"Holy Mountain"...

It will cause me to blush to admit it, but yes, I do consider myself to be somewhat of an expert on the topic of mind-blowing psychedelic films from the swirly 60's and 70's. Which is why last night's Cinespia cemetery screening of Alejandro Jodorowsky's "Holy Mountain," the long-unavailable-and-100,000-light-years-beyond-trippy-made-with-John Lennon's-hard-earned-Beatle-cash classic was such a treat. I thought I'd seen it already, but I was confusing it with Jodorowsky's equally kaleidoscopic, but less enjoyable "El Topo." "Holy Mountain" is an astounding and ecstatic achievement, and perhaps the most independent film ever made, at least in terms of handing a director a seemingly unlimited budget to persue his most far out and unscripted visions. Yes indeed, the film is really a steaming pile of sausage-linked turd-dreams, but if you can't put the overblown gestures and serious silliness of that era in perspective by now, well it's really your problem not the film's. Some of you will know "Santa Sangre" as Jodorowsky's best known film, and it's a fine place to start getting to know him. But really, if and when "Holy Mountain" comes out on DVD, I would recommend you dust off your paisley dashiki, make yourself a bed of peacock feathers, drop some purple peyote beads, have lots of nude girls standing around, and let the film do the talking.