The Blood of a Poet (1932)

The Criterion Collection advertises this as part of "The Orphic Trilogy," which is a little odd as (1) the next in the series came two decades later and (2) it makes no mention of Orpheus. I'm more concerned about the deception on Netflix's part: I thought that TBoaP alone would run nearly three hours, but it's less than an hour. Had I known, I'd've arranged to see it during the week. But this confusion is arguably appropriate for one of the most surreal films I've ever seen.

My only past taste of Jean Cocteau was Beauty and the Beast (1946), which, though whimsical, did nothing to prepare me. TBoaP came long before any of his other screen works. Thanks partly to being an early talkie and partly to having his avatar-protagonist interact rather little with other characters, it features exceedingly little dialogue. Possibly a little more narration.

Don't try to find a coherent narrative in this art piece. It looks a bit like Cocteau sewed a few dreams together. To give you an idea of what you're in for, it basically starts with a painter whose portrait of a woman starts moving its lips as if to speak. He wipes the mouth off with his bare hand -- and then sees the mouth still moving on his palm. (The position of the opening reminded me of the reputed stigmata of Jesus, which may or may not be intentional on Cocteau's part.) I guess the effects were state-of-the-art back then.

The clearest message is that artists, whether "poets" or not, must practice self-sacrifice (i.e., suffer) for their art. While this point gets stated almost directly in time, it can get bogged down by claims seemingly inapplicable to real life, such as that if you destroy statues, you risk becoming a statue. I guess philistines are culturally stagnant, but that metaphor is a stretch. At any rate, you probably won't take away a lesson you haven't heard many times.

I don't have a lot of patience for the pretentiousness of art films, and this one, despite shortness, moves pretty slowly. Nevertheless, I don't regret the rental. It's pretty entertaining in a dreamy, old-fashioned way. I just won't bother with Orpheus or Testament of Orpheus.

If you want to take it seriously, you can read Cocteau's essay on the DVD. It didn't address all my questions, though.