Jean Cocteau Collection

Wow. Images, images, images. Every scene in Jean Cocteau's Sang d'un Poete is a little work of art. He tries every possible way of provoking a reaction, from harnessed children being whipped til they fly, to oiled-up and shining black guardian angels with sculpted wings. All the more astonishing considering the conventions of the time - 1930 is only three years after the first 'talkie'. The opening story consists of a painter whose painting's mouth comes to life. He wipes off the mouth and washes his hands, only to be confronted by a drowned mouth spewing water from his palm. The physicality put into the trick photography is beautiful, and the artist climbing and splashing through the looking glass into the 'Hotel of dramatic lunacies' is one of the classiest things ever. There is so much passion, curiosity, experimentation and imagination in this film, it's magic.

Testament d'Orphée is inherently ridiculous, but it ain't without its charms. Jean Cocteau purses his lips and minces his way through a labyrinth of dreamy encounters with semi-mythological figures and characters from previous films, engaging in discourses about time, fame and art as he goes. Why he's there in the first place isn't exactly clear, but hey, it doesn't need to be. This is surrealism, with healthy doses of egotism and homoeroticism besides. Cocteau's final film is charmingly bonkers. He seems to be having one last blast at out-intellectualising everyone: one honking great existential pissing contest. And there are some lovely ideas, in particular the autograph-eating idol which makes anyone famous in a couple of minutes. Also, cameos from Yul Brynner and Pablo Picasso made me wonder who else I might have recognised if I were up on my French 50s elite. However, all the backwards/forwards filming and Rentaghost-stylee disappearances might have been modern in 1959 but all seem really naïve and quite sniggerable now. Pretentious and silly but surprisingly enjoyable. [Cara McGuigan]