A film in which the editing room is a torture chamber - a fast draw to the studios that saw celluloid as confetti, and artistic prowess as a threat. A hero stripped bare and projected through a prismatic fissure of hallucinatory decay. 'A lonesome drifter wanders into town, armed only with his tripod and camera.'
Thank god it's over. Reminded me of the projects students make when learning Premiere or Avid or Final Cut Pro. Everyone takes footage from a film and makes a video to show that they know how to apply video and audio effects. Someone uses footage from "Saw." I used a Squirrel Nut Zippers song. We screen these odes once and never watch them again, as they are only exercises. This too could have remained an exercise.
I like Tscherkassky fine. I've enjoyed his inquiries and extrapolations... But my god this is perfect. If Vertov provided cinema's Rosetta Stone, this is the realization of its cryptography, in poetry; its embodiment as philosophical event. Most exciting to me is that Schaefer's contribution is thus more integral than in their other collaborations, bringing sound to a theoretical forefront that it's too often denied.
I feel like the film's title is the name of a document the director didn't bother reading. The whole thing felt broken and needlessly frenzied. In my opinion the message about Hollywood masculinity was conveyed in the first 2 minutes and the rest was just an exercise in discomfort.
Here is a cowboy, a western cinematic metaphor for confidence and fearlessness, falling into a psychodrivern rabbit hole leading to not exactly wonderland but still full of weird and unknown. A quest brought by whims of the artist, a quest he didn't sign for in a first place while filming on set for something possibly entirely different. It's like by doing this the artist bullies the cowboy for being cocky.