The protagonist, poet Michael McClure, emerges from the all-reflection imagery of glass shop and car windows, bottles, mirrors etc in scenes which are also accurate portraits of both McClure and the City of San Francisco in 1957. At the same time it is a lyrical and mystical film, building to a crescendo of rhythmically intercut shots of McClure’s face, seemingly trapped on the glazed surface of the city. Music by William Moraldo. I don’t think of this as an ‘early film’ anymore, since it never came together until ’78. Now it’s tight.
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