Albert Serra is certainly… someone. Not many films have me asking, “What is this doing?” in as unanswered a fashion as his. My best takeaway is that this feels like some kind of strange mix of arthouse Monty Python and the Holy Grail meets profane black metal meets deconstruction. I’m not convinced enough about its authentic spiritualism. When the kings were dogpiled on top of one another I was sure this was all one joke. And looking back, even that early on, had me thinking this is some sardonic retelling. Having the three kings walk back and forth through the desert feels comically blasphemic. There is an image of Mary, draped in white, with a lamb, seated in this darkly lit monochrome shot that is a black metal album cover if I ever saw one. And then, the lamb pees on Mary; it’s almost Buñuelian in its profanity.
Albert Serra is certainly… someone. Not many films have me asking, “What is this doing?” in as unanswered a fashion as his. My best takeaway is that this feels like some kind of strange mix of arthouse Monty Python and the Holy Grail meets profane black metal meets deconstruction. I’m not convinced enough about its authentic spiritualism. When the kings were dogpiled on top of one another I was sure this was all one joke. And looking back, even that early on, had me thinking this is some sardonic retelling. Having the three kings walk back and forth through the desert feels comically blasphemic. There is an image of Mary, draped in white, with a lamb, seated in this darkly lit monochrome shot that is a black metal album cover if I ever saw one. And then, the lamb pees on Mary; it’s almost Buñuelian in its profanity.
