“One ought not even touch a being like that.”
—The Song of Bernadette
he secret title of this valediction is, “Watching a bootleg rip of a Blu-ray of Ken Jacobs’ 1963 with the subtitles on.” (The very prospect sounds like science fiction to these aging ears, yet here we are.) It’s a typically short scribble, a polluted dream of purity, this time about the greatest nunsploitation, “Jacobs insists upon the idea of a film as a dying organism throughout his works. breaks down before it can get started.” Sounds like a plan: let’s call the whole thing off.
