Melancholie der Engel

Maybe 75Melancholie der engel is a movie that’s associated with existential bleakness.They don’t moralize. It simply shows the cruelty of being born id say, the emptiness of existence.It’s disturbing, but not in a grotesque way, more like exposing life. We all end up in the same place.I like the long takes, the silence.

Maybe 75Melancholie der engel is a movie that’s associated with existential bleakness.They don’t moralize. It simply shows the cruelty of being born id say, the emptiness of existence.It’s disturbing, but not in a grotesque way, more like exposing life. We all end up in the same place.I like the long takes, the silence.

I know the first half of this movie is just dialogue and barely anything happening and the second half is straight up torture.

But theres something so beautiful about this movie that i think only a rare group of people will understand

I know the first half of this movie is just dialogue and barely anything happening and the second half is straight up torture.

But theres something so beautiful about this movie that i think only a rare group of people will understand

You think you can hurt me?I’ve survived Melancholie der Engel—this 16-year-old cinematic abyss dragged straight out of Satan’s private collection. It’s not a film. It’s a German-laced fever dream soaked in filth, despair, and monologues that echo like the cries of forgotten souls. No context. No mercy. No escape.

It claims to be nihilistic, but paradoxically, it’s the most meaningful emptiness I’ve ever witnessed. A symphony of decay that dares you to find reason where none exists.

And no—I don’t want to forget it. This isn’t trauma. This is a memoir. A carved reminder that no storm, no hell, no darkness after this will ever swallow me whole again. I made it through this. I’ll make it through anything.

You think you can hurt me?I’ve survived Melancholie der Engel—this 16-year-old cinematic abyss dragged straight out of Satan’s private collection. It’s not a film. It’s a German-laced fever dream soaked in filth, despair, and monologues that echo like the cries of forgotten souls. No context. No mercy. No escape.

It claims to be nihilistic, but paradoxically, it’s the most meaningful emptiness I’ve ever witnessed. A symphony of decay that dares you to find reason where none exists.

And no—I don’t want to forget it. This isn’t trauma. This is a memoir. A carved reminder that no storm, no hell, no darkness after this will ever swallow me whole again. I made it through this. I’ll make it through anything.

bizarre. anyone who gave this five stars is either disturbed or just trying to show off. it barely makes sense and it’s gratuitously disgusting

bizarre. anyone who gave this five stars is either disturbed or just trying to show off. it barely makes sense and it’s gratuitously disgusting

bizarro

bizarro