I worry sometimes that Amazon knows too much about me. Like, when absent-mindedly scrolling, it serves up an absolutely deranged movie poster in my ‘suggested for you’ tab. Often, these are weird little sci-fi gems I have never ever heard of. Today, one was Dark Star, which I wrote about in my last dispatch. Next to it was Gandahar. Which I clicked play on almost immediately, on vibes alone.
Gandahar is a lot of things. It’s like if Wizards and Fantastic Planet had a baby. It is a cautionary tale about scientific meddling and fear of death. It’s an almost impenetrable time travel paradox. And it is, most importantly, one of those weird little French sci-fi cartoons that they made a lot of for a couple decades there.
Look. This movie isn’t perfect. The allegory is muddled, never quite deciding what it’s actually taking to task. The giant evil brain is terrified of its own mortality, but also science and machines are evil because??? Because that’s what happens in movies like this, mostly. The time travel stuff makes very little sense. I cannot figure out how killing the evil brain in the future saved the past but. It did. Somehow. That I do wonder if we can chalk up to a mistranslation, however. I did watch the dub, as Amazon had no subbed version available and I did not know this was a Problem (I guess they cut out a lot of the nudity) til I googled it after watching.
And yet, I find it hard to care about these things. I loved every janky little bit of it. I loved the weird mystical mutant victims of genetic experiments who live underground. I loved the oddly sexy giant brain voiced by Cristopher Plummer, and his tentacles. I loved the inexplicably topless Council Of Women. The palace that turns into a giant floating head and flies away. Just every little detail was just full of delight, whimsy, and strangeness that I just couldn’t help but love it.
Everybody has certain kinds of art they just can’t be objective about. Weird little cartoons are one of mine. Yes, all the women except the queen being topless and kind of set pieces is a little sexist! Old sci fi sexism feels almost quaint and charming in the face of The World At Large. Yes, the animation is slow and weird. This makes several things all the more compelling, including the brain’s tentacle situation. Yes, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Must a movie make sense? Can’t we just have an hour and 18 minutes of weirdness and be happy with it?
Part of it is we are in a cultural moment were sci-fi sucks a little. The movies are the reanimated corpses of corporate owned franchises, the books and short stories are on the nose riffs about classic sci-fi the authors hate and misunderstand. I’ve heard Scavengers Reign is good, and it looks like the kinda thing I’d like, but even that can’t compare to the joy of a low budget, confusing, sci-fi allegory for politics you don’t quite grasp and aren’t sure if the movie does either. Audiences expect us to explain every single detail in our speculative fiction, and cry ‘plot hole’ and ‘bad writing’ when faced with even the most clearly intentional ambiguity or deliberate strangeness. Old, weird movies are a balm against this mindset. They really remind you what you could do if you stopped listening to the audience’s voice in your head.
Should you watch this? I don’t know. I hesitate to rec this to wider audiences. If you have a high tolerance for weird French bullshit, are a lover of slightly janky animation, or just are a little too into tentacle weirdness I say go for it. If nothing I have described here, not even the underground mutants who, again, are super cool, seems appealing to you it’s skippable, but I’m also not sure I understand you on like, a personal level.
Regardless, I’m going to be thinking about this one a while. Especially that opening line: “I used to think we were innocent.” In context, he’s referring to his homeland creating the sad mutants and dumping a giant brain in the ocean, but that concept of disillusionment with the society that has bid you to save it is very rich. Gonna chew on that a while.
Signing off,
Marlowe
Marlowe Writes 