When Minds are Blown #3

In 2001 - a particularly great year for cinema, for festivals, and for me as an audience member - I saw a handful of movies that blew my mind. I thought that I had reached some kind of zenith and that, forever after, I would be on a slow downward slide of disappointment. Turns out that it was partially true (really, 2001 was a great year for cinema going for me). That is, until Fatih Akin's Head On. I love this film. I love everything about it. It is flawed, of course, but it has more essentially human experiences coursing through the first five minutes than a decade of the films surrounding it.

I also, being partial to a drink, love a film that doesn't shy away from the the messy extremes of self destruction. I also, being partial to love, love a film that doesn't shy away from the messy extremes of romance, of falling in love, of sex, jealousy and obsession. I also, being partial to music, love a film that doesn't shy away from the life or death relationship that many of us have with the songs that make our lives worth living. This is a violent, messy, destructive madness of an experience, and it is tender, vulnerable and as romantic as a film can be. I love it.