There’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant to be.
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The Substance 2024
Everything comes from you. Everything is you.
Beauty is pain and beauty is a weapon, wielded rarely against others and almost exclusively against the self. Beauty, when you’re sat at the vanity, looking at the mirror that holds glass made to distort and condition- is rarely perceived by the eye of the beholder. But then, perceived exactly who by?
Is beauty absent because it cannot be seen?
And what does it mean to be seen?
A Lynch and Cronenberg lovechild…Translated from by -
Possession 1981
I can't exist by myself because I'm afraid of myself, because I'm the maker of my own evil.
A grotesque but masterful narrative that unfolds against the backdrop of a crumbling marriage in a manner that is compellingly captivating. Delving deep into the labyrinth of human emotions, it meticulously sketches the portrait of deteriorating love and sanity with strokes of visceral intensity.
Andrzej Żuławski wields his camera with unwavering precision alike a scalpel, skillfully dissecting the raw, untamed emotions of…Translated from by
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Videodrome 1983
Television is reality. And reality is less than television.
The eye is the window to the soul. And the impressions of our technological world, brimming with information, colors and sounds, on our human senses; the unspoken fascination with the illicit, the horror of violence; morph our sense of reality.
The boundaries of reality and consciousness.
Where our curiosity stops and it forms into a need for the satiation of the forbidden.
Does media turn us violent, would violence be (relatively)…Translated from by -
Autumn Sonata 1978
I have never grown up. My face and my body have aged. I acquire memories and experiences but inside all that I haven't even been born. I can't remember any faces not even my own.
Memories of the past summers age as we do, and as time flies by, we remember not only the flowers we picked and the butterflies grazing the sky but the bruises we acquired chasing after those butterflies. Not only the skipping but the stumbling and…
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Lost Highway 1997
You’ll never have me.
Hypnotic and spiritual, daring and confrontational. Cold, beige walls and red leather couches, thick smoke and flashing neon lights. Winding silk, glistening nail polish and whispered promises. Questions, confusion, an ounce of clarity interrupted by visions that smudge the line between reality and delusion.
Because what is reality, what is delusion? How do we define - or decide - what is real and what is not? How do we cope with what is real?
The performances,…Translated from by -
Mirrored Mind 2005
Wherever you are, you are no one but you.
You are always creating the world you see.Sadness, hopelessness and the feeling of having lost all joy in things that you love are crushing emotions. Sometimes, I can’t bring myself to write a single sentence, and it feels like all my ideas and inspirations are locked behind a door. I somehow can’t reach them. Can’t write what I thought of. Can’t draw what I envisioned. And sometimes, the four walls…
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