. . . it's a pity the aesthetic choice was made to *not* tell the story.

That's my take-away from last night's viewing, my first since the film's theatrical release some 25 years ago. If you know Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' you'll fill in the narrative; if not, you'll have a splendid two-hour hallucination.

But 'Prospero's Books' is the 800-pound gorilla of art films. Nothing like it before or since. F'ing glorious pile of exquisity.

After Peter Greenaway's stunning vision, Michael Clark's Caliban is the star, along with the naked human body in all sizes, shapes and ages -- by the army-full, non-eroticized -- marginalia etchings come to life, caryatids, collossi, etc.

Gielgud's celebrated voice murmurs most of the lines, but only somebody who didn't see it to the end (or parroting somebody who didn't) will make the false claim that no actor but Gielgud speaks. The sound is beautifully engineered, vocals and music.

The film opens with a cornucopia of fascinating images, including many naked bodies. The are a lot of nude bodies on show in this film. Some swimming underwater, some prancing around liberally. Sir John Gielgud is the prominent figure and voice of the film. He tells us all about the books, and his daughter on an island where they both are located. The story isn't going to entrap many viewers, but the look of it all really needs to be watched. Greenaway opens image after image in the centre of each frame, and large books are opened. The front of a woman's body is removed to reveal all her internal organs. It really deserves to be seen just to look at it all. This film is very appealing to the eye.

An exiled magician finds an opportunity for revenge against his enemies muted when his daughter and the son of his chief enemy fall in love in this uniquely structured retelling of "The Tempest".

I am not sure how much this relies on or strays from "The Tempest", because frankly it is not a play I am terribly familiar with. That probably hinders my ability to critique this film. I suspect the original is not written with pervasive nudity in mind, which I found interesting (and not the least bit distracting).

The version I watched was on DVD, but was clearly an awful transfer, possibly from a VHS tape. That is a shame, because the visuals seemed stunning, yet blurred. A better transfer might make me rethink the film ,and probably bump it up a notch or two.