It is a recontextualization of images so that new meanings, radically different than previous, are produced: a practice commonly used in  postmodernist art of the later half of the twentieth century until our own time.

With the theoretical background of this movie specified, what is it really about? The plot revolves around a commune of proletarian martial artists defending themselves against alienation and their evil overlords. These overlords are not simply your typical evil Western capitalists, but we can trace references to the Soviet Union’s nomenklatura as well. They in fact represent of every possible state, even of those that hypocritically claim to defend the rights of the proletariat.

A main character emerges from the crowd, a typical hero who becomes the focus of the narrative, a man who sets his noble ideals against the bad guys. What is atypical of the genre , though, is that while the choreography of fighting plays out, our characters indulge in deep conversations about class struggle, the abolition of masters, and Wilhem Reich‘s writing, among other subjects. Through voice-over an “essential”  bibliography is mentioned, too, which one of the most unexpected and weirdest elements of the movie.

Don’t worry, though. This is not a heavy movie. Sexual jokes and self-aware irony prove its unwillingness to take itself too seriously. In fact, Dialectics isn’t much more than a funny gimmick. It surely has an appeal for fans of cult cinema, but it is not essential viewing for anyone interested in the Situationist movement. On the other hand, if you enjoy this kind of absurd humor—and the eccentric idea of a martial arts show about the class struggle—and would like to view something similar, albeit in a contemporary setting, try to find the French TV show “Machine” (2024) created by Thomas Bidegain and Fred Grivois.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“An obnoxious and hilarious stunt from 1973…”–Eve Tushnet, Patheos (streaming)

(This movie was suggested for review by Comrade Faustroll, who said “The filmmakers strike the right balance of meaning what they’re saying enough to be really weird, but joking enough to keep it interesting.” Suggest a weird movie of your own here.)

POD 366, EP. 156: FLORIAN FRERICH’S “DREAM STORY”

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Audio link (Spotify)

YouTube link

Discussed in this episode:

Traumnovelle [Dream Story] (2024): Disturbed by his wife’s fantasies of infidelity, a physician crashes a secret orgy. An adaptation of the same novel that inspired  ‘s Eyes Wide Shut (1999).

Brotherhood of the Wolf (2001): Read Giles Edwards’ review. For collectors, a 4K Steelbook limited edition (Amazon exclusive) of ‘ crazy period Gothic horror/mystery. Buy Brotherhood of the Wolf.

The Carpenter’s Son (2025): Read Gregory J. Smalley’s review. A DVD only version of the gimmicky “Jesus horror movie” starring as “the carpenter.” Buy The Carpenter’s Son.

Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl (1998): Two refugees (Shie Kohinata and ) are on the run from oodles of odd yakuza in what the promotional material calls a “surreal crime comedy.” To our knowledge, ‘s sophomore film had not previously been released here on Blu-ray; Discotek rectifies the situation. Buy Shark Skin Man and Peach Hip Girl.

Slamdance (Feb. 19 to Feb. 35, Los Angeles, CA)

Slamdance began its life as a cheaper, punkier alternative to Sundance, spotlighting microbudget films. With Sundance’s departure from Park City, UT, Slamdance has relocated its base of operations to Los Angeles. We can usually find one weird film at Slamdance (previous standouts include Man Under Table and Dave Made a Maze), but distribution prospects for these films can be iffy. Here are the two films we spotlighted as the most likely weird breakout candidates this year:

  • Matapanki – a n alcoholic Chilean punk gains superpowers after drinking some mysterious booze.
  • Tony Odyssey – Tony and his friend Ivy rip off their crooked employer, take his experimental psychedelic drug, and meet God. From Brazil.

Slamdance home page.

WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE:

Next week, of Pocket Film of Superstitions will be our guest on Pod 366. In written content, Micheal Diamades considers Can Dialectics Break Bricks? (1973), Shane Wilson is hypnotized by the budget sci-fi of LFO (2013), Giles Edwards checks out the slate at Slamdance (see above), and Gregory J. Smalley has fun with the rest of the “Krazee Kidz Video Party” collection from AGFA/Something Weird. Onward and weirdward!

CAPSULE: ÉL (1953)

AKA This Strange Passion

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FEATURING: Arturo de Córdova, Delia Garcés

PLOT: A Mexican landowner seduces a woman into marrying him, but his paranoid jealousy quickly poisons the union.

Still from El (1953)

COMMENTS: The career of Luis Buñuel breaks cleanly into three periods: the avant-garde (or first French) period, the Mexican period, and the renaissance (or second French) period. He begins in Paris with the revolutionary experiments of Un Chien Andalou, L’Age d’Or, and Land Without Bread; moves to Mexico where he directs commercially-oriented films after an unsuccessful flirtation with Hollywood; and then, in the twilight of his career, returns to France to produce masterworks such as Belle de Jour (1967) and Discreet Charm of the Bourgousie (1972) with the assistance of new collaborators Serge Silberman (producer) and Jean-Claude Carrière (writer). Of these eras, the Mexican period, from 1947-1965, is the longest—and it can itself be split into early and late periods, as Buñuel again achieves international notoriety with Viridiana in 1961, and re-emerges into surrealism with 1962’s The Exterminating Angel.

The Mexican period is often overlooked, and it’s undeniable that Buñuel was far less experimental in this era, placing commercial realities above personal passions, and sneaking in surrealism and social commentary where he could. But Buñuel was honing his craft in Mexico, and these films are still fascinating to see the development of his aesthetic. Naturally, he also made some great movies in these years, among which the psychologically astute Él (which translates in this context as “he”) is a standout.

The film begins, without dialogue and somewhat mysteriously, with priests ritualistically washing the feet of young men on Maundy Thursday. The gaze of our protagonist, Francisco, scans a line of boys’ feet and priestly hands until it alights on a pair of high heeled shoes supporting shapely calves; his eyes then turn at a right angle to travel vertically up the body to briefly meet the eyes of a young woman, whom we will later learn is Gloria. What this opening means—with its nods to the director’s foot fetishism and his complicated relationship to Catholicism—is a point for academic debate. But no matter; the story immediately takes a turn for the melodramatic, following Francisco as he seduces the demure Gloria (stealing her from her fiancé, an associate of Francisco’s), while expressing his vain desire to recreate his ancestral real estate empire. Francisco’s irrational jealousy emerges as early as the honeymoon, where he gets into a fight with an old friend of his bride’s that the couple coincidentally encounters. Gloria quickly realizes she has made a terrible mistake. Things escalate through beatings, a dangerous scene in a bell tower (which anticipates Vertigo), and finally a disturbing and menacing bit where Francisco gathers up surgical equipment for purposes you can certainly guess. In the end, Francisco has a complete psychotic break, allowing Buñuel to deploy some light surrealism (via editing) to portray the triumph of paranoia over objective reality. (This climax occurs, naturally, inside a church.) An ironic epilogue shows Francisco, now convalescing in a monastery, his demons at least temporarily at bay, zig-zagging down a straight garden path.

Buñuel‘s own process during the Mexican period follows the same path: he follows the inevitable line of conventional narrative, but zigs and zags into his own obsessions. The director claimed that Él was one of his most personal works, and we know from his wife Jeanne’s autobiography that Buñuel himself suffered from irrational jealousy and sexual repression. Thus, he identifies with Francisco, but only in a masochistic and self-reflective way: he’s too perceptive to deceive himself, as his protagonist does, into thinking he’s always in the right. The source novel, by a woman speaking from personal experience, reportedly focuses on social critique of the Mexican patriarchy and its mistreatment of women; this subject interests Buñuel as well, but he leans into the character study aspect of the material. It is a way to exorcise his personal demons, and despite the conventionality of the approach, Él is at heart a typically vituperative strike by Buñuel at the hypocrisy of the human heart.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“…a dark, troubling, classily produced melodrama. It may not have the showy, surreal touches of Buñuel’s best known work but it still packs a punch.”–David Brook, Blueprint: Review (Criterion Blu-ray)

Él (The Criterion Collection) [Blu-ray]

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APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: UNICORN BOY (2023)

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DIRECTED BY: Matty Kiel

FEATURING: The voices of Matty Kiel, Maria Bamford, Sethword, Harold Perrineau, Cindy Paola, ,

PLOT: After a poorly thought out break-up and a concussion sustained in in a café bathroom, Matt travels to a unicorn dimension.

Still from Unicorn Boy (2023)

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Anyone who wondered what a mash-up of Hieronymus Bosch and Lisa Frank might look like need wonder no longer.

COMMENTS: Shamans of yore sought vision by pushing their bodies to extremes: employing drugs and self-privation in pursuit of higher awareness. Matt’s methods are softer, and manifest softer visions—ones of pastel bug- and fish-monsters fusing together in sexual pulsation, or uptight unicorn citizens grumbling about the profusion of rainbow vomit staining the roads of their “perfect” city. Mostly, though, Matt has visions of rainbow vomit, beginning with a sudden visitation from Prince Purpleton (perhaps the doofiest unicorn imaginable), who stomps onto Matt’s couch, spatters his pastel weirdness about, and disappears as abruptly as he appeared.

Unicorn Boy mixes equal parts anxiety and vibrant vomit, which is to say, there is a seemingly endless stream of each. Matt is working through some Things, and it is while trying to discuss these Things with his grandly moustachioed buddy Sethward that he himself becomes sick in a trendy café, escapes to the restroom, and probably endures brain damage. The remainder of the film follows his adventures in the unicorn world and his subsequent pursuits of further addlement through yoga to resolve the unicorn plot line.

I’ve long maintained that animation is at its best when it creates a reality above, beyond, or outside our own, and Matty Kiel doesn’t disappoint. Purpleton and the fellow denizens of a magical realm squish around their oddball business, fusing (or is it shunting?) with others, with the ever-present risk of blacklight-ready rainbow spew keeping us on our toes. The protagonist’s troubles are relatable, providing a recognizable emotional mush for which the technicolor flights of goo are a reasonable visual extension. His fantastical visions suffer as he does, suppressing their depressing desires lest a burst of violently colorful, demanding bugs spring forth from within. Even the unicorn realm demands  wholesomeness and positivity.

Unicorn Boy is a cringe-y melodrama, a slice of life, and therapy through narrative. Judging from the character names and video clips in the credits, Matt in 2016 evolves into Matty in 2023, having endured some small-bore (though impactful) troubles of the heart. From his mind’s black box he creates a cute-‘n-gross voyage of personal growth. And while its ultimate message of love and acceptance is nothing new, its means are rather unique. Matty Kiel, and their Matt-in-movie manifestation, line their path to wisdom with splotches of sparkly spew. Not classically shamanistic, perhaps, but it gets the job done.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Age 14+ Personal growth, rainbow-barfing unicorns in animated indie… For viewers who don’t like gross-out humor or surrealism, the imagery might be unpleasant—but that’s also the point, since even the characters call out how gross the land’s magic is.”— Monique Jones, Common Sense Media (contemporaneous)

Unicorn Boy [DVD]

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