This is the type of film I am predisposed to love. I have watched it twice (trying, I was trying...and I don't know why) and outside of the Tarkovsky homage I hate it. It is an enigma wrapped in pretension and convolution parading as cool wit and genius. The problem with the ethereal, ephemeral or whatever style of film one might be inclined to call these pictures is they can go wrong in a hurry.. It is not easy being Tarkovsky, Weerasethakul or Lynch...it isn't. Case in point. Granted there are a few moments to appreciate in this art-house tire-fire but those moments are few and far between and always fleeting. Maybe if Nina Mekas could have shaved about 70 minutes off of the 87 minute running time she may have had something. Unfortunately, all 87 minutes are present and counted for, but all the viewer will be left with is anger.
