For those of you apparently too busy to dedicate long hours to the joy of viewing obscure films only a minuscule percentage of people will ever watch. I’m here to save you from your own pathetic existence of meaningful time spent doing whatever you believe is more important at the time. There is currently a film that has been getting nothing but glowing critical reception. It is at the top of the conversation inside every serious film circle. It’s so insanely good it doesn’t even physically exist yet. Here is my review for the film that hasn’t been made yet but will surely be the greatest single piece of media to ever grace your fucking eyeballs. If Jesus Christ returns to Earth, it was to plant himself in front of a screen and witness this, the pinnacle of human achievement.

“Crossing a Busy Intersection” is set in Seattle, America.  It takes place sometime next week (or tomorrow I can’t remember). It is a lyrical tapestry woven by giant spiders and compressed to H.264 for easy viewing across all devices. It’s a film about madness, desperation and lots of sex. Focusing on the tireless and Kafkaesque journey from one side of the road to the other, we are launched at Mach 2 into the shoes of an individual, walking aimlessly, heading for a busy intersection.

A nameless protagonist named Steve, starts from a humble world. A street with a coffee shop, a homeless guy and a varied assortment of folks. A simple life. A life of putting feet in front of other feet. Making sure you don’t trip or pee your pants. Watching out for cracks just in case that old playground rhyme had some truth to it. A starting point so basic and mundane it truly transcends what a story can be. As its not a story at all. Removing all preconceived notions of fanciful entertainment, “Crossing a Busy Intersection” breaks the barriers of time and space in the first few seconds. Little did we viewers know. This movie was created not to make us smile, or feel something we thought we had buried deep down, never to revisit until a few nights at a bar with too many whiskeys. This movie was made as a challenge to the very will of God himself. Even listing God himself as the only credit.

Before I could even process what my eyes were taking in, the film had already knocked itself into another level. Breaking down all matter, until the essence of entropy itself was dancing into my retinas. This was a level only space aliens and some dolphins can comprehend. Colors disappeared than reappeared. Shapes morphed and transformed. Sounds echoed endlessly into a black void. I could feel my very life force draining out of my asshole into a bucket placed under my theater chair. All objective realities where absorbed by the subjective reality. Then the subjective reality got absorbed by ‘Kl’voth, the Dread Beast of Many Dead Worlds’ whom later vomited everything back into my mouth so I could carry on with the theater experience I paid $12.50 for.

As I gazed back into the world of “Crossing a Busy Intersection,” I realized it was almost at its end. Steve was already three quarters of the way across the pedestrian walkway. My mind was reeling. I searched my memories, scrambling to piece together the narrative. One so thick and complex it was as though it passed by in a few minutes. Before I could come to grips with the acts: Steve walking up to the edge of the sidewalk. Steve waiting patiently. Steve trying not to make eye contact with the homeless man who was siting against a wall next to the door of the coffee shop, acting like a hotel doorman, smacking the handicap automatic door button for each customer, wishing them a good morning and holding his hat out for a tip. Steve scratching his neck. Steve crossing the street. It was all too much to digest.

Even now as I write this, I can’t quite get a grip on my own memories. A mischievous fairy has put me into a coma of terrible amnesia. He probably put his little dirty fingers in my mouth too.

Then without another second passing, Steve reached the other side of the road and the film cut to black. At the time, it felt like an error. A possible technical malfunction in the projector booth. But it was intended. A finale that left us all wanting. What was the other street like? Is the grass truly greener or dead and grey? Where was Steve’s finale destination? An open ending. Much like life’s open ending. It usually ends in death, but who knows?

I hope this review finds an anguished mind, in search of the next hot property in cinema. Take my first hand retelling of a film that never existed and will never exist, as a cautionary tale about the environment.


Next Week: “I try to bake myself in a casserole” The review.


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