“The Holy Mountain” is sort of an anti-stoner movie but that’s a good thing. Although it is full of striking visuals (including a recreation of the conquest of Mexico with lizards, a clunky ’50s sci-fi-style sex robot that gives birth to a smaller robot, and a creepy couple who put cocaine in their ears) and it’s got a frazzled, freak-folk and free-jazz soundtrack with contributions from Don Cherry, it’s shot in a sobering, gritty style. No matter how out there its imagery gets, “The Holy Mountain” always undercuts its stonedness. It’s closer to the attitude found in a Wes Anderson movie (Anderson cribbed many moves from “The Holy Mountain” for “The Life Aquatic”) in that all this quirk which looks cool is by the end revealed to be a defense mechanism against the complexities of real life and must be cut down if we’re going to mature intellectually and emotionally. The second half of the movie, which finds the rag-tag group of the super rich finally traveling to the mountain and losing their egos once and for all, strips away all of the “woah bro” shots and ambitious set design and focuses on nature and pleasing color combinations. Here Jodorowsky reveals the limits of escapism, whether it’s being high or making super-stylized cinema, and tells viewers to go outside and experience something real. It’s a weed movie that tells you to put down your weed, which is the preferable kind of stoner movie, really. You have to come to it, it doesn’t come to you.