We have not exactly, since the introduction of recorded sound into the cinematic lexicon, been inundated w/ City Symphony films such as those pioneered by the likes of Walter Ruttmann and Dziga Vertov in the 1920s. DiCillo's NYC Symphony almost entirely takes place beneath said city. It is fascinating and original, though somewhat soporific and not without its missteps. The music can definitely be a problem.
Last chapter concise, poignant, effective form & content: kids, love, ghostly forms. There's the film. POV in rest mostly banal. Repetitively captures alienation, mass motion patterns, dystopic ambience, etc. -- ie most blatant aspects of subway, a hackneyed catalogue, belaboured. Overt mental illness always handy for punctuation. Flogging clichéd foundation undermines contrasts. Less would be more.
As someone who's never got to experience the "underbelly" of a proper metropolitan city like NYC this was quite the interesting watch. The first three parts of the film almost made me legitimately anxious. The whole time I was watching I was constantly thinking of how much it all reminded me of the in-game world of half-life (or any other representation of a sci-fi-esque dystopian world for that matter). Very strange
bearable as background movie (or "furniture film" as warhol liked to call it). ignore any description that tries to elevate this film. after all it is only a series of wandering iphone shots while riding the metro. Its strength is definitely in its quantity and not quality.
Underground metros are interstitial spaces of never-ending activity, persistent noise, and uneasy rest. A miasma of faces, voices, smells; strangeness, loneliness, inner talking; numbness, emptiness. Move, wait, move again, like in a trance state. An intense video-essay emphasizing our lives in the suspension of travel and within the cacophony of modern times. PS. Check Kontroll by Nimrod Antal
Ein Dérive von ungewöhnlicher Schönheit. Man müßte nur wollen und könnte so jeden Tag auf Stadterkundung gehen. Das wird kein Voyeurismus sein, sondern vielmehr ein Wagnis nahe an der Poesie. Dicillo lehrt uns beobachten, was wir jeden Tag sehen: er lehrt uns über die Gefühle und stillen Gesten, die brutalen Zumutungen und leisen Versuche, zu leben. Mit einem versöhnlichen Ende gibt er uns in aller Unschuld auch Mut.