PRODUCT INFORMATION
Street Date 1/28/25
All pre-orders will be shipped as soon as they are in stock. Sometimes this is 1-2 weeks early, sometimes this might be a few days after the street date.
If other in-stock items are ordered at the same time, all items will ship together. If you want your in-stock items shipped immediately, please place pre-orders separately.
All dates, artwork and features are subject to change.
Pre-orders will be charged when you place the order.
No cancellations on pre-orders.
On a shortlist with Eiichi Yamamoto’s BELLADONNA OF SADNESS and René Laloux’s FANTASTIC PLANET as one of the most surreal, psychedelic and truly cosmic animated features ever made, German director Helmut Herbst’s utterly insane THE CATHEDRAL OF NEW EMOTIONS follows a commune of Berlin stoners and intellectuals who get set adrift in space in 1972 in a packing container clutched in a giant flying hand. Various space flotsam smashes into the windshield – enormous insects, Mighty Mouse, a Bird Man from “Flash Gordon” – while hypnotic Krautrock drones in the background moaning “Where am I??”, and a naked man bounces up and down off a massive red pepper. So begins our descent down the psychotic rabbit hole of CATHEDRAL, a true hallucinogenic Space Freakout if there ever was one: imagine Ralph Bakshi animating an R-rated version of John Carpenter’s DARK STAR, or the cartoon equivalent of Can’s “Ege Bamyasi” or Pink Floyd’s “Astronomy Domine.” In other words: set the controls for the heart of the sun. Narrated by the ship’s doctor Quistard in the same synthesized voice everyone uses, the crew includes the female commander Bakunskaja with long gray hair and a pink hippie frock; lizard-tongued head of security Dierksen; and James and Jones, a pair of redheaded and often bare-breasted twins. The crew spend their days staring into the pulsating light of the fusion reactor wondering about the outcome of the Vietnam War, or bemoaning their sexual inertia: “Do you know what an erotically stale situation is? … Eternal lust and unspeakable horror. All empty promises.” Their descent into moral and political lethargy is interrupted by the arrival of a very attractive young man, Mulligan, who’s discovered in their monthly supply shipment from the discount store. Eventually this screwy crew of seriously baked stoners find themselves searching for the enigmatic Matthew Madson, a Yeti-like wild man who may be the mysterious astronaut who first convinced them to embark on their deranged odyssey. Visually the film is like no other, filled with holographic blue phallus plants and characters morphing into gray fleshy blobs every time they pass a Black Hole, constantly disrobing and attempting to seduce each other (and despite the random nudity, the crewmembers are weirdly androgynous as if genders are becoming meaningless.) The dialogue is equally bizarre, littered with cryptic sound bites: “Did you know that neutrons can smile?”, “I think you are also just fiction” and the film’s mantra, “My eyes are cast down in awe.” The movie’s genesis is equally strange: based on a 1974 film by Herbst called DIE PHANTASTISCHE WELT DES MATTHEW MADSON, CATHEDRAL was finished after a decades-long gestation in 2006 (Herbst passed away in 2021.) One of the rarest and most obscure tiles in world animation and never before officially released on physical media, CATHEDRAL has been newly restored from the original camera negative and sound elements by Deaf Crocodile with the cooperation of Herbst’s wife, Renate Merck. In German with English subtitles.
FEATURES:
“Container Interstellar” (2001, 7 min.) – director Helmut Herbst’s animated sci-fi short with characters that would be more fully explored in CATHEDRAL OF NEW EMOTIONS, newly scanned for this release
“Werkinterview Filmkunst: Helmut Herbst” (2013, 25 min., dir. Anja Ellenberger) – fascinating short documentary featuring interviews with Herbst and clips from his acclaimed experimental films, made for nonprofit German arts TV and newly translated for this release. (Courtesy of TIDE TV)
New commentary by film historian Rolf Giesen
New video essay by experimental filmmaker and film scholar Stephen Broomer
Blu-ray authoring by David Mackenzie of Fidelity In Motion
New art by Beth Morris