Shot in mostly pallid blues and greys, underexposed, with frequent fades and slow lap-dissolves the film takes on a "lurking" feeling, as if the viewer (through the vision unfolding on the screen) were drifting half-asleep through a cold, dark city devoid of sunlight. It doesn't feel good. Added to this is a stark musical composition by Rick Corrigan that is reminiscent of un-metered water-drops -- if water-drops sounded like light computer blips and flutes. Together, the whole piece becomes something that is initially off- putting and yet compelling enough to warrant further examination at the same time. It sinks into one's mind like a recurring bad memory of something lost or of the process of dispersing. Full with it's own emptiness.
I have really come to like this Brakhage film for it's subtlety and languid pacing, both on it's own and in consideration of his often more frenetically paced works. CRACK GLASS EULOGY is a duller gem that might be overlooked, but still as precious and valuable as any other that would be taken to right away. 8/10.