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Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
Honestly, you could probably find better entertainment reading a dusty almanac in the back of a library. But if you’re the type of person who stops at every roadside historical marker just to see what the plaque says, you might get a kick out of this.
If you need plot, pacing, or any semblance of a character arc, stay far away. You will be bored to tears within the first ninety seconds. 💀
There’s something inherently uncomfortable about someone trying to make you laugh while standing over a grave. The film focuses on those little poems and quips carved into old stones. Some of them are genuinely clever, showing that people haven't changed much in their need to have the last word.
Other bits? Well, they fall flat. The camera just lingers on the stone, letting you squint to read the fading cursive. It feels like watching someone else's vacation slides from a trip to a cemetery in 1920.
I caught a glimpse of a tombstone mention that felt like a secret confession. It’s the kind of thing that makes you wonder what the person was actually like before they hit the dirt. That’s the only part that really stuck with me.
The pacing is non-existent. It just stops on one grave, stays there, then jumps to another. It’s almost hypnotic in how little it tries to hold your hand. It’s not quite as charming as The Adventures of the Three Reporters, but it’s certainly less stressful than Family Troubles.
It’s a weirdly personal thing to watch. You’re looking at someone’s final joke, delivered to an audience that’s been dead for decades. I didn't hate it, but I’m not sure I’d ever recommend it to a friend without a long disclaimer. It’s just… there. Like a stone. 🪦
Year
1935
IMDb Rating
—
Editorial
Deciphering the legacy of transgressive cult cinema.
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