Journey Into Bliss | Chicago Reader

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This luridly perverse romp by Wenzel Storch has been likened to Peter Jackson's early work, and there are some valid points of comparison, including lots of puke, fake blood, and gooey body parts as well as intricate sets (courtesy of set designers Christine Schulz and Matthias Hanisch) that are equal parts Buck Rogers and Vegas whorehouse. But even Jackson's earliest films contained a cohesive vision and narrative drive; Storch has opted for a much more scattershot approach, creating a loopy, quasi-sci-fi mess that has something to do with a life-and-death rivalry among childhood friends, fetishism of all stripes, and time travel. If asked what this film is really about, I'd be hard-pressed to answer. In German with subtitles. 73 min.

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