If you really enjoy films where virtually nothing happens and there's almost no dialog, Kill By Inches should definitely be on your list of "must-sees". If you're more like me and prefer movies where people actually do things and say stuff, avoid Kill By Inches like the plague.
This story is all about Thomas (Emannuel Salinger), an old fashioned tailor in a big city who lives in a rundown apartment above his dilapidated shop. Thomas' father (Marcus Powell) is also a tailor, but he has little use for his son. Thomas, you see, is terrible at taking measurements. Thomas' sister Vera (Myriam Cyr) is a much better tailor and is much closer to their father. When Vera returns to the city and starts living in Thomas apartment and working in his shop, her talents only emphasize Thomas' limitations. Then a weird sewing machine repairman named Hector (Christopher Zach) shows up at Thomas' shop and starts flirting with Vera.
Here is literally everything else that happens in the film. An endless series of people come in for measurements. There's an even more endless stream of scenes where Thomas is walking. Vera huffs into a plastic bottle and smears black stuff over her chest. Two terrible things happen and then Thomas wins the measurement competition at the annual Tailor's Ball. Oh, and Thomas silently stares at everybody.
Now, you may think I'm leaving something out, because how could all of that add up to any sort of story? Well, I haven't and it doesn't. Kill By Inches is like a strange, 8 page story written by one of those manic-depressive authors of the 19th century that's been stretched out on a taffy-pulling machine until it filled up 85 minutes of screen time.
This film doesn't even deserved to be called bad, because that would imply there's something there to be judged. This movie is a void, an overly mannered abyss. I can't see any point in anyone watching this film. I can't see what the point was of making this film.
Now, there could be some meaning or symbolism to Kill By Inches that I just don't get. If there is, though, I'm pretty sure I don't want to get it and am not missing anything by not getting it.
This story is all about Thomas (Emannuel Salinger), an old fashioned tailor in a big city who lives in a rundown apartment above his dilapidated shop. Thomas' father (Marcus Powell) is also a tailor, but he has little use for his son. Thomas, you see, is terrible at taking measurements. Thomas' sister Vera (Myriam Cyr) is a much better tailor and is much closer to their father. When Vera returns to the city and starts living in Thomas apartment and working in his shop, her talents only emphasize Thomas' limitations. Then a weird sewing machine repairman named Hector (Christopher Zach) shows up at Thomas' shop and starts flirting with Vera.
Here is literally everything else that happens in the film. An endless series of people come in for measurements. There's an even more endless stream of scenes where Thomas is walking. Vera huffs into a plastic bottle and smears black stuff over her chest. Two terrible things happen and then Thomas wins the measurement competition at the annual Tailor's Ball. Oh, and Thomas silently stares at everybody.
Now, you may think I'm leaving something out, because how could all of that add up to any sort of story? Well, I haven't and it doesn't. Kill By Inches is like a strange, 8 page story written by one of those manic-depressive authors of the 19th century that's been stretched out on a taffy-pulling machine until it filled up 85 minutes of screen time.
This film doesn't even deserved to be called bad, because that would imply there's something there to be judged. This movie is a void, an overly mannered abyss. I can't see any point in anyone watching this film. I can't see what the point was of making this film.
Now, there could be some meaning or symbolism to Kill By Inches that I just don't get. If there is, though, I'm pretty sure I don't want to get it and am not missing anything by not getting it.
