Don Levy’s ‘Herostratus’.

Well THAT was exhausting!

Don Levy’s ‘Herostratus’ (1967) is a very depressing movie, albeit one with extraordinary explosive bursts of brilliance that sometimes vie with the overall experience of watching it, which I found unforgettably exhausting. I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or not.

‘Herostratus’ tells the story of an angry young poet who decides to commit suicide by jumping off a tall building. This inspires in him one last artistic notion — he will hire a marketing company to turn his death into an event. And that’s pretty much it plot-wise.

Yet this is no free-wheeling, slap-dash, piece of 60’s spontaneity but, instead, an intricately worked-out and precisely crafted film that attacks complex issues head-on with zero compromise, both philosophically and artistically. There is a hell of a lot going here on and below the surface and it demands patience… and that patience will be tried.

This can make ‘Herostratus’ a tough watch and for a few reasons other than the heavy-lifting it asks of the viewer. Not only would accusations of it being “pretentious” be accurate (at times) but the film is almost two and a half hours long so that’s a lot of art-house movie to sit through. And it’s heavy stuff that’s going on here as this young man takes a dive into all the crap we tend to spend our time avoiding — mainly death, decay and mortality and how society covers the painful sides of existence up.

For example: the film bombards us with the corruption of advertising, brutalist architecture, the clear influence of the body distortions of Francis Bacon and coiling muscles writhing under the flesh of a tortured back in emotional pain, a B.S. Johnson-esque unflinching look at death and mortality, footage of concentration camps and a pontificating Hitler etc, and that’s only part of it. There are also some extremely graphic shots of animals being slaughtered plus some Allen Ginsberg poetry to contend with. This is a list of ingredients that doesn’t make for the nicest taste.

It’s not all cerebral bleakness (although it mainly is that) as there is beauty here with some astonishing shots of London that both alienate and captivate as well as tracking shots and sequences of editing and montage that have as much technical rigour as intellectual depth. The passionate cry of anger and the energy with which this film is howled onto the screen also can’t be denied and every time I felt the film losing me it would do something that would immediately pull me back in.

A very interesting watch even if I found it a little too long, too obscure and too relentless at times. And no, Helen Mirrens’ sexy dance doesn’t help. But I guess we all, occasionally, need a challenge.