I thoroughly enjoyed this movie and got much from it that other movies don't give. In particular, it's one of the few movies I've ever seen that I recognized as pertaining to some part of my own life. But, as the cliché runs, an hour later I was hungry again. The reason, I think, is that Svankmajer doesn't really make long films, but short films gone long. This one sustains its length through the fertility (so to speak) of invention with which it elaborates the basic idea--a half dozen fetishists obsessively engaged in creating elaborate, rather Rube Goldbergish devices to realize their *very* fey erotic fantasies--but the idea is miniature, not full-scale, and the film can only detail it rather than develop it. That doesn't mean that what appears on the screen isn't always interesting: it's visually original, often quite funny (the profusion of ordinary objects that the filmmaker is able to make look like genitalia is sometimes startling; some of their hidden potentials I would never have suspected), and, if not making a particular social or political point (the filmmaker seems equivocal about the morality or utility of this behavior), indicates points the viewer can make for himself. But for me there simply wasn't enough conspiracy or enough pleasure; only about enough for a short film. The idea of a conspiracy of pleasure is brilliant, I think, and had me viewing society in a new way (for a few hours at least), but here it only goes as far as the characters' connecting in various odd, often antilogical ways. I would have liked to see more of a conspiracy, either actual or metaphorical, and not just random connections. I would have liked to see more pleasure, too. The concentration, isolation, desperation, fear, and excitement of pursuing the erotic muse are all precisely conveyed, but not the ecstasy they're in aid of. Still,... (recycle to beginning of paragraph)
