A strange man arrives at neurosurgeon Dr Max Holst's #hospital one day. So strange in fact that he's promptly send to the psychiatric ward. This man, a Mr Steinmetz, insists on the doctor's help. He can materialise things – look see here's a cigar – but living things is what he wants. This bird, it died. Can the doctor help? No no, not the bird, the brain! Steinmetz has set up a theatre in his home, it can be done there. While the doctor, however tempted, refuses, Steinmetz evolves.

“We are now entering the century of the soul!”

– Steinmetz

Manden der tænkte ting intrigues in its clinical monotonous settings, its pale late-60s stock, and precise composition. Early Cronenberg – Stereo (Tile 3B of a CAEE Educational Mosaic) (1969) and Crimes of the Future (1970) – comes to mind and, of course Lars von Trier's majestic Riget [The Kingdom] (1994 – 2022). But only Jens Ravn mastered this strangling lightness. Slowly, while you count backwards. Now you no longer feel the straps. 10… 9… …

At a poolside #CocktailParty, the swimmer appears. He notes that the houses in between his hosts' and his are connected by a “river” of #pools and decides to swim home, from one pool to the other, superficially meeting people, crashing suburban pool parties, in an increasingly irrational state.

“And the water up there. Remember? That transparent, light green water. It felt different. God, what a beautiful feeling. We could've swum around the world in those days.”

– Ned Merrill

Japanese author Yukio Mishima was, besides an aesthete, a fierce proponent of Japanese nationalism. In 憂國, based on his short 1960 story, Mishima plays palace guard Lt. Shinji Takeyama. Despite being one of the instigators of an ultra-nationalist coup, Takeyama decides he cannot overthrow the government as it would mean having to kill his friends and be disloyal to the Emperor. Returning home, he and his bride Reiko (Yoshiko Tsuruoka) perform #切腹 (#seppuku / #HaraKiri), as in line with Takeyama's #samurai heritage.

 

Yūkoku is a #SilentFilm that plays out like #Noh #theatre, with an extreme emphasis on the beauty and love of death and loyalty respectively.

 

After Mishima's own seppuku in 1970, his widow ordered all copies of Yūkoku to be destroyed. In 2005, in Mishima's house, a pristine copy was uncovered in a tea box.

Wild with today's eyes, it is not. Yet Rosemary's “very in” Vidal Sassoon #PixieCut was a shocking affair in 68. Director Roman #Polanski flew in Vidal Sassoon – the world's hottest hairdresser – all the way from London, to cut Mia Farrow's hair in a boxing-ring-turned-pressroom. All of a sudden, in her lunch break, Mia/Rosemary transformed from timid waif to women's lib.

“It's by Vidal Sassoon. It's very in.”

– Rosemary Woodhouse

Both the lady's movie husband Guy Woodhouse (John Cassavetes) and real-world husband Frank Sinatra were incensed by the bold move. Of course, in Rosemary's Baby the haircut is Rosemary's attempt to make sense of the changing world around her. Moving to a new city, an unexpected pregnancy, all those lovely new neighbours to socialise with… a girl needs to feel in control!

“The Kola Loka is the law!”

– Limonádový Joe

John Hillcoat's deeply unpleasant debut is based on In the Belly of the Beast (1981), a collection of excerpts of letters between prisoner Jack Henry Abbott and author Norman Mailer. True to the book's format, Ghosts consists of disjointed vignettes of monologues, #CCTV footage, title cards, and prisoners' phone calls.

 

For the last 37 months, these filters inform the observer, the hypermodern #supermax Central Industrial Prison has been in permanent lockdown. The cast, a mix of professional actors and ex-cons, and the location, a clean factory-style hangar in the middle of the Australian desert, underscore the underlying raw brutality of the unfolding events.

 

“Officer, come here. I wanna spit in your fucking eye!”

– Maynard

The #industrial soundtrack is by Bad Seed Nick Cave (co-writer and starring as Maynard), Mick Harvey, and Blixa Bargeld from when they were still closer to being birthday boys than morose crooners.

“It sounded interesting, at least while I kept out of the rain. But if it's a sermon, I'd sooner listen to the rain.”

– commoner

Shot on location in Greece, sponge diver Phaedra (Sophia Loren) makes a splash when she finds an ancient statue of a boy on a dolphin, rumoured to bring good luck to her town. Her attempts to sell it to the highest bidder makes not only the bronze but also her the object of desire of an honest archaeologist and an unscrupulous antiques dealer playboy.

“Our paths have crossed and re-crossed: in Dresden, Rotterdam, Florence – wherever the Nazis looted. Raphaels, Rembrandts, even down to a dreary little china pot, which belonged to Madame Pompadour… there was always Captain Jim Calder of the U.S. Army, restoring priceless objects to their rightful owners – a typical middle-class gesture.”

– Victor Parmalee

Boy on a dolphin is not only the title of this movie but also possibly a reference to #Arion, son of the inhabitants of Lesbos (would that make this movie a bit too wild for 1957?), or #Taras, son of Poseidon and Satyrion. According to Greek legend, both mythological characters were saved by #dolphins.

The one that got bombed by Strangelove.

“You're talking about a different kind of war.”

– General Stark

Both Lumet's Fail Safe and #Kubrick's #ColdWar comedy came out in 1964, right after the #CubaCrisis. The world was awash with the realisation that the bomb, The Bomb, wasn't merely proverbial flexing. And when crisis happens, there are two options. One is to laugh, the other is to grasp. Sadly for Lumet, and the world, his Fail Safe was released while everyone was still too busy chuckling.