Destination: Lusby!

Destination: Lusby!

We know the individuals who made this tiny, misshapen film. We count them as comrades, brothers of the heart. We for many nights shared bunks with them and whispered our deepest secrets into their ears and they likewise into our own ears until the crow of the cock. We, once, drank each other's plasma. In short, we are acquainted, and so you may, if you like, take our recommendation of their film as an average city bureaucrat might take a cryptic letter handed to him in a dream.

Now, we cannot praise the film lavishly. We find the cinematography often too pristine, the sound design inconsistently amateurish, the humor too pedantic, the cumulative air of despondency too generalized, the fleeting invocation of l'Internationale Situationniste well-meaning, but only that. But we do not find this film of Lusby, and the young cinephile and littérateur who lives there and the strange resonances that enfold him, altogether disagreeable, and think it ought to be shown in a small cinematheque that reeks of ammonia and evaporated histories to an audience of 37 or 38 very pale children, perhaps as a lead-in to a three hour feature about gears grinding in an eldritch abyss. We suspect the transaction between film and spectator in such a circumstance will be substantial. Failing such a circumstance, there is always the Tube of You:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=7_AwGHddy_A

LETTRISTB0XD liked this review