Pink Floyd’s The Wall, can only be experienced through the perceptive goggles of metaphorical interpretation. Though a very intriguing and serious film, it can be afflicted with illusory correlations that leave sections open to interpretations that can also be easily taken out of context or misinterpreted. The Wall prescribes an emotional tax on the viewer and takes an inventory of control with it’s inflictive totality. It sets the viewer in a position to suck it in as an art film of sorts with pretentious temperament and sublimal proxies. Hallucinatory in nature, pictoral illustrations molest the viewer with visions of copulatory flora, muddle-faced children, marching hammer armies, mutating nightmares and emergent proscriptive tranfigurations.
An obvious dialogue deficiency allows for creative introspection and as the story progresses through licensed flashbacks, the protagonist internalizes his fixations on hatred and adopts a nazi-fascist, mad-crazy, sub-human, alternate personality. The madness continues and his delusions encapsulate him through nightmarish fabrications that parallel his reality as a performer. Viewer satisfaction is ultimately found in a senseless hotel room destruction scene that falls flat on the schematic of movie-made fantasies!
I can imagine the supposed biographical aspect reflected in the emotional vectors of a serious soundtrack as The Wall. Every song is experienced in intermittent confusion, madness and emotion. Perhaps he is asphyxiated by the domestic routes of control for dealing with the event which spawned his maniacal hysteria. He recedes into isolation and experiences lucid realizations through his evaporating state of mind.
My supreme lick of interest manifested in the scene where he assembles the broken everything that he had earlier destroyed in a fit of rage to transpose the objects on the floor into configurations that aesthetically appeal to him.
Anyway… Tear Down The WALL!!