
This is what Sting looked like in David Lynch's "Dune".
   
   
               Alejandro          Jodorowsky was active as a film director in the 60s and 70s,  following a          career as an actor and director of experimental theatre and  happenings.      
   
      Jodorowsky’s 1970 film El Topo  was a surreal  blend of          the Wild West and eastern philosophy. Sort of Luis Bunuel meets  Sergio          Leone with a touch of Kenneth Anger and performance art thrown  in:          nudity, amputees, dead animals, lots of blood, spiritual  philosophy and          psychedelia. It was packaged and promoted as “midnight movie  cult          cinema” in the Elgin Cinema, New York, relying on  word-of-mouth          recommendation among Chelsea hipsters. And so, they say, it  helped          establish an “outsider” genre of films based on a culture of  late-night          screenings, reviving interest in neglected filmmakers like Tod  Browning          and Ed Wood, and providing an audience for new film makers like  David          Lynch and John Waters. Critic Ben Cobb writes that after  enthusiastic          recommendation by John Lennon , “El Topo screenings took the  form of          a drug-fuelled happening. People went to be mentally altered by  the          film, spiritually enriched or, at the very least, have an  experience.”         
John Lennon’s manager Allen Klein saw potential in Jodorowksy’s brand of druggy-exploitation cinema, bought the rights to El Topo and put the money up for his next film The Holy Mountain (picture below). Klein screened El Topo in a Broadway cinema, which immediately blew its credibility as far as its cultish audience was concerned. Having learned a marketing lesson, screenings of The Holy Mountain were limited to midnight slots on Fridays and Saturdays where they attracted a sizeable cult following for a remarkable 16 months.
         
   
      Jodorowsky and Klein fell out over a new exploitation film  project they          were discussing. According to Jodorowsky “I weighed up my  artistic          integrity against fame and wealth. After a torturous half-hour, I           reached my decision.” Allan Klein was furious and did his  best to          make sure that El Topo and The Holy Mountain were never  screened, while          Jodorowsky did his best to encourage the spread of  bootlegs of the two          films. There were legal battles until 2004 when some sort of          reconciliation was reached and the films are now widely  available on          DVD.
Jodorowsky went on to make the exploitation film “Santa Sangre”, but seems to have been mostly occupied with a writing career, books on psychology and the tarot as well as the sort of adult graphic novels that are popular in France.
         Jodorosky’s          films El Topo and The Holy Mountain contain some of the most  striking          and strange sequences in modern cinema. They are masterpieces of           grandiose self-indulgence, and have been a big influence on the  likes of          Matthew Barney. Their bizarre scenes and ritualized narrative  structures          are the sort of thing you grow accustomed to if you’re familiar  with          avant-garde and outsider art, but never with this kind of  budget. 
What is puzzling, then, is how these films ever got made. The extras on Jodorowsky's DVD collections show him at work doing tarot readings and conducting seminars on “Psychomagic: The Transformative Power of Shamanic Psychotherapy” (the title of his latest book). What becomes clear is that the guy is very persuasive and has great manipulative skills. The people with the money must have been suckers for that kind of scam back in the day...
Alejandro Jodorowsky's 'Dune: An Exhibition of a Film of a Book That Never Was was at Plymouth Arts Centre 2 April – 16 May 2010. Curated by Tom Morton. See review by Nigel Ayers.
for art cornwall
http://www.artcornwall.org/features/Films_of_Jodorowsky.htm
Alejandro Jodorowsky's          'Dune: An exhibition of a film of a book that never was
 
     Plymouth Arts Centre 2 April – 16 May 2010
 
      
 
              Dune  is a weighty Science Fiction novel written by Frank Herbert          and published in 1965. The cover blurb by Arthur C. Clarke says  its “unique          among SF novels. I know nothing comparable to it except The Lord  of the               Rings”.
There have been several attempts  made to film the book, and the rights          to it have passed through several hands. It has  been the  subject of a TV mini-series,          and  a new cinema version is currently being planned, to be  directed by          action specialist Pierre Morel.
 
     1984 saw David Lynch's version of the book. Lynch's Dune was          not well-received by critics and performed poorly at the  American box          office. Lynch distanced himself from the project, stating that          pressure from both producers and financiers restrained his  artistic          control and denied him final cut                  privilege. 
In some versions of the film  Lynch's name is replaced in          the credits with the name of a fictional director                  Alan Smithee: a pseudonym used  by directors who wish to be          disassociated from films they have worked on. In fact, like a  lot of bad          sci-fi, David Lynch’s Dune retains a fairly large cult  following.
 
     Before Lynch, in 1976, Alejandro Jodorowsky was given the job of  directing the film. He          gathered around him a group of collaborators including the Swiss           artist HR Giger, who later designed the movie Alien, the French  graphic          novel artist Moebius, and English sci-fi artist Chris Foss. Pink  Floyd were          to provide the soundtrack and the proposed cast was to feature  Orson          Welles, Mick Jagger, David Carradine and Salvador Dali. Dali was  to play          the Emperor of the Universe who ruled from a golden  toilet-cum-throne in          the shape of two intertwined dophins, their mouths designed to  receive,          respectively, urine and excrement: “Dali considers         it very bad taste to mix piss and shit”. 
But Jodorowsky never got the  finance and the project was abandoned. All          that survives are the director's notes and production drawings  by Giger,          Moebius and Foss.
 
              Jodorowksy  has written about his adventures in film-making as a process          of spiritual discovery and has said film-making should be a way  of          losing money, not making it. “Contemporary art” tends to be all  about          about         price tags and status, so I was interested to see the  interpretation of          this material by the contemporary artists in this touring show. I  hoped for something          over-the-top and mystically bonkers.
 
     In the downstairs room there’s a chrome head with raffia hair  and          bulging eyeballs. This is a Steven Claydon piece. The chromed  metal          looks like it may have once been a colander and yes, it could  easily be          a portrait of the young Jodorowsky strung out on amphetamine...
 
     On the opposite wall is a portrait print also by Claydon. It’s  not          Jodorowsky. Perhaps this is a portrait of Frank Herbert? I look  at the          label and find it’s a portrait of Somerset Maugham. I wonder  what  Somerset          Maugham has got to do with  the film that never was? Tom  Morton's          notes say it may “be read as a stand-in for the Emperor  Shadam IV (Maugham’s          stately pleasure dome Villa Mauresque recalls the Emperor’s  golden          planet)”. So, it’s not Emperor Shadam IV, it’s not the  Emperor’s golden          planet, it’s a portrait of an author who once wrote a book with a  scene          in it that was similar to a scene in Dune. So this is the  Portrait         of the Author of a Book That Contains a Scene In It That is  Similar to a          Scene in The Book...
 
              Vidya         Gastaldon's paintings are small, pleasant watercolours with  pieces of          Herbert's text written on them. They're a bit like William  Blake's in          style, only William Blake put a bit more effort in. Blake would  have          also used his own secret method of printing and his own text,  whereas          Gastaldon 'has used Herbert's novel as an i-Ching-like          instrument of divination, flicking through the pages at random  and then          making an image based on the first line her eyes alight on'.  So she hasn't actually read  Dune,  she's just skimmed though it a          bit? I love the way  contemporary artists cut corners!
 
     Upstairs there are materials actually related to Jodorowsky's  Dune          project: a set of nice big illustrations by both Giger and Foss  and          loads of magazine clippings about the  project.
 
     On the top floor, in the exhibition space, there's Day Jackson's  piece.          His human skull morphing into platonic solids seems to be in a          Jodorowsky groove, and there's a load of science fiction comics  on loan          from a local shop, and some reading matter on the subject of  science          fiction illustration.
 
              Curator  Tom Morton writes that the remains of Jodorowksy's Dune project:          “reveal a potential future for sci-fi movie making that  eschewed the          conservative, technology-based approach of American filmmakers  in favour          of something closer to a metaphysical fever-dream...In 1977,  George          Lucas' Star Wars was released and the history of sci-fi  filmmaking and          even mainstream cinema, would never be the same again”
 
     I'm not so sure that the sci-fi movie genre and mainstream  cinema has          become so much technology-based as  effects-based in its  approach, and          that beneath this layer of sensationalism its underlying ethos  is to re-inforce          the fears and insecurities that drive the modern  hyper-capitalist          economies.         There seems instead in Jodorowsky's sacrificial film-making an  attempt          to blow apart those insecurities and enter into something akin  to          personal freedom and autonomy, using film as an uninhibited  process of          spiritual discovery, rather than a means to make money for  corporations.
 
     But then the guy is so obviously barmy that it's hard to tell.
                                         
     Nigel Ayers 27/4/10
photos by Lesley Ayers