The Blackout ★★★½

Ferrari at his most abstract; I've never seen him swerve out so far into the depths of organized-chaos expressionism --the movie's a blur of dreams, flashbacks, temporal jumps and double exposures, like the 8 1/2 of an artist collapsing into the mental hellspace of addiction misery. As in Bad Lieutenant, the possibility of redemption is extended... and withheld.

The mesiness of it reminded me of loopy artsploitation pieces like Baledon's Nana and Cardona Jr.'s Casa Que Arde... and, curiously, allusions to a French version of Nana are a big part of the narrative content. Go figure...

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