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Kobayashi & his DoP (Yoshio Miyajima) treat each frame as though it were a painter’s canvas, delicately building layer upon layer of light, shadow, colour, texture. One can visualise them taking a step back to admire the separate pieces, before painstakingly gluing them together.
Few films leave a mark like Rollin’s macabre, melancholic tone poem about youth, eroticism, and the uncertainty of the afterlife. With an ambience of encroaching dread and images that stay burned in your brain long afterward, it’s an enveloping work of mystical, esoteric genius.