I just didn’t expect a pensive, patient little art film to do that to me-to come at me with a rush of cosmic fury and not relent for almost twenty minutes. It wasn’t until Sister Ruth revealed her awful, predatory true self that the movie pulled me into the heart of its darkness. ![]() For the first hour or so, I liked it, thought it was visually pleasing and stimulating in an academic sense. Having bought a Criterion DVD at a jumble sale (the poor fool who threw it away!), I played it one lazy morning. On the other hand, Black Narcissus refused me any such revelation until it was almost over. It may have been the first time in my life that I encountered Art, that grand, fearsome, traumatic thing that we hear so much about. It horrified me, shocked me, inspired me, and changed me. ![]() It was like looking through the eyes of another, not through a point-of-view shot, not even through the lens of a different philosophy-but through the eyes of madness, of someone for whom destruction was lovely. I’ve loved Apocalypse Now from the first time I watched that orange feathering of napalm burn through lush tropical forests to the lilting, funereal strains of “The End.” That opening shot spoke to me, whispering the truth of how ugly things can be beautiful and how the camera can charm that beauty forth. He split from the whole f**king program.”
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