APOCRYPHA CANDIDATE: THE CATHEDRAL OF NEW EMOTIONS (2006)

Die kathedrale der neuen gefühle

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DIRECTED BY: Helmut Herbst

PLOT: Members of a Seventies Berlin commune travel through space aimlessly in a shipping container clutched in a giant fist, until an amnesiac stowaway divulges information on the location of the commune’s founder.

WHY IT MIGHT JOIN THE APOCRYPHA: Even in the world of animated psychedelic European science-fiction—a small niche, admittedly—there aren’t many projects that open with a naked figure trampolining on a small patch of bell peppers as the titles scroll by in the background. That turns out to be practically the baseline of “normal,” in light of what follows.

COMMENTS:  Various members of the commune/spaceship frequently repeat the phrase “My eyes are cast down in awe,” and it’s a fitting description of the experience of watching The Cathedral of New Emotions. Expanded from director/co-writer Herbst’s 1971 short, Cathedral follows the antics of a 1970s commune repurposed as soft 1970s sci-fi in the vein of or Samuel Delany. It’s like an animated Dark Star with sex and drugs, with a slight element of The Final Programme in the mix. When the spaceship is contained in a fist, hard science is not going to be a primary element, especially when the spacecraft has windshield wipers that sweep off detritus such as bugs and a Hawkman from “Flash Gordon.” The journey through space isn’t just physical. The main space of concern is the metaphysical: one character remarks that “he lives in his head,” and upon his rediscovery of commune founder Madson, a self-described “merchant of images,” he tells another that they are “also just fiction.” There’s a political element, with May ’68 and the Vietnam War referenced both directly and indirectly through the disaffected and somewhat aimless behavior of the “crew.”

Cathedral comes across as a smarter and hornier version of an offering made for stoners with brains. There is a lot of sexual imagery and content, both hetero and homo (a cocooned threeway, a visual pun regarding “blowjob”). If it’s still not clear, the lyrics of the Krautrock-styled theme song at the beginning and end of the film feature the chorus “You’re inside of me/Deep, deep inside of me, ohhh.” In keeping with the Adult Swim comparison, the closest  (watered-down) equivalent might be “Superjail!” (although that show features more grotesque cruelty and violence than sex.) Cathedral even has a pair of indeterminately gendered twins who serve roughly the same function as similar “Superjail!” pair, providing a mocking chorus and running commentary on the action. The TV cartoon’s design is also more grotesque than Cathedral‘s, although Herbst includes an element of grotesquerie related to sexual body horror.

Cathedral made its home video premiere courtesy of Deaf Crocodile as a (now sold-out) limited deluxe edition with a booklet including essays from Walter Chaw and Alexander McDonald and slipcover. The standard edition includes a commentary by German film historian Rolf Giesen that is as much a history of German animation as a discussion of this film (description is somewhat pointless because the film is experimental, Giesen says upfront, but he does talk about Cathedral and Herbst in the latter part of the commentary); a visual essay by filmmaker Stephen Broomer; “Container Interstellar,” the 7-minute short that was expanded into Cathedral; a 25-minute documentary examining Herbst’s work (mainly television shorts and an acclaimed documentary on the DADA movement); and an interview with Herbst, who died in 2021.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“Defying any kind of logical description, the animated German sci-fi fever dream The Cathedral of New Emotions can proudly stand as the trippiest title released to date by Deaf Crocodile — and that’s saying something!”–Nathaniel Thompson, Mondo Digital (Blu-ray)

The Cathedral Of New Emotions [Blu-ray]
  • German director Helmut Herbst's long-lost animated sci-fi feature, a true hallucinogenic Space Freakout

IT CAME FROM THE READER-SUGGESTED QUEUE: FELIX THE CAT: THE MOVIE (1988)

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DIRECTED BY: Tibor Hernádi

FEATURING THE VOICES OF: David Kolin, Chris Phillips, Maureen O’Connell, Peter Newman, Alice Playten

PLOT: When Princess Oriana is kidnapped by the sinister Duke of Zill, only Felix the Cat and his magical bag of tricks can save the day—so long as his arch-frenemy The Professor doesn’t interfere.

COMMENTS: It’s fun to imagine a Sunset Boulevard scenario wherein Felix the Cat hearkens back to better times, angrily reminding anyone who will listen that, back in his heyday, he was bigger than Mickey Mouse. He’d go on about how he moved so much merchandise in the silent era, but faltered when talkies came in. How he got his groove back when television snapped him up, jump-starting his career with a voice, new supporting characters, the introduction of his iconic bag of tricks, and an insidiously infectious theme song. How the lack of a deep-pocketed studio to protect him and dust him off every so often (like that infernal mouse had) left him floundering, and how his chief animator and owner of his copyright, Joe Oriolo (and later Joe’s son Don), struggled to keep Felix in the game with ever-growing levels of desperation, including a bizarre misguided attempt at a live-action series and even a Baby Felix cartoon made exclusively for Japanese television. And here’s where Felix would ball up his fist and pound it on the table, lamenting that if anyone knows him at all today, it’s as a clock.

Maybe that can be the scenario for Felix’s next feature. For now, we’re stuck with this one, probably his thirstiest bid at a revival. Felix is a simple character, a monochromatic feline with a classic stretch-and-squash movement and a seeming immunity to misfortune. But to wring 80 minutes out of him, it’s essential to complicate, complicate, complicate, first with a prologue presenting a proto-CG version of Felix’s disembodied head, then by launching an elaborate plot to save a fairy-tale kingdom from an evil overlord, with a panoply of odd characters including a heavily rotoscoped princess, a gun-toting yokel, a host of psychedelic wildlife, and an army of robot trash cans led by what appears to be an ape with a bubble for a head.

The animation, from Hungary’s Pannonia Studio, is wildly erratic, veering from elaborately detailed landscapes and imaginative creature designs to obvious looped animations and jumpy movement. Case in point: Princess Oriana is sometimes shown in the kind of fine detail one associates with the Disney Renaissance, but then is seen in a herky-jerky, poorly drawn style one associates with direct-to-truck-stop mockbusters. But even at its best, the animators’ work is undercut by a script that spends inordinate amounts of time on exposition and setup, forcing the artists to vamp to fill time. In fact, Felix the Movie is almost allergic to anything that stays focused on the plot. The vile Duke is supposedly seeking to conquer the kingdom as revenge against the Princess, but instead of showing us his schemes, we watch him make her do interpretive dance. Numerous scenes are dedicated solely to watching one cartoon beast or another go about their business, even while we’re aware of an impending danger happening somewhere way offscreen. Even the musical numbers seem completely separate from the proceedings, such as a showcase for a family of foxes who have nothing to do with anything, or an extended dance break for a pair of rat/lizard hybrids. (This latter sequence lasts for more than two minutes, almost 3% of the film’s runtime.)

Adding to the muddle is the decision to include two of Felix’s foes from the TV series, the nefarious Professor and his hyper-nerdy nephew Poindexter. They have the potential to throw another obstacle in Felix’s path, but they spend most of the film trailing behind their quarry and end up helping once they finally catch up. One presumes they represent the movie’s attempt to cater to Felix nostalgists, but they’re meaningless to the young, adventure-hungry kids who are the most likely audience for this kind of thing. The movie aims for everyone and hits no one.

Given how uninterested it is in anything logical and linear, it’s fitting that the movie just sort of stops, with Felix saving the day by throwing a book at a giant robot. (That’s literally the whole solution. Deus ex libro. He doesn’t even use the bag of tricks.) Felix the Cat: The Movie should have been a chance for the once-famous feline to get his groove back, but the film never finds a way to let him be the hero he once was, and it doesn’t have a solid idea of what it wants to do instead. So somebody buy the old guy another drink and let him rant and rave about his cruel fate. He deserves another shot at the big time, and this ain’t it.

WHAT THE CRITICS SAY:

“The original Felix cartoons were always surreal in some way, but not in a studied manner, more of an organic, natural development out of the character’s quirks and goodnatured ingenuity. Here, however, there is an attempt to plonk him down into a world that is already weird, almost a post-apocalyptic version of a fairytale land that suffers too many digressions into strangeness for its own sake without furthering the plot… You can see it entertaining the very young who are not aware of Felix’s history, but as a tribute to him it falls flat when it really could have been any generic character starring here: he doesn’t even take off his tail and use it as a cane.” Graeme Clark, The Spinning Image

(This movie was nominated for review by Jayzon. Suggest a weird movie of your own here.) 

VOTE FOR THE READER’S CHOICE APOCRYPHA TITLE!

We’ve taken all your nominees (minus a few duplicates and ineligible titles) and come up with 44 current Apocrypha Candidates for the readers to select their favorite. The winner will be written up as an official Apocryphally Weird entry; other movies that get high vote totals will receive extra editorial consideration. You may only vote for one movie and you may only vote once, so make it count! Voting closes on June 15.

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POD 366, EP. 120: THE LEGEND OF THE DAY SOMETHING WEIRD CRIED (FOR TWO VOICES)

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Audio link (Spotify)

YouTube link

Discussed in this episode:

An Evening Song (for Three Voices) (2023): Read Giles Edwards’ review. Graham Swon’s dreamlike experimental drama about two writers and their scarred maid in the 1930s just finished a token theatrical run; we expect it on VOD soon, and will let you know when that happens. An Evening Song (for Three Voices) official site.

The Day the Clown Cried: Swedish TV channel SVT announced this week that an employee of the company that co-produced Jerry Lewis’ The Day the Clown Cried illegally copied reels from the workprint film onto VHS tape in the 1980s. You can view a clip from the interview (in Swedish) announcing the discovery (and including some very short background snippets as proof) at their site; scroll to the second video at the bottom of the page for the English captioned version. There’s also this article at “Icon” (in Swedish). On the off chance you don’t know what this is about or why it’s a big deal: in the early 1970s slapstick comedian Jerry Lewis made a sincerely intended drama movie about a clown who is sentenced to a concentration camp where he entertains children before they die. At first Lewis was enormously proud of this anti-Holocaust statement, but when he previewed the dailies to some friends the reaction was, shall we say, not encouraging (Harry Shearer was quoted as saying “This movie is so drastically wrong, its pathos and its comedy are so wildly misplaced, that you could not, in your fantasy of what it might be like, improve on what it really is.”). Lewis (and the screenwriter) shelved the movie and insisted that it would never be released; he relented late in life and donated some incomplete footage to the Library of Congress, with stipulations that it could not be shared until June 2024, and even then could only be publicly screened with permission from his estate. The difference here is that this is apparently a relatively complete workprint that could theoretically be restored and released, although only in an unofficial, unsanctioned underground version.

“House of Psychotic Women: Rarities Collection Vol. 2”: The four movies in this femme-forward set are thrillers Butterfly Kiss (1994) and The Glass Ceiling (1971), “dramatized documentary” The Savage Eye (1959), and, most excitingly to us, ‘ Gothic melodrama Morgiana (1972). The set includes hours of special features including  7 short films, one of which is a made-for-TV vampire musical by Herz! Buy “House of Psychotic Women: Rarities Collection Vol. 2”.

In My Skin (2002): Read Pamela de Graff’s review. This unexpectedly lavish UHD/Blu-ray edition of the auto-cannibalism shocker advertises 7 hours (!) of special features, including 4 short films from director Marina de Van.  Buy In My Skin.

Queer (2024): ‘s adaptation of ‘ 1985 novella of the same name. It’s our reader-suggested queue (and will soon be out of that closet). Buy Queer.

Rats! (2024): Read Giles Edwards’ festival mention. Soon-to-be cult comedy now on Blu-ray, with an orgasm-themed set of special features. Buy Rats!

“Something Weird” streaming: The independent streaming channel “Cultpix” struck a deal to acquire the (complete?) Something Weird catalog for streaming, meaning the works of pre-70s exploitation auteurs like (among others) will migrate there. Be aware Cultpix includes (vintage) porn and is 18+ only. Visit Cultpix.

Urotsukidoji: Legend of the Overfiend (1987-1989): Read Giles Edwards’ review. Tentacles, demons, and more now available in the three pornographic original anime OVA episodes, plus the less-explicit feature film they were edited into. Buy Urotsukidoji: Legend of the Overfiend.

WHAT’S IN THE PIPELINE: 
No guest is scheduled for next week’s Pod 366 (unless you count El Rob Hubbard, who is indeed scheduled). In written content, Shane Wilson gets curious about Felix the Cat: The Movie (1988), the previously-mentioned El Rob Hubbard worships The Cathedral of New Emotions (2006), and Enar Clarke reviews an Inflatable Sex Doll of the Wastelands (1967). Plus, we close our Apocrypha nomination contest on Sunday, announce a winner, and open voting on Monday. Onward and weirdward!

Celebrating the cinematically surreal, bizarre, cult, oddball, fantastique, strange, psychedelic, and the just plain WEIRD!