A totally hypnotic experience, with a sexiest poetic preambles set to dreamy guitar. And lotsa *homie losin his shit in a furnace room.*

There’s a great review of Herzog’s 1976 Heart of Glass on this here website devoted to cults. I see no need to reinvent the wheel about this film on my own blogspace so I shall keep my writing to a minimum.

I will only opine two things:

1. Here lies the greatest drunken diss in all film history:

2. You can’t call yourself a Herzog-head until you’ve seen Heart of Glass.