Valley of the Gods

(Mauro Lanari) With a visionariness that wants to confront that of Kubrick, Noé, Van Dormael, Aronofski, Welles, Trier, the first Herzog, the first Greenaway and who knows how many further surrealists in the history of cinema, in his trip Majewski embraces misology reducing the clash between capitalist parasitism and the tradition of the North American natives in a slew of spiritual phanies understandable only to an ethnologist expert in Navajo mythology. Narcissistic aestheticism satisfied by what it seems to condemn, I haven't seen something like this since the days of "Noah" (in the alternative: since Jodorowsky and Sorrentino): after 2 hours you leave Dullea's rococo room and breathe a sigh of relief.