Prospero's Books

Starring: John Gielgud

Peter Greenaway is so weird I can't stand it. Perhaps I wasn't in the right mood, but I lasted through only about an hour of this mutant picture, which can best be likened to watching a music video of a bad song by a band you hate. Not too promising. Let's face it, "The Cook, etc." was basically an unpleasant film to watch, but at least it had a structure and a story, and something resembling protagonists and antagonists. Here Greenaway has totally abandoned all pretense of story; he doesn't seem to have the slightest interest in what I would call narrative or dramatic structure. He seems to only want to bring life to his most hallucinogenic visions, but the assaultive soundtrack, split screen gimmicks, sonic gimcrackery and utter incomprehensibility quickly become wearing. What purports to be a riff on Shakespeare soon devolves into something like performance art for the big screen (and I don't mean that kindly). Greenaway puts the "A" back into avant-garde. If that's your bag, then by all means go to it. (1/24/92)