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I can only write this review with a healthy dose of self-parody. I love more visual, nonnarrative works, and I especially enjoy cinepoems. Yet still I think that this visual, nonnarrative cinepoem was really just pretentious sludge.
A boy is left in the woods, where he is then juxtaposed against various art clichés such as rolling grass in the wind and a stuffed raptor during the first part. During the second part, it's revealed that the sepia boyhood is the memory of a black and white manhood, with about every art-house film cliché of a guy screaming and looking into broken mirrors and apparently living on a cot in a dusty gray room.
According to the director's commentary--yes, there's even a director's commentary--this movie has a plethora of inspirations from TS Eliot to The Holocaust. In a way, it's obvious, but in a different way, it's actually impossible to see because the film is so poorly structured and arbitrary that it pretty much falls into the category of artsy nonsense. The whole thing looks like somebody was taking himself way too seriously to even be listened to in the first place.
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