As someone who does not in the least part share the metal fetish at the core of this shocking assault on the senses — which is a nearly plotless 67 minutes of screaming post-punk body horror — I still respect its invention and energy. The underground aesthetic of Tetsuo, the Iron Man is practically perfect, for what it is, and there's no doubting that it's a bracing exploration of self-mutilation, aggresive sexual dysfunction, and a fear/desire of mechanical consummation and consumption. I assume that someone who is really into this type of material — the characters in David Cronenberg's Crash might consider it for a dinner-and-a-movie date night — won't find its relatively short runtime as monotonous as I sometimes did, but the punctuation marks in Tetsuo, the Iron Man are vivid, unique and unforgettable, whether I like it or not.
Tetsuo, the Iron Man (1989) was brought to my Potluck Film Fest by Alan Ryman. Tetsuo, the Iron Man (1989) ranked on my Flickchart at #1766 (54%).
Notes on Tetsuo, the Iron Man (1989)
I watched metal fetish underground horror opus #TetsuoTheIronMan (1989) by #ShinyaTsukamoto for my #PotLuckFilmFest https://t.co/VfpQfrW0yH https://t.co/7PM4NfHFGa