I do find it hard to believe the boundaries of supposedly creative imbecility. This short is an anti-essay in every way - it's purposely mis-edited, poorly photographed, and - if there were any notion of 'conceit,' I'd say ill-conceived as well. The inclusion of the name of American poet Ezra Pound in the credits is nothing short of a mockery. Pound's voice is merely half-heard for half a second when he recorded a phrase from his Canto on Usury. Of course there will be no admirers of this pseudo-experience. Not even a concrete poet or a fan of revolutionary filmmakers would like it. What ultimately arises therefrom is the will to attack organized society, the defense of graffiti marginality and the sense of rancor borne out of an absolute lack of talent.
