User Reviews

Ken Jacobs is an experimental filmmaker and theory teacher who is still making movies to this day. He was an art teacher to the monumentally influential Art Spiegelman and is sometimes credited for coining the term "paracinema" – though that changes depending on your source. Whether he invented the term or not, paracinema seems to be the wheelhouse in which Jacobs lives. It is a word that literally stands for any type of film that is outside the conventional genres in filmmaking. In Jacobs' personal favorite genre, experimental avant-garde, paracinema also means any film made without the standard equipment of the film medium. If this essay-like opening paragraph is boring you, I guarantee the subject matter of Ken Jacobs' 1963 Blonde Cobra will lighten the mood.

I almost feel strange referring to Blonde Cobra as an actual movie as opposed to a home video of two perverts talking about penises. See, I told you it would pick-up. It is set in a cramped apartment and shot with a single camera in grainy and unpleasant looking black and white. It "stars" a fellow experimental filmmaker, Jack Smith (Flaming Creatures), as himself in silly costumes while holding icky looking props. The motives for the movie are almost impossible to figure out. If I had to guess, I would say that these are two bored, eccentric homosexual filmmakers in the early 60s who are doing nothing more than looking for a way to torment the suits. There does not seem to be a point to anything in the film, rather Jacobs fills the half an hour runtime with controversial and offensive voiceovers behind strange images or completely blank screens.

There is no secular narrative presented in the film. Instead, Jacobs split his work into three short vignettes featuring Smith as different characters usually in drag or some other goofy costume. The first short in the film has Smith dressed in the manner of a fortuneteller and displays the behavior of someone with an intense oral fixation. This dialogue-less action includes Smith licking raw poultry and features a voice-over that describes cases of sexual molestation to children and necrophilia. The best I can do is say I THINK that is what they're talking about, but it is almost impossible to understand what they are saying. Most of these stories, including one particular moment in which Smith describes a female's use of religious statues for masturbation, are said over a blank, black screen. You'd think that a visual break from the action would be kinda nice, but the narration might even be more graphic. It is certainly more offensive.

The next "scene" has Smith and another man dressed as 1920s-esque gangsters as they dance to what sounds like (but don't quote me on it) the Ginger Rodgers and Fred Astaire version of "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off". I would think that this scene holds the key to Blonde Cobra even being on this list of films. Pop music in film was a brand new concept in the 1960s. And though many credit The Graduate for the use of a pop music soundtrack, Jacobs and Smith were using recordings in their films as early as 1957. Jacobs'Blonde Cobra, Smith's Flaming Creatures and, of course, Anger's Scorpio Rising were all released between 1963-64 and unknowingly serve as the first examples of unlicensed music in film.

And then, after all of that excitement, there is another vignette. This time we have Smith dressed as an explorer of some kind. He and another man rub themselves on all sorts of different apartment props. Smith can be heard saying that sex is "a pain in the ass". Other than that, nothing really happens.

Maybe the most famous line in the film is said in the first act. Mid-sentence, Smith stops and turns to the camera. With a completely serious demeanor you can hear him say – "I don't know if this makes sense to you". I can assure you that the film does not make any sense at all. Not in the way that a surrealist like Buñuel doesn't make sense, but more in the way that a sleep deprived, gay crack-addict probably doesn't make sense. I eventually came to realize that looking for a motive or a point in Blonde Cobra is an exercise in futility. The film is pointless.

It would be wrong to say that Blonde Cobra has absolutely no cultural importance. Jacobs and Smith are both very famous in the gay, New York underground film scene. Somebody somewhere likes this stuff. And like Tarantino makes movies for a niche of people – these men made their films for a much smaller sample of the same thing. If you are not part of the particular audience – Blonde Cobra will mean nothing to you. Honestly, it's a piece of crap.

...specifically the author of "1001 Movies to See Before You Die" on those who read his book.

I watched this short film because it's one of the 1001 Movies to See Before You Die. Now, I don't expect to like all of them, or to agree that they should be on a list such as this. But even if I don't like a title in that book, I can almost always see some reason or another that someone would list it. It was ground-breaking technically. It was important to a certain nation or culture's cinematic evolution. It features previously-taboo subject matter or imagery. But not this time.

The film consists of bits and pieces of film, some in color but most in black & white, without sound. The audio track is made up of old song bits, avant-garde music pieces, random noises, or most often the puerile ramblings of the film's subject, Jack Smith. Smith was apparently quite a character among the underground NYC art scene of the 50's and 60's. So this film is meant as a piecemeal portrait/homage to Smith. Most of his "stories" are heard on the soundtrack during long stretches of black screen. The bits of old film seem to be outtakes of a silly home-movie of some sort, mostly of Smith in mock drag and fondling a chicken carcass. Seriously.

After watching the film, I read the entry in the 1001 book to try and glean why this would be included, but it doesn't really explain why. Reading on imdb, I first find that this film has the lowest aggregate score of any film listed in the 1001 book, a 3.2/10. Some people feel it's a cruel joke played by the book's authors on a gullible readership. Others that defend the film (there were a few) seem to say that audiences shouldn't expect anything, and just take this as an abstract work of art, with as much or as little meaning as you can read into it.

To me, it's the very worst kind of arthouse junk, the kind that gives art films a bad name and scares away the general public from trying anything new..

It's available on YouTube, and it's only 32 minutes long. It's a looong 32 minutes, though. And be warned: he uses some foul language in his "stories" and and there's a tiny bit of nudity near the end (pun intended).

A classic of independent experimental '60's cinema, filmed in grainy black and white, with no cohesive narrative. The characters portray psychotic symptoms in their actions, all of which take place within a small filthy apartment, with a bizarre and frightening voice over. The film is disjointed, with extended periods of black screen and voice over only. Fans of the experimental and the avante-garde will feel compelled to watch.

Although the main credit call it "A philm by Bobby Fleischner" - and it's drawn from footage originally shot by Jack Smith - 'Blonde Cobra' is generally considered the work of Ken Jacobs who actually put the film together.

Described by Jonas Mekas as "the masterpiece of Baudelairean cinema" and by Sheldon Renan in 'An Introduction to the Underground Film' (1967) as "horrendous", the exotic title and the highly censorable content rather belies the prosaic handling, consisting largely of Jack Smith cavorting and pulling faces, interspersed with long stretches of black leader, while on the soundtrack Smith regales us with a stream of prurient non-sequiturs in an adenoidal voice; and when we do get visuals they're usually accompanied by hiss.

What we now see as "Blonde Cobra" actually began as two films being made simultaneously in 1959-60, shot and directed by Bob Fleischner and starring Jack Smith. These projects have been described as "horror- comedy" and were short circuited by an accident that destroyed the raw film stock set aside to complete them. Fleischner later handed the remaining footage over to Ken Jacobs to see if Jacobs could do anything with it. Jacobs recorded Smith improvising monologues on tape and stretched the film with black leader in order to let Smith's recorded ramblings run their course. In a sense, the soundtrack is one of the most innovative aspects of "Blonde Cobra," with its mixture of radio news, old 78s, records played at the wrong speed and Smith's wild commentary. This was further accented by the use of a live radio at certain points in screenings of "Blonde Cobra" that is totally lost when the film is seen on the web. That "Blonde Cobra" took so long to finish diluted its impact somewhat, as by the time it was finally shown, "Flaming Creatures" and other, similar films were already playing in New York.

P. Adams Sitney in the first edition of "Visionary Film" and some others wrote in glowing terms about "Blonde Cobra" and it is true that repeated viewings of the subject can reveal different interpretations of what it may mean; it is very friendly to intellectual analysis as it is an intellectual film, albeit one that on the surface does not seem very seriously intended. Fleischner's footage is part horror movie and part home movie, and the narration provided by Smith is a mixture of sad childhood memories and fantastic sexual routines that take the project into an entirely different direction. Smith felt that Jacobs had made it "too dark" -- although separately he thanked Jacobs for completing it -- but the material as Jacobs received it comes from a very dark and tragic place, an aesthetic of boredom, decline and a longing to get back things that cannot be had among a group of impoverished young people who completely reject conventional morality, or even what is perceived as reality.

While some of the early writers on "Blonde Cobra" seem to overstate its case a bit -- it is not a masterpiece in the class of "Flaming Creatures" or Jacobs' "Star Spangled to Death" -- a fair amount of the web-based writing about it takes the opposite tack, condemning the film as unwatchable, uncomfortable, boring; a case of the emperor having no clothes. Look, there's no "emperor" here; Jacobs, Fleischner and Smith were not looking to entertain you or to fulfill your expectations as to what may constitute a movie in a basic sense. These filmmakers had no interest whatsoever in making commercial motion pictures or participating the in same game, with its rules, awards and criteria, as other kinds of movies. They were living a different kind of life from the rest of people around 1960 and looking for a way, in film, to express it. And despite being an outsider to this world, Jacobs found, in a structural sense, a new kind of film language to express it in, an approach that bypassed the usual relation of shots to slates to rushes to editing in favor of a kind of loose assemblage more akin to documentary film making. "Blonde Cobra" is what it is, and it isn't out there to impress you, though if you watch it more than once you have a better chance of "getting it" than if you struggle to the end of it, one time, or abandon it midway.