Call It Heavy Metal Noise

If your favourite movie doesn't open with a spaceman driving a muscle car in space you are gay.

Heavy Metal is the best van art kino. If I had a van it would look like Heavy Metal, which would make me unemployable, but that's OK because van ownership lends itself to serial killing anyway, and I would rather be a serial killer than a wagecuck, and more productive.

Based Robby the Robot working the hot dog stand.

Heavy Metal isn't a movie like Captain America Infinity War is a movie. That is to say it isn't flavourless corporate crap promoted on the basis of, and meaningless without, a context situated in an interminable continuity that rewards its developmentally stunted audience with canned water cooler topics. It's a throwback to an era when a movie wasn't a soulless cartographic exercise in world building for r*dditlords. It's not a "universe", but an experience.

There aren't enough ziggurats in everyday life.

It's an anthology of vignettes animated by different units, giving it an ever changing but somehow consistent visual sensibility which is loosely tied together by an aptly ever changing glowing green sphere called the Loc Nar, which serves as narrator and primary antagonist. It's a coveted object that seems to influence people toward evil, reminiscent of Tolkien's Ring, which serves to remind you young faggots that decades before Lord of the Rings was franchise fodder to be raped and cannibalised by Hollywood studios (The Hobbit Cinematic Universe Trilogy Now In 48 Frames Per Second), it was a counterculture stoner classic and inspiration for metal bands whose members had sex (not black metal).

The sum of all evil bullies a young girl for the lulz.

Halloween goals.

The greatest and best segment is heavily inspired by Moebius's Arzach strips, and stars a mute albino waifu riding a big pterodactyl bird across a desert landscape. Arzach should have been the basis for the future of comics instead of Marvel and DC because it explicitly rejects "universe" and continuity tedium for dreamlike imagery and free association. The only decent comic book movies after Heavy Metal were Tim Burton's Batmankinos because they were largely surrealistic and free-associative, but with a German Expressionist aesthetic instead of the more ineffable imagery of Heavy Metal. Everything else has been terminal cancer.

Absolutely a   e   s   t   h   e   t   i   c

Taarna fights the warlord in single combat even though his entire army is just standing there, and thereby defeats the Loc Nar somehow I guess. While this would seem like inexcusable narrative incongruence to a typical subhuman 2018 Cinemasins viewer, in the context of a fever dream like Heavy Metal it makes perfect sense, because sense exists in a state of relativity to the exoticism and superreality of the art, something 2018 mouthbreathers will never understand.

Based Taarna has zero tolerance for the {{{green}}} menace.

Heavy Metal also features two of the great bastards of cinema: Harry Canyon, a cynical, amoral future noir cab driver and occasional carjacker-disintegrator, and STERNN, based criminal Chad mastermind who's got an annngle.

When you have a chin like that you can park anywhere you want.

The first time I watched this kino I thought it was just OK, but now I love it, because in a world of long hours, dumb politics and constant disappointment (Britain), we need psychedelic adolescent escapism with arthouse characteristics more than ever.