There is an apocryphal story of an ageing Orson Welles introducing himself to the guests at a half-empty town hall. “I am an actor, a writer, a producer and a director,” he said. “I am a magician and I appear on stage and on the radio. Why are there so many of me and so few of you?”
If a fantasy author were to dream up Welles’s psychedelic cousin, he’d likely have the air of Alejandro Jodorowsky: serene and white-bearded with a crocodile smile, presiding over a niche band of disciples. He has been – variously, often concurrently – a director, an actor, a poet, a puppeteer, a psychotherapist, a tarot-card reader, an author of fantasy books. At the age of 96, Jodorowsky estimates that he’s lived 100 different lives and embodied 100 different Jodorowskys. “Because we are different people all the time,” he says. “I died a lot of times but then I’m reborn. Look at me now and you see I’m alive. I am happy about this. It is fantastic to live.”
