#Beat state of decay 2 movie#
Made by the Swedish co-directors Kristina Lindström and Kristian Petri, it’s a small, impressionistic, oddly heartfelt movie about beauty, stardom, adoration, exploitation, and loss. “The Most Beautiful Boy in the World” is a documentary about the imagistic stardom he attained - and also about the man he is now, who is so different that you almost can’t fuse the two together in your mind. You could say that he was a male version of Brooke Shields, and you wouldn’t be wrong, but she, from a young age, was a model (that was the context in which she was seen), whereas Andrésen, in “Death in Venice,” just seemed to appear like a force of nature, a forlorn blond dewdrop of antiquity. He had an aura about him, a kind of metaphysically passive and androgynous teen-idol mystique merged with something timeless. And Andrésen, with his angelic features set off by a half-smile beneath a billowy burst of honey-blond hair, became that boy. Tadzio is described in the novel as being like a god from Greek mythology - an ethereal statue of a boy, a figure out of dreams.
As a movie, “Death in Venice” was prose trying to be poetry, but Björn Andrésen truly looked like a human work of art. Yet the young actor he was staring at gave the picture its meaning. (We have to read his thoughts, which becomes heavy lifting.) In the movie, the hero’s fixation came down to Dirk Bogarde doing an endless amount of ardent staring. On the page, Mann had evoked the romantic and sensual obsession that his ailing autobiographical hero felt, from afar, for Tadzio, an adolescent he spies at the hotel he’s convalescing at on the Lido. “Death in Venice” was a grand, slow-moving, and, to me, always rather stilted and awkward piece of lavish-souled literary adaptation. He was the 15-year-old Swedish boy who director Luchino Visconti cast as the love object in “ Death in Venice,” his 1971 film of Thomas Mann’s novel, and for a time Andrésen blew up like a pop star. But even back in the heyday of art-house earthquakes like “Z” and “Last Tango in Paris,” there was something surreal about the crossover phenomenon of Björn Andrésen. Art films used to cross over into the mainstream more than they do now, though it still happens (just look at the success of “Parasite”).
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