An actor stands in a living room in a drab 50's housewife's dress.  The camera veers wildly across her and onto the movie lights as the operator tells  her not to worry about the boundaries, he'd rather pull her back than have her thinking about boundaries.   A psychedelic dance beat starts squeaking on the soundtrack.  She moves unnaturally, all bones and angles, impossibly in time to the music.  Images of a nude woman flash across the screen.  The actor stands still now, poised intensely, uncomfortably.  Without warning we now look at another woman sitting, a bit drunk, as the same off camera director explains how the interview will go.  Before she can speak we are away again, now watching a model in make-up chatting with the make-up artist and another actress.  The director cuts in, explaining that they should behave as though they were in a documentary.  The woman who was nude in the stills now sits clothed on a garish sofa, explaining how her hands are a combination of her mother's and father's hands.  She talks about her body, about skin rashes and her favorite traits.  She talks of growing up Roman Catholic, breaking out of sex guilt, being molested and raped, of modeling nude for an art class.  She's not the only interview in the movie, characters are presented without pretense, real people talking about themselves, about being human in the most physical sense.  A man talks about almost dying and his ideas about death, another man jokes about his physical ailments and explains why he won't show his penis.  A woman strips naked and plays with a toddler.  


Inter cut with these are strange, surrealist sequences, images of inexplicable beauty.  An actress being directed to act as a primitive in a modern home, descending into the madness of her self-created symbols, another woman performing an exotic pagan ritual, a nude model photographed by a photographer as the make-up artist hovers over her with powder.  There are no straight lines between any of this, but connections bubble in your subconscious almost articulable.  The film makes no sense, but somehow it is sense, it is our humanity presented between the scenes, between the ideas.   Threads are picked up and discarded with gleeful anarchy.  Characters and actions are separated but ideas are stacked and juxtaposed.  Information is thrown at you in unusual and incomprehensible, but never dull, ways.  You will begin the film wondering what it is about, and by the end of the film you will wonder what it is not about.

 

The Odd Movie is complete, and will be going on sale soon. Stay tuned!

 

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