Flutes rock!

An oblique, penetrating, and relentlessly bleak exercise in arthouse dread. I'm not entirely sure all of its artistic choices landed, but there's something here that is unclassifiable and hard to shake off.

Sure, Gilliam can often be a messy and frustrasting director, with his films frequently overstuffed and overwhelmed from a surfeit of bold visual ideas (his last film The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus being a prime example of being a mad, visually exuberent folly.) But I adore this film so much - from its Orwellian satire to the gorgeous, noir-ish set design and gallows humour. It remains one of Gilliam's most visionary, breathtaking works. A (flawed) masterpiece.

I loved this—it shows a real progression from Tinta Bruta. A queer, blisteringly sexy, and beautifully kinky take on the erotic thriller, it draws inspiration from the lurid thrills and impressionist framing of De Palma, Hitchcock, Yann Gonzalez, Almodóvar, and Paul Verhoeven. I need more arty, trashy gay erotic thrillers in my life.