Somewhat mythological feeling. There is something to be said for a film which affects your testicles more than any other part of your person. Or is there?
I'm not so sure about that, but I am certainly affected by this film. It's so damp and grim; that shot of the funeral driving down the steep cobbled street - the wonderful final sequence - Carter's grim and methodical satisfaction. Brilliant. Some British films are always on the cusp of being brilliant and are even better for not quite getting there, I think. Can't wait to see 'Radio On' and 'Withnail'. So - why the testes?
Smashing villains head through car window, while wearing tailored suit. Total testosterone inducer.
Foucault argues for the Death of the Author: Who are we to disagree?
Eyes Without A Face
Les Yeux Sans Visage
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