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One of those rare films that have to be not enjoyed so much as marvelled at for their ferocity of spirit, their weirdness inside uncertainty, their almost impossible lack of a safety of expression.
A Field in England
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Intrinsically, romantically, Freudian like all poetry, especially my own. I know when my poetry is honest, it peals in hums of Freudian darkness and Jungian light, just like The Bell.