StunnaKrypto Self-important, over-dramatic, uninspired.

2freensel I saw this movie before reading any reviews, and I thought it was very funny. I was very surprised to see the overwhelmingly negative reviews this film received from critics.

ChanFamous I wanted to like it more than I actually did... But much of the humor totally escaped me and I walked out only mildly impressed.

Cody One of the best movies of the year! Incredible from the beginning to the end.

insomnia Koji Wakamatsu's "Ecstacy Of The Angels" runs for a mere eighty-nine minutes. After it ended it felt more like eight nine hours. Wakamatsu, known as the "Pink Godfather" (no, don't ask me why), was a pioneer of the pinku eiga genre. I had never heard the name Wakamatsu before. According to the blurb in the festival guide, "Ecstacy of The Angels" is a parable about a revolutionary organization torn apart by betrayal, its members descending into paranoia, sadism and sexual decadence. It sounded like a plot from an early Godard film, only from a Japanese perspective. This sounded interesting, I thought. It was about as interesting as having a tooth extracted. The opening sequence, in black and white, is set in a nightclub. A female singer screeches absurd lyrics, while at a nearby table three men and a woman sit in silence. Pretty soon though, I couldn't figure out which revolutionary faction was which, and by that time I was beyond caring. The actors don't just speak their lines, the bellow them at each other, as if they were all auditory challenged. In the frequent sex scenes (which are about as erotic as two storefront mannequins coupling), they go through the motions of sexual congress while mouthing absurd platitudes about fighting for the revolutionary cause. Frankly, Wakamatsu is definitely no match for Godard. Which reminds me, I need to visit my dentist for a check up. It'll be less painful all round.

Kalle Kanin Having greatly enjoyed Wakamatsu's earlier film Go, Go Second Time Virgin, I was very excited to come across this one. The excitement was however short lived. Or should I say endless because that is about how long this movie seems. Rarely have I looked at the counter on my VCR more often to see how much more I would have to endure.It was much the same feeling as when after seeing Godard's wonderfully early new wave movies, I was subjected to La Chinoise or Pierrot Le Fou. Actually Ecstacy of the Angels seem very much inspired by this more avant-garde side of Godard's film-making. But without the originality.There is plenty of sex and violence here, and layers and layers of what is most likely satire on political idealism and the media's exploitation of sex and violence. And possibly even sex and violence in cinema itself. A film mocking film maybe. There is that term yet again: Sex and violence. Usually a safe recipe for good entertainment, be it in celluloid or newsprint form. But the problem here is that the message is lost in all the boring scenes and purposely stiff dialog. You will quickly lose track of who belongs to which revolutionary faction. You are probably supposed to. Is the movie supposed to show us how predictable and repetitious our lust for sex and violence is? Because it's all the same here. Every scene is just more of the same. Tedious repetition. Maybe that is the message. Is that why all the characters are named after seasons and weekdays? Possibly.Whatever it is, it all seems rather outdated and unoriginal now. It's just plain boring. Maybe it wasn't in Japan in 1972.You do sort of get a picture of the screenplay being written on a roll of toilet paper by a couple of drunk pretentious intellectuals looking for an excuse to get some young actresses to take their clothes off. Which would in that case be the one side of this movie that would seem perfectly reasonable to me. I'm sure there is an intellectual masterpiece in there somewhere. A deeper meaning. But life is just to short to look for it. I simply cannot bear to watch this one again.

MARIO GAUCI The third film I have watched from this director is the most skillful but, perhaps, the most exasperating as well: something of a political allegory, the detail is so obscure, however, that one tends not to care about what happens to any of the characters - members (ambiguously named after week-days) of the various terrorist factions (named after months and seasons) involved, and who may or may not be double-crossing one another! As usual, gratuitous sex and excessive violence are the order of the day and, once again, there are haphazard switches to color which serve no discernible function (but who can tell with a film as pretentious as this one?). Still, the final montage of suicidal bombings is notable...and, in any case, this type of art film - however tested one's patience may be by its gross self-indulgence - cannot be objectively criticized, or easily ignored!

tedg Spoilers herein.I particularly appreciate films whose manner is consistent with its matter. This one is, but the problem is that the overriding notion is deliberate lifelessness. I suppose there is a certain teenage audience for this sort of thing: masochistic narcissism. But once someone has done it -- or even thought about it, it is enough for us all.The idea is life by slogan, by motion. Dry sex. Inherited passion. Emulated life. Confused but committed participants. Pretty tired and tiring stuff. The novelty here is the film is designed the same way as a sort of art-as-politics. Pass on this. It is almost as bad as TeeVee without the plastic giggles.Ted's Evaluation -- 1 of 3: You can find something better to do with this part of your life