Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
Look, if you’re the type who needs a punchy hook or a twist every ten minutes, you are going to hate this. It’s slow. It’s methodical. Sometimes it feels like the camera just forgot to stop rolling. But if you’re into films that feel like a faded photograph—the kind where you can almost smell the stale air and the old furniture—then you might actually dig this.
It’s not for everyone. Honestly, it’s probably for about four people on the planet who enjoy watching silence. 🎥
I. Kutchenkov has this way of looking at a doorway that makes you wonder if he’s waiting for a ghost or just waiting for the lunch break. There’s a specific scene—maybe forty minutes in?—where he just stands by a window. The light hits the dust motes. It goes on for way too long. It’s awkward, but in a weirdly hypnotic way.
The pacing is totally erratic. Sometimes a conversation zips along, and other times a character will pause for five seconds just to pick up a glass of water. It’s not polished, but it feels human. It feels like they were tired when they shot it.
Watching this reminded me a bit of the mood in Une vie sans joie, though they aren't the same animal at all. Both share that strange, heavy stillness. It’s that feeling where you know something is wrong, but nobody is going to say it out loud.
I couldn't help but think about how modern movies are terrified of dead air. This one leans into it. It practically drowns in it. At one point, I checked my phone because I thought the stream froze, but no—it was just another lingering shot of a brick wall. Classic.
It’s not a masterpiece. It’s barely even a 'good' movie by traditional metrics. But it’s got texture. It’s rough around the edges, like a sweater that’s been washed too many times. 🧶
If you're looking for a plot that connects, look elsewhere. If you want to sit in a room and feel a bit strange for an hour, pull up a chair.

Year
1935
IMDb Rating
—

Editorial
Deciphering the legacy of transgressive cult cinema.
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