Rating: /5
Criterion Challenge 2022 | 29/52 | Out of Print Criterion Releases
At the time of The Blood of a Poet, I ... avoid the deliberate manifestations of the unconscious in favor of a kind of half-sleep through which I wandered as though in a labyrinth. — Jean Cocteau
A masked man ushers us past stage lights. A door begins to unlock, but…
Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. Nothing but blood and tears in exchange for these axes, faces, unicorns, torches, towers, blackbirds, half-stars, and fields of azure!
We arrive at Act 1 of 4: The Wounded Hand, or The Scars of the Poet. The shirtless artist sketches a face— the camera focused on his back tattoo of a star, obscured by a scar. Suddenly, the face begins to move. Horrified, the artist smears out the mouth, only to find it transferred to his hand. After using the hand to pleasure himself, he thinks of new applications, drawing him into dangerous explorations of art as the abjection from our psychological wounds.
1930 was a transitional time for film. Here, we have a film that combines silent and talkie methods—cards for the dialogue but synchronized sound and score. The hand transferred to the artist’s hand can speak. The film has a narrator.
Féral Benga’s appearance in the film is satisfying. His androgynous look is perfect for the guardian angel role. And it’s fascinating to see Lee Miller in her only movie role—I understand why so many artists went gaga over her.
Visually, the film is a masterwork. Its editing is precise yet, at times, interpretive. The black-and-white is rich and dynamic. The compositions are compelling and innovative. Aesthetically, the film lacks the nuance that Cocteau sought, but it is a beautiful start to a rich career.