Worthwhile. Lots of edited together bits and pieces, great narrative vision and atmosphere, and a story worth telling. I’d wanted to see this at the cinema but never found the time.

Vibrant, intense, alive, and tough too. I’m very much blessed with a supportive and easygoing family and background, but J.C.’s story is a lot grittier. It sparkles a bit more too, though.

The schtick about this film is that it was put together on iFilm. That’s great, and perhaps it explains the editing style, which is, I think, the most skilful aspect of the film, along with the narrative conceptualisation- of course, they’re really part of the same whole- but the editing is very far in the forefront, very much the area of control whereas camera, lighting and the available material aren’t really part of an intended effect, though they do produce a particular aesthetic.

It did make me wonder about doing likewise, though I haven’t made a film since a lighthearted 90-second effort about losing stuff called Personal Effects, which up and died after its first rejection. Cauoette is clearly made of more determined stuff. Excellent and unique.

But that’s good. Still gnomically conjuring those frisbee-on-the-substation feelings; half nostalgia, half paranoia. The new stuff sees them reaching for guitar textures on top of the usual library and knob-twiddlin’ sounds. Improves with added listening. At first seemed a bit shallower than previous offerings, but is really more subtle.
Don’t know if I buy all the mathematical-structures-are-they-satanic-paul-is-dead bit, but they make smashing records.

‘His prose is perfect, his sentiments gloriously politically incorrect… The most dedicated feminist, protestant or prig would hesitate before criticising Low Life since even they must realise that his style puts him beyond censure. An enviable but will-deserved position—since he is incapable of cant, and that is why he is unique.” Alice Thomas Ellis

Rereading my hero’s works, watching him pitch and roll with the punches, swooping from rich absurdity to the bitterest wit to grand gestures of self-effacement and always in glorious, redeeming style.