The Triumph of the Passion

Last night I watched The Triumph of the Will and The Passion of the Jew back to back. The F-word was quite excited about The Triumph of the Will, pointing out its influences on modern propoganda and how undated that made it - how its tricks had been exploited - and also how people in the German backwaters must have felt when they saw it in the cinema, how they'd just be so impressed by the movement and decide to join it.

I wondered how many of the people in it were dead ten years later and wondered how many of the people in the crowd scenes had just showed up to all those parades because television hadn't been invented yet and there was nothing else on that day. Mostly I wanted it to end. Maybe I have no attention span, but not even Leni's loving, lingering shots of hot genetically pure men could keep me interested in all the hours and hours of Nazis and towns and banners and blah blah blah. I don't know what all the fuss is about, unless it's to get old twats back into The Guardian.

Obviously, The Passion of the Jew was much, much, much better. I think the F-word enjoyed it more because the poor bastard has actually had to sit through The Passion when someone he was visiting rented it, but for myself I don't know when I've laughed so hard.