High-handedly experimental films are often perceived as lacking narrative, regardless of the filmmaker's personal vision. Films crafted as a visual stream-of-consciousness typically do tell a story, though in a way so vague and abstract that viewers will be apt to draw diversified interpretations. I suspect this would be the case with AND THE WORD WAS MADE FLESH, a dialog free, post-psychedelic black-and-white ayahuasca trip which hurls a barrage of hypnagogic imagery at the viewer, presumably to be translated into something somewhat humanly relatable. What I personally gleaned from this uncombed tangle of Delphic woolgathering involves a scientist attempting to shield his innocent muse, a female born of a chrysalis, from abduction by other, less compassionate minds of science who wish to study or exploit her. The transpirations at hand are accompanied chiefly by mellow improv noodling on a bass, flute and drum.
AND THE WORD WAS MADE FLESH is a film which so pushes its nonrepresentational methodologies that it ultimately comes up audience-dissociating and uncommunicative. Too, it's never as visually enrapturing as films like ERASERHEAD or BEGOTTEN, making it a rather toilsome viewing experience. Being neither especially visionary nor iconographically stimulating, it's unlikely to be of much interest to any but the most stalwart procurors of fringe experimental cinema.
4/10.