User Reviews

Written and directed by incandescent maniac Klaus Kinski, Paganini is basically Kinski loping around like a werewolf ravaging teen girls to a violin soundtrack. The film was something of a passion project for Kinki - the only film he directed, perhaps understandably - and he felt a strong connection to Paganini and felt they shared many qualities.

There are quite a few scenes which linger interminably on Klaus Kinski's real life son, playing Paganini's son. His wife is played by Debora Caprioglio, who perhaps was really married to Kinki at some point, though I'm not sure. For more of her work I recommend the Tinto Brass film Paprika.

An interesting enough watch, though probably exclusively for Kinski fans. Much is added by knowing his background and exploits as the film is clearly commenting on his self-image as much as Paganini.

Filmed entirely using natural lighting, the film Paganini is an honest attempt by writer/director/actor Klaus Kinski to portray the life of the legendary violinist. Some of the scenes filmed indoors, particularly in the theater have an eerie surreal feel to it, much to Kinski's foresight to film it without any electrical lighting and often using only candle light for illumination. I've read Kinski's autobiography. The parallels between the two (Kinski and Paganini) are eerie and more than coincidental. Both obsessed over young girls; the younger the better. Both were and are considered to be geniuses in their respective fields. Both gave impassioned performances to the point of being referred to as being "demonic" in nature. Both made enormous sums of money, but inevitably squandered it away. And both had young sons late in life whom they absolutely and without doubt, worshipped. Originally Klaus had presented this film as a very long 3 hour plus movie. It would have been interesting to see exactly what he had in mind if this version had ever been released, but alas, producers only allowed a very sparse 82 minute cut version of what Klaus Kinski described to be the work of his life. It really is too bad that the original longer version isn't available. After viewing this film one is left with a very unfulfilled and empty feeling. Too often, there is little character development within Nicolo Paganini's aquaintances and conquests. In particular an affair with a member of a royal family. While this film outwardly appears to be little more than a tawdry, lewd effort on Kinski's part, it more importantly portrays Paganini as a suffering shell of a human being; never satisfied with anything and all too often left unsatiated, unfulfilled, and all too often, spiritually dead The film has a remarkable soundtrack thanks to the efforts of virtuoso violinist Salvatore Accardo. It also features performances by Kinski's lolita wife, Deborah Caprioglio Kinski and his son Nikolai "Nanhoi" Kinski, who both perform their roles admirably. This is a definite "must see" movie, regardless of whether or not you are a fan of Klaus Kinski. Sadly, it is the last film he ever made.

Having appeared briefly in A SONG TO REMEMBER (1945), the Hollywood film about Frederic Chopin, I thought of watching this radical take on the life of Niccolo' Paganini (his own mainstream biopic came courtesy of the British THE MAGIC BOW {1946}, starring Stewart Granger). Anyway, this notorious film proved not only Kinski's sole directorial effort but his swan-song. By this time, he had proved so difficult that nobody wanted to employ him – the film's producer, Augusto Caminito, was apparently one of the few who could reason with him and, in fact, apart from helming the little-seen GRANDI CACCIATORI (1988; co-starring Harvey Keitel), he would replace Mario Caiano after the latter threw in the towel and abandoned VAMPIRE IN VENICE (1988)! Those two films were nothing to write home about, but they feel like real cinema, whereas this is an incoherent mess of a softcore home movie! Apparently, Kinski identified with violinist Paganini (who here is repeatedly described as a crippled monster yet women shamelessly lust for him!) because of their parallel lives – both being misunderstood geniuses with a voracious sexual appetite (of course, the fact that Kinski saw himself like that speaks volumes about the size of his ego)...to the point that the film is generally referred to as KINSKI PAGANINI!

Incidentally, the version I watched (where Kinski delivers his own lines in soft-spoken but heavily-accented Italian, despite being ostensibly a local!) ran just 81 minutes, which is how it was released theatrically (edited from a reportedly 12-hour TV mini-series!). Why the film was given a manic, haphazard pace (there is no plot to speak of here, as if we were only intended to catch a cursory glimpse of Paganini's backstory, which basically resolves itself in a succession of carriage-rides anyway!) when it could have been extended to, say, 2 hours with a proper beginning, middle and end, is beyond me – but, then, it would probably not have been worthy of attention, except that, as it stands now and the way I see it, it only elicits contempt! I know of Kinski's reputation (the Italian "Stracult" TV program even showed scenes of him going apeshit during the shooting of this very film, its subsequent press conference and other Italian movies he worked on) but this had never interfered with my appreciation of his undeniable acting talent. Here, however, by assuming complete control (after his frequent director Werner Herzog turned him down flat, which soured their relationship even more than it already was!), one can only place the film's shortcomings at his door. For the record, a recent German DVD edition unearthed a "Director's Cut" of PAGANINI running 95 minutes, which suggests that Kinski always knew he would end up with merely the skeleton of the original version – indeed, on the afore-mentioned program, Kinski is seen wildly operating the camera himself, and no amount of post-production tweaking can adjust a shot that is badly-framed, out-of-focus or underexposed…but, as I said, more judicious editing – rather than relying solely on instinct – could have improved the overall quality or, at least, allowed the viewer to care about what he was being asked to watch!

Needless to say, the film ends up giving Art-house cinema a bad name, not just because of its ungainly approach but mainly because it cannibalizes other film-makers without ever hoping to match their dexterity: apart from the fragmented structure a' la Nicolas Roeg (down to Paganini's son rushing to and aching over him in slow-motion at the moment of the violinist's death, in a reverse situation to the one at the start of DON'T LOOK NOW {1973}) and its being shot by utilizing only natural light (in clear imitation of Stanley Kubrick's BARRY LYNDON {1975}), we also get an irrelevant horse-mating scene (to go along with shots of Dalila Di Lazzaro pleasuring herself whilst thinking of Maestro Paganini!) lifted outright from Walerian Borowczyk's similarly smutty but far more considerable – and rewarding – THE BEAST (1975)! Incidentally, the film co-stars two of Kinski's family members: his last wife, Debora Caprioglio (billed Kinski), and his son Nikolai Kinski. While the former is not given much to do (especially since she has to share Paganini with so many other adulating women, including Italian starlet Eva Grimaldi as Napoleon Bonaparte' sister, who carries on with Paganini in full military regalia!), the boy is quite good – indeed, the film only connects on an emotional level during his scenes with Daddy (and it was undeniably poignant to watch the older Kinski dote so unreservedly over his offspring, keeping in mind also that he would die within 2 years!). Also turning up briefly in the film are Feodor Chaliapin as an elderly authority figure hellbent on expelling Paganini from the country for his licentiousness, and celebrated mime Marcel Marceau incarnating the musician in a staged parody of his exploits.

However, the star/writer/director's egomania, high opinion of himself (at one point, Paganini – and, by extension, Kinski – is literally described as being able to give himself a hard-on through the playing of his musical instrument!) and his lack of experience behind the camera sabotages at every turn the film's aspirations as an objective look at the mind-set of a creative but evidently troubled personality. The fact that Paganini's predilection for underage girls, which obviously landed him in trouble with the Law, elicits the ire of the people can only be shared by the audience, who are thus forced to participate in the masturbatory fantasies of an ageing and deranged narcissist who has pretty much hit rock-bottom on all conceivable levels! In the end, I should mention that Paganini's music is heard practically incessantly throughout but, rather than evoking the accomplishment of the work itself, one is left with ears reeling squeamishly from the strident notes!

I wanted to like this film, but it depressed the hell out of me. I notice that several reviews follow the pattern "a fascinating insight into Kinski's mind", but it seems to me (having read his autobiography) that his mind wasn't very interesting. His egomania wasn't matched by competence as a filmmaker, and by the time of this film his acting was reduced to going through the motions - and the motions are often extremely hysterical, but in irritating slow motion! His insistence on using natural lighting doesn't make him a Kubrick - just inept. As a musician, I see no trace of any insight into Paganini here, and the latter was indeed a fascinating human being. I suspect that part of the problem is that Kinski was surrounded by hangers-on, worshippers, arse-lickers (probably literally, in slow motion), sycophants, who either didn't notice that he was producing tripe or were afraid to tell him. The sad, sad thing is that he wasted so much of his life trying to put this farrago together, and that the frustrations of it may have hastened his death. Kinski will be remembered for Woyzeck, for Aguirre, for Fitzcarraldo. His stage performances were extraordinary - the very last one was filmed, and I saw it recently - just an unadorned recitation of the Sermon on the Mount. However, here too his egomania and lack of self-criticism distorted the whole thing: accused of hypocrisy by an audience member, all he can do is throw the microphone stand (not the microphone!) into the audience and storm off. Nearly 30 years later, Paganini has replaced Jesus, but the delusions of grandeur are the same.

Anything that Klaus Kinski is in is interesting but the only film that he directed is a compelling abortion! No pacing, lousy editing, mangled dubbing and female admirers screaming to have sex with Paganini. I heard that this was suppose to be a mini-series but the studio was so ashamed of it they edited down to a 90 minute film. Kinski has his girlfriend or wife and his son in it. In fact, his son did an okay job. I'm not sure what Kinski wanted to say here or how he expected the audience to react but it really is an incomprehensible mess. But a fascinating one to watch!

Klaus Kinski, full-time actor and madman, takes on the character of Paganini in this painterly tableau of the artist's obsessions and world.

Kinski assumes the role of star, director, occasional cameraman and places family members in prominent parts. The film is heavy on symbolism and sparse in the storytelling department. It is basically a series of meditations and the artist at rest before he goes on rampages of sex, as frenetic as his violin playing. The film is full of often beautiful photography (mostly using natural light or candles) and the distorted vision of the period comes to life in a staggering way. In terms of narrative, it is a complete fiasco, but Kinski does not give a damn about the story. He cares about the character and the moment. As such, character and moment are as intense and vibrant as any Kinski performance.

Kinski as an actor always seemed to burn through the screen. This film is 100% Kinski. Therefore, predictably, it is completely overwhelming, unbearable one might say, even if one overlooks the manic sex scenes (a heroic feat): a woman touches herself to the sound of Paganini's playing, while horses fornicate; the camera whirls savagely about as Paganini dives hungrily into an admirer's skirt, etc. Frankly these scenes would be out of place in any other movie. What unsettles here is the fact that they seem entirely at home in this crazed psychopath of a film.

Kinski Paganini is impossible to rate. You will very likely hate it (all the more so if you see it in the company of other people). As a window into Klaus Kinski's mind, it is essential. And, since it is a completely personal work featuring the creator's obsessions and themes, under his complete control, it fits the dictionary definition of art. Art is in the eye of the beholder (so no one need feel personally insulted), and for better or worse, this is one of the rare times I have seen its kind on a screen. You get it or you don't, and on a visceral level since narrative or sense is not the issue (in fact the only similar film is Luis Bunuel's "Un Chien Andalou", where you just follow a train of thought...).

A train-wreck of a film. Filmed with bewildering sensitivity and and fueled by intimidating passion, this is the cinematic expression of a man's soul.

This was one of the worse movies I've ever seen. Poor of ideas, it covers just the maniac but the musician (and actor, too), it's just a soft-core porno that pretends to be poetic. Cameramen seem to be drunk or something all over the time. Music is annoying despite being protagonist. I've seen it in Italian, and Kinski choose not to be dubbed, so Paganini (who was from Genoa where the accent is soft and musical) speaks like a south-Tyrolian at Oktoberfest, pathetic. Stay away from this garbage or you'll lose faith in "fitzcarraldo" Kinksi as actor, and it's a pity, cause when he's directed by someone good, not him, he's great.

Note: I thought it would be more in line with the spirit of the film if I capitalised every instance of KLAUS KINSKI's name being used throughout this review

I have no doubt that this is the most narcissistic film ever to see the inside of a cinema. Even the very title KINSKI Paganini shows a total lack of restraint.

It begins with an audience of pretty women frigging themselves senseless as KINSKI lashes at his violin. The whole movie is pretty much a montage of women losing complete control of their senses at the mere thought of KINS--- I mean Paganini. Even eleven year old girls wish they could, for but one second, experience the full thrust of his virility. He even sends sea-animals into a dizzy frenzy of lust- and horses, too. You see two horses going at it early on in the film and I'm sure both of them were secretly thinking of KINSKI. At least that's what he probably wanted us to think.

Just like with Dennis Hopper's The Last Movie, whatever plot may have been present whilst shooting was completely torn to shreds in the editing suite. What remains is a lot of strangely pretty shots of KINSKI power-walking through a lush 19th Century Europe or cavorting with buxom underrage actresses inside ornate manor houses. It's mostly shot in a cinéma vérité style. If it weren't for the fact that he's on screen for almost every second of the movie, I wouldn't be surprised if it was KINSKI himself manning the camera. The only time you see shots of anyone else is when a beautiful woman is rubbing herself lustfully, her thoughts occupied by the eponymous scowling Nosferatu with sweaty jet-black hair and a bald patch.

Ah, but KINSKI has a more sensitive side, too. Just like that memorable scene in My Best Fiend where he gently plays with a butterfly that's become strangely enamoured of him, we see him care for his exceptionally pretty young son. Although even this relationship seems oddly lusty.

The camera-work, well-staged as most of it is, has far too many close- ups. You almost never see any wide shots showing off the beautiful locations. There's absolutely no doubt in my mind at all this is because KINSKI wanted KINSKI to fill up the frame as much as possible. According to his ol' sparring partner Herzy, KINSKI threw a tantrum for not having the opening shot to Aguirre be a close-up of him walking down that misty mountain, instead of the hundreds of people and cattle that we actually saw. Well, he finally got his way.

In all likelihood, you'll absolutely loathe this movie. And you'll probably be right to. But there is a strange energy coursing throughout- that of a man at the end of his tether, foreseeing his death, and spending all his remaining lifeblood on this one final work.

I believe KLAUS KINSKI may have been an incredibly rare genetic throwback to some transitional Cro-Magnon race. He shows no signs of the tempering of thousands of years of social evolution. He's like some purely physical being. You can tell that by the time this movie was shot, he didn't so much burn the candle at both ends as throw it into the fire and cackle maniacally as it melted. He died two years after this was released. It was the last film he shot in a career that spanned over 130 movies. I can't think of a more fitting way to go out.

If you came here as a Paganini fan rather than a KINSKI fan (as if anyone could be a bigger fan of KINSKI than KINSKI himself), you can always just imagine this is a sexy 80-minute music video to some of Paganini's works. The interpretations by Salvatore Accardo are wonderfully performed.

Hmmm. First half is pornographic sh*t. The second is better. What I liked was Kinski walking and playing violin, and his son grieving in the end. I think he (Kinski) had some kind of an idea about this film that he failed to bring to a good film. Contrast between music and macabre footage on the screen? Independent unchained life and art of Paganini? The time line was interesting, no real plot line, Fragments. It was made for those who already know the Paganini-story, so the plot isn't really necessary, but only the hectic feeling matters. This was really simple movie, it had some really powerful and good scenes, but the rest is just really bad. The symbolism (lamb) makes me laugh. This was quite embarrassing for a Kinski fan. Beware!

Censureship sucks!

I watched Paganini for the first time, then ran to watch bits of Fitzcarraldo again. I just realized why: It was the armchair cineaste's equivalent of taking a shower to rinse the muck off after watching Paganini.

I needed to watch Fitzcarraldo to remind myself that, yes, Kinski was a great actor. And he was.

I never thought I'd actually find a genuine-article case of this, but in Paganini you have Kinski finally using film--and his fans--as a full-tilt surrogate for his fading fantasy that he's the rooster in the barnyard.

It really is shameless. People thought that Woody Allen used film like this way long after he shoulda. Well, guess what? Allen is a piker.

If you're curious to see a great film star at his lowest ebb in this particular regard, watch Paganini.

Now, people in these comments extol the natural lighting, Kinski's raw magnetism, the unstudied editing, the artful inattention to technique in general, genuinely moving scenes of familial love, etc., etc. Yes, all those things are arguably there. I'm not just being conciliatory for rhetorical effect. But there comes a time when you have to admit the evidence of what you're seeing before your very eyes, and the conclusion is inescapable: Kinski is jerking off at our expense. He's not just exercising an eccentric degree of artistic license. He's lost in unfiltered, unsublimated sexual self-aggrandizement.

It's a question that has been asked by film critics and casual moviegoers alike for as long as cinema has been a medium: can you separate the art from the artist? There are some who take one extreme and say that no, you never, ever, ever can separate the art from the artist and vice versa. There are some, like myself, who take a middle position and argue that it really depends on the circumstances. There are others who take another extreme and say that you should always separate the art from the artist, regardless of the person or medium. For those people, this movie is an 800-pound gorilla plowing through the wall in a King Tiger tank and saying, "Hold my kegger."

"Paganini" is a pet project by Klaus Kinski done near the end of his film career. It's about Niccolò Paganini, the famous Italian violinist and composer... though music aficionados expecting another "Amadeus" should probably look elsewhere. A lot of other reviewers have referred to this film as if it's an art house project or some kind of avant-garde experiment, but even there one is stretching it. The first half of the movie largely deals with Paganini's romantic conquests (although I use the phrase "romantic" loosely... more on that later), while the second half deals with the relationship between Paganini and his son Achille. Those are really the prominent focuses on each section. As I said, if you're expecting an interesting character study like "Amadeus", you're instead going to be treated to something that feels like a low budget porn film. If you're expecting at least a pretty period film, you're also going to be disappointed: a lot of this film feels either too cheap or too ugly to really be visually appreciated. Heck, it doesn't even feel that well filmed, and Kinski's direction is bare bones when it comes to that. ("Barry Lyndon" this film is not.)

Some reviewers have said the movie is a lot like Kinski himself... and therein lies the problem I mentioned at the beginning. What do you do when a man known to be an egotistical, abusive sexual deviant makes a movie wherein he plays an egotistical, abusive sexual deviant?

Read some of the behind-the-scenes stuff about the actresses involved, and most of them are about how Kinski sexually assaulted and raped them on camera. (I know the real Paganini was a horndog, but apparently Kinski interpreted him as a serial rapist.) How exactly are we supposed to take scenes where Paganini is holding women down while they struggle or scream, and take it all in stride as "just a movie", when in fact that was probably how the woman actually felt? Add to this the very real fact that Kinski was a pedophile who sexually abused and groomed his firstborn daughter Pola Kinski, then later attempted to do the same to his other daughter Nastassja Kinski. Supposedly Natassja was almost going to be in this film along with her half-brother, but quit after one day of shooting. (I can only imagine why.) So when I accuse Kinski of being an abusive sexual deviant, I'm not kidding.

And as for ego? The first five minutes of the film are literally Kinski standing there, as Paganini, while a whole theater claps for him and women pine over him. And before anyone accuses me of reading too much into that scene, remember this is a guy who threw food at a supporter because he felt like the man didn't compliment him ENOUGH. Look up his spoken word performance as Jesus Christ, where he loses it and leaves the stage as soon as he's heckled, and even after the hecklers are removed and his most loyal fans are gathered around, he still loses it because he feels like they're not paying attention enough. Read his autobiography, where he claims to have had numerous sexual escapades himself. (Most of which have been denied by the women.) So no, when Kinski's standing there, being applauded by everyone, and all the women in the theater look like they want him then and there, it's hard for me to think that wasn't how he perceived himself. He probably really thought he was like Paganini: this great, underrated genius that women desired more than life itself.

I said at the beginning that as far as the idea of "separating the art from the artist" goes, you can only take that so far. Yes, there are times you can do that. I can watch Andrew Robinson in "Dirty Harry" and still love him as an actor because I know that, in real life, he's not the kind of man who would take a busload of elementary school kids hostage, threaten to shoot their mommies, and force them at gunpoint to sing "Row Row Row Your Boat". I can watch John Travolta in "Battlefield Earth" and still like him as a person because, from everything I've heard, he's a super nice guy in real life, and the Scientology stuff is, for him, more about personal faith than something he tries to push on everyone he knows. By contrast, when I see Kinski in his movies assaulting women, screaming his lungs out, declaring himself to be a god, and tossing monkeys around, it's hard for me to say, "He's just acting" and move on. No, that's not acting - that's really who he is.

If you're a die-hard Klaus Kinski fan who likes to tell everyone he's a fantastic actor while covering your eyes and ears to the fact he was abusive to his own daughters and regularly maimed and abused (verbally and physically) fellow actors and crewmembers on set, then by all means see this movie. If you're looking for a real biopic, then look elsewhere.

I know everything about Kinski, we've had quite the relationship spanning since 2/24/07. He is finally at his more depraved bizarre worst. I've heard it called a porn film, well its close to that but hey its Kinski what do you expect? What a tortured soul, but you can't help who you love, and i love the man-w*ore schizophrenic maniac.

This movie is so incredibly awful, I don't recommend anyone to watch it ever. It's like a old school pornography film where a man creates his fantasy of banging under age girls while they beg for him to have more sex, things that don't happen. This goes on for most of the film at random times and his wife also begs to go with him as if she's not mad he's cheating on her. Then just a mess of bad violin music and the son making a few appearances and just complete jumbled editing and sounds. Really painful to watch and very boring. A massive waste of time. Literally watch anything other than this.

In this movie, Kinski gives his last great performance as the 19th century italian violin virtuoso Nicolo Paganini. People even say that Kinski is his reincarnation. At least, what we can say is that Kinski adopted the violin player's lifestyle. Paganini, in his time, was considered the first "rock star" even though rock wasn't even invented yet because he lived a life saturated with late parties, orgies and sexcapades of all kinds. No moral law, Carpe Diem all the way! Kinski was working on this project since the early 1970s. It was his little baby. And even though its narration is without any narration, with no genuinelike biographical anecdotes, its incoherent editing illustrates with wit, passion and violence what the murky worlds of Paganini and Kinski were all about. But beware, sensible people should pass this one.

Paganini the film by Klaus Kinski is a true work of Art... I think the reviewer before me just flat don't get it, it is far beyond their understanding.... First off Kinski really did capture the personality of the greatest Musician in history Nicolo Paganini... I also think the music in this film is wonderful, the acting is great, the directing is great.. I think one thing that may throw Hollywood fans, is that the film is done for Art reasons not for the all mighty dollar, greed, which is the number one killer of true ART... This film is about MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC.... and I think Kinski did a wonderful job with every angle, Hollyweird has tried their hands at making films about Composers and I think they should leave the Art to the Artist, and the ARTIST here is the passion of Klaus Kinski and the music of Nicolo Paganini.. this is now and will always be one of my favorite films.. if you like true ART and the some of the most amazing music ever written, then get this film you will not be sorry. Bravo for Kinski Paganini.... Curt

The tagline is not referring to the (too) many flairs in this film. This is not a film, but a myriad. Not unlike Tarkovsky's 'Mirror', the storyline is labyrinthic. In 'Paganini' we are plunged into the flow of life as seen just before dying, and within the flashbacks there are memories.

Son Achille, superbly played by son Nikolai Kinksi (without any hint of the lingual barriers that he must have experienced while shooting this demanding role; check out his role in 'Tortilla Soup', the Ang Lee goes Latin comedy where he plays very nicely a ... Brazilian.) watches the struggle of his father, adding his own reminiscence to the story.

Fragmented though it may be, this is a romantic tale, grand & tragic, told with passion and devotion. It took Klaus Kinski 20 years to create his heart's desire. So, I reckon, there are not many "mistakes", "loose ends", "murkiness" or "shabby editing" here. My guess is that all we see is well thought of (referring to the 'version originale' of Kinski himself, as to be seen on the German double disc DVD -with Italian, English & German dubs-, which shows besides loads of exciting extras both the Maestro's version as the producer's vulgarity). It is too easy to criticize. Who understood 'The Mirror' after a few viewings only ?

Kinski of course is no Tarkovsky. He is Maestro Klaus, and very probable the reincarnation of Paganini. But his Magnus Epos is not just an homage. It is even more than his life quest. Although Papa Klaus is omnipresent & inescapable, the torch is held by his son. Which makes KK a link between past & future. And that is truly amazing. Mr. Kinski, miracle-man.

PS:The story within the story of this story has not finished yet. Maybe one day someone close to the heart and mind of Klaus Kinski will dare and cut a 2hour-version of 'Paganini'. Maybe Mr. Nikolai ?

Klaus Kinski defined himself in his memories as the reincarnation of Paganini, his obsession for the violin genius made him writes,direct,edit and of course stars along with his wife and son ,this biopic that also was his cinematographic testament ,being the last movie he ever made before his death, and without any doubt the one that better defines his own personality....

Based in his own persona and experiences Kinski creates a portrait of Paganini through a succession of images that borders the pornographic, accompanied by the music of the genius, creating moment of pure ecstasy in which music and sex come together as part of the same thing.

The film shows a man trapped in himself, who is only able to see the world through his own art.

Kinski and Paganini becomes the same person in a desperate journey in the search of love, where they will be saved by most pure love that exist, the love of their own blood.

Kinski was surely an really outstanding performer. In this film it is only one thing which bothers me a little bit: Why is he plying the violin with the right hand? And you see some scenes with the hands of Accardo who as one of the greatest violin player and Paganini interpreter plays the Paganini scores, the hand you see is the usual left one. I cannot believe that Kinski made a mistake but still i do not get his message. The pictures in the film are overwhelming and you will really understand what is the effect of Paganini's music - and not only for women. The language of this pictures explain in subtly manner the eroticism of the Violin and especially of Paganin's music. The film is a must for all lovers of classical violin music.

This is a film that must be loved by few and hated by many. This film is one of the most narcissistic, mad movies of CINEMA I have seen in a long time: The need to express, relive and explore the famous mythos of PAGANINI drools from every frame of the film - PAGANINI as a symbol of KINSKI himself. It is no secret that he thought of his life similar to the musicians... controversial, aggressive, impulsive, violent, poetic, expressive and in need for attention and love.

This film lacks very much in a continuous narrative storyline, as KINSKI never gave a lot about that... the film is a compilation of moods, moments, music, poetry - dreamlike, like a memory and drunken visions about the future. If you expect this film to make some SENSE, you will be highly disappointed.

To me, this is a piece of ART, rather than conventional cinema. A highly intense autobiographic painting, sliced into intense, wild and aggressive erotic scenes, beautiful celluloid cinematography, all layered over a concert by PAGANINI.

Here are some elements of the film that impressed me the most:

• The sound design of the film is highly erratic, wild and purely mad - a wild interpretation of a concert by PAGANINI. The music nearly plays continuously, and if not, mostly the void is filled by erratic pleasure-screaming women, crying of babies or crowds cheering and screaming their souls away. There are rare silent moments and it are those that feel equally intense: closeups on Paganinis/Kinskis Son Achille, which is surrounded by nearly unbearable fatherly love - or silent moments where Paganini/Kinski sits, contemplating about the mess, madness and longings he lives in.

• The montage of images/scenes is highly poetic, not at all narrative - and very outrageously provocative. It goes straight to the soul, as it feels so pure and un-filtered, what KINSKI really moved...: may it be a masturbating women riding in a carriage combined with horses fornicating... may it be the loving gazes of his son, cuddling a kitten, while KINSKI plays, splattered with his own blood, his last madly furious interlude on the staircase. May it be the endless, highly graphic depictions of - very - aggressive intercourse with wild, nearly otherworlds insatiable young women mixed with screams and close ups onto his erratic expressions. The list is endless. Endless poetry, that makes you ask more questions that it could ever answer.

• The quality/beauty of cinematography. It seemed like KINSKI took at times the camera in his own hand for extra footage or slow-motion dreamlike chases of witchy women dancing in floating dresses: his vision becomes what we see on screen. Also the other imagery comes together with a constructed, distorted version of the period (set design), closeups, un-orthodox angles, beautiful pastel colors, dark blues, greens and browns, light by soft daylight or dreamy candle light. The images feel so dreamlike, it leaves you wondering if you are - still - dreaming.

• The pure expressive POWER of KINSKI, that could only unfold because he was narcissistic and mad enough to take on the main role, the direction and the montage of the film itself: he had the control and he poured all his pain, experiences, struggles, thoughts and emotions into each department. Surely, it would have been a pure PAIN in the back to work with him on set, but the result, even 30 years later, lost nothing of its energy.

You can draw many parallels between PAGANINI and KINSKI: his controversial role in media, loved and hated by many. His controversial performances on stage. His struggle to be neglected as an artist. His struggle between love and sexuality, aggression and nearly never-achieved peace in his heart. One can feel the pain and the struggle while watching. Putting close family members like his female partner or his son into leading roles as Paganini's wife and son makes this all feel more real than any fictional story could.

To me, personally, this film is a masterpiece - even if it is a highly MAD one, filled with rampaging aggression, exaggerated erotica, and way too many narcissistic elements. This film is not a conventional FILM, it is the expression of a life-long pain. The story of longing for love, a need to feel at peace in the world. The wild, blindly executed lust and the only thing that seemed to calm KINSKI/Paganini down: the love for his son... maybe BECAUSE it was so un-sexual. To me, this is proof and example how FILM can actually express the whole inner world of one person, turned into a fictional period adaption of a musician... the whole film speaks to me.

If you watch it, watch it alone and FEEL... don't judge. This is the closest you will ever get to KINSKI or... even so... to the core of a human being.

This movie is as crazy as its author is; you can love it or hate it , nothing else , no half measures. Kinsky is actor , director ,writer , editor ; this movie is compleately his , in good and bad way. Personally I loved it ; a delrium.

On violin , the greatest Paganini's performer : Salvatore Accardo.