You are cordially invited to attend "La Societé des Amis de Judex"
on the night of Saturday 29th October, from 8.00pm onwards at
Unit 303, Third Floor,
Lana House, 116 Commercial
Street, London E1 6NF.
526 Manhattan Building,
London, E3 2UP.
Mark Aerial Waller's Wayward Canon presents:
"La Societé des Amis de Judex"
Mark Aerial Waller founded The Wayward Canon to develop new critical engagements with cinema and its modes of
presentation. Tonight's event
"La Societé des Amis de Judex" (The Society of Friends of
Judex), the 15th Wayward Canon to date,
is an invitation to enter the field of cinematic time shifts over the course of a night in the company of the international Friends
of Judex. The Society of Friends of Judex show their hit movie serial of
1916, Judex. This is the story of a disguised vigilante in a rural
terrain of Surrealist in quietude, where good and evil lurk with seemingly equal
menace. The Surrealist poems of Apollinaire and Batman's Riddler
refract the movie through the Friend's intellectual Kaleidoscopic vision.
Uh Huh, We're doing this event at ®edux?
-What, that place below the neon shop?
right! No! Not that place!
This is opposite the pub where Sandra works.
-I don't know Sandra!
It's about giving a bad name back to Surrealism.
-I thought Surrealism already has a bad name?
Oh? It's about that old film,
Judex, and fights on Batman angles, where the Riddler joins up with
Apollinaire to gas the dynamic duo. Time shifts,
detours, uncanny objects, sublime horror:
1916 military mutiny meets 1966 Caped Crusader.
Everything around us may be sold to the banks, human rights reduced to overdraft
limits, cardboard hotels under black mollusc bridges.
Arghh! Here come the horses. I can hear their hooves clattering
on the cobbles, returning Judex to the law courts, back from the
Judex appeared. He, or may I say,
it moved forward through the crowd, straight as an arrow through an apple
core, slowed down a thousand times, science like.
SEX-ME! She screamed,
holding his beautiful white dead dove flat out on palm.
Georges had kissed that dove, held it close and felt its pittapat heart thumping through
his fingertips. It was softer than those heavy cold cameras,
their gunmetal grey was violating the wake. Judex halted,
turned to us all, ignited some phosphor, it bleached everything
for a moment, then faded into my retina, like afterburn from too
So, sick and giddy we continue to watch, expecting
re-animation of the dead.
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