"We were outcasts of our own micro-society" observes the doomed protagonist of Barbet Schroeder's 1969 cult curio. Specifically, he's talking about being a junkie, during an era when hash and LSD were considered more conducive to peace and love. But he could also be talking about More itself.
Pink Floyd aficionados may know it, if at all, for the band's soundtrack (even then, the film manages to misspell Dave Gilmour's name); but compared with classic head fare like Easy Rider or Performance, More is something of a bejewelled footnote.
Says Schroeder, it's "less a story of its time, more a timeless tragedy", and this contemporary staging of the Icarus myth is indeed an eternal tale of crash and burn. And yet this fascinating document positively reeks of the late-1960s from every pore. Exquisitely photographed (on location in Ibiza), and seductive and patience-testing by turns, it's a trip alright, but a smarter and more sober one than you'd expect.
Pink Floyd aficionados may know it, if at all, for the band's soundtrack (even then, the film manages to misspell Dave Gilmour's name); but compared with classic head fare like Easy Rider or Performance, More is something of a bejewelled footnote.
Says Schroeder, it's "less a story of its time, more a timeless tragedy", and this contemporary staging of the Icarus myth is indeed an eternal tale of crash and burn. And yet this fascinating document positively reeks of the late-1960s from every pore. Exquisitely photographed (on location in Ibiza), and seductive and patience-testing by turns, it's a trip alright, but a smarter and more sober one than you'd expect.