Across walls, fences and alleys, rats not only expose our boundaries of separation, but make homes in them. Rat Film uses the rats, as well as the humans that love them, live with them, and kill them, to explore the history of Baltimore.
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RAT FILM is a masterpiece. It's of the genus of great works that we might label works of genius. That Baltimore is as much its subject as rats is telling; the movie is zoned like a bustling city. Jane Jacobs could get behind this shit. As noxious as I generally find the comparison game, the wag who compared Theo Anthony's miracle film to Chris Marker, Agnes Varda, and Werner Herzog pretty much has it right.
This probing journalism is smarter for the links it encourages us to associate and question, a genuinely curious exercise that posits rather than explains. It transposes the gutters, the sociological and most daringly the simulacrum with a deftness that allows honest subjectivity; when are rats suitable surrogates for how we treat each other, and what are the limits of these representations of reality?