Compositions resembling Puritan stocks, locking the un-actors in a Carl Dreyer hammergrip; wooden-faced line-readers, resembling Krupp Armaments executives and their wives, cannonading through dullish, classroom-style monologues; uber-Teutonic pauses for a stagy sip of coffee or stilted stare in the middle distance--staying awake through Jean-Marie Straub and Daniele Huillet's brush-clearing work of sixties-film-festival torment resembles the feeling of Hermann Goering falling on your head.
Review of Not Reconciled
