I missed the original small theatrical run of Anna Biller's The Love Witch when it was out earlier this year. Now that it's online I decided to travel in my time capsule back to a recreated version of 1967-1973 California. It pairs well with the book currently on my bedside table, Joan Didion's Slouching Towards Bethlehem.
Both of these shine a spotlight on the darker edges of a hippie-filled California of the late '60s. One is non-fiction reportage, and the other is a fabulously intricate recreation of the Day-Glo meets pastel dreamscape of the B-movie exploitation/sexploitation/witchsploitation era.
With a two-hour running time (purposely paced as a slow-burn 1960s drama), for the ADHD generation it may be a trial to get through. But the long, languid, ambling pace seems to fit the bill for these type of grindhouse flicks, even if an 85 minute run time would have made this a more cracking little candy-colored thriller.
Even with its stilted acting (also on purpose, I assume) and languid pace, the visual feast of this film alone makes it worth watching. Style over substance? Of course. But don't let it stop you from enjoying:
A fondant and frosting covered afternoon tea in a womans' only tea room:
Flocked velveteen wallpaper, candelabras, and giant amulets:
Makeshift mini Renaissance Faires in the middle of the forest:
Overstuffed furniture in jewel tones:
Did I mention a live singing harpist in the tea room?
Giant goblets of love potions and fake Tiffany lamps:
And all the glorious powder blue and purple eyeshadows and false eyelashes you can handle:
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