INSERTS (1974), Director: John Byrum.
This an incredible film and I don’t say it lightly. It has both the timeless quality of a well made period film and enough avent-garde sensibility, subsumed within the nostalgia and pathos, to maintain a sharp, even biting meta-commentary on its historical subject matter. We are lucky to observe great actors in a rare, presumably bi-continental project, that at the time must have been a bittersweet mise-en-scene. The intensity of all parties concerned—actors burning brightly, ace cinematographer, more than competent editor, and director, making art—makes for a respite from and lesson for the ages.
[Ed. Note: Our reviewer is not a filmmaker nor a decorated critic replete with C.V. that includes a stint at the Sorbonne. That being said, he likes to write about movies; and, it bears mentioning, he has severe writers block. So all we receive are his little dribblings.
We here at Sycophantia are used to little dribblings, whether they be spittle, drool, the diminutive oozings of premature ejaculate, or short written pieces. Thank you.]