DbcultAccessing Vault...
5.4/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 5.4/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. The Camera Speaks remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
If you like movies that feel like walking through a drafty attic at 3 AM, maybe. If you need a plot that moves faster than a tectonic plate, stay far, far away.
People who get a kick out of old, scratchy film stock will be in heaven. Everyone else? You’ll probably be checking your phone after ten minutes. 😴
Leo Donnelly carries the whole thing, and he looks like he hasn't slept since the invention of the talkies. He’s the night watchman, just shuffling around the Vitagram studio while the shadows do most of the acting. There’s this one shot of him just staring at a lens cap that lasts for an eternity. I think the camera operator got bored, too.
It’s not as energetic as Flying Fists, that’s for sure. It feels like the director wanted to make a poem but ended up making a nap. There’s a lot of silence. Like, really a lot.
The transition between his nap and the dream world is so blurry I wasn't sure if the projector broke or if it was an artistic choice. Probably both.
There is this moment—I won't call it a climax, because that implies energy—where the camera starts to, well, speak. Or at least it hums a lot. It reminded me a bit of the weird, disjointed pacing in His Last False Step, but with more sadness and less running around.
It’s not trying to be a blockbuster. It’s not trying to explain itself. It just sits there, like an old dog on a porch. 🐕
Honestly, it’s a weird little relic. I don’t think I’d watch it again, but I’m weirdly glad it exists. It’s definitely more interesting than sitting through Insurance, though that's not saying much.
Don't look for a lesson. Don't look for a grand conclusion. Just watch the dust motes dance in the light and let it be. Or don't. Who am I to tell you what to do with your Saturday?