A man closes up a lecture hall; he reaches into a box and snips the string holding a gaunt puppet. Released, the puppet warily explores the darkened rooms about him. The desolate ambience and haunting musical score are meant to convey a sense of isolation and futility. As the short continues, the mute protagonist explores a realm of what are described by the director as "mechanical realities and manufactured pleasures". As the protagonist chooses to join this world, the camera slowly reveals how unfulfilling the surroundings actually are.
This is not to say that a film cannot exist purely as a mood piece. But it is perhaps to say that a narrative-free mood piece should not last for twenty-one excruciating minutes. "Brevity is the soul of wit", quoth Shakespeare. Which is really just a fancy way of saying "Don't waste my time". Street of Crocodiles feels like a waste of my time. It feels like I'm watching a music video for a grunge band, only the editor forgot to add in the music, or do any editing whatsoever. I have to commend the film for being just intriguing enough to keep me from standing up and going to the bathroom for the entire runtime. But this commendation is so insulting that you and I both know it's meant as more of a damnation than a compliment.
OVERALL FOUR OUT OF TEN RUSTY NAILS PENETRATING MY BALLSACK**
 |
| seriously what even |
*While doing some brief research for this article, I happened upon Terry Gilliam's picks for the ten best animated films of all time. Dimensions of Dialogue and Street of Crocodiles both appear on this list, as well as Pinocchio, Out of the Inkwell, and (quite amusingly) South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut.
** Words Added to Spellcheck Today:
- Ballsack
No comments:
Post a Comment