Running from the Kvlt is a short film created by director/producer/actor Alex Sylvester. Between meandering and pointless bits of sloppy production, it intends to tell the story of a man who is trying to run from two apparent black metal musicians who are not chasing him to begin with.
The film starts with the protagonist, if he can be labeled as such, arriving home, walking into his house, and checking his freezer. Why we have to see any of this is beyond me. There are no expository elements to the introduction other than to inform you that the main character drives a car, lives in a house, and apparently has nothing of interest in his freezer.
There is no dialogue, but at the same time we are forced to listen to every sound the character makes. In a film that is supposedly intended to have diegetic music as its chief audio element, we are left wondering why we must listen to every squeak of a sneaker, every step of a staircase. It is not only distracting from what is important to the scene, it is also offensive to the ears.
At some point amidst the mish-mash of an introduction that the film forces down your throat with all the creative and literal force of a three-toed sloth, a black metal band appears outside the hero's sliding glass door. You draw this conclusion not from their appearance, but from the music playing far in the background. It would also appear that when the question of costume design and implementation came up during production, the director's answer was a swift "fuck it". The "black metallers" look about at "kvlt" as any teenagers you would find skulking about in a shopping mall food court.
When our hero realizes their presence, he does what any one of us would do and, without hesitation, runs off to grab a plastic toy shotgun. Not wishing to spare the viewer a moment of their lives, we are forced to sit and watch as the protagonist clumsily loads it with no sense of urgency, seeming to forget what he has grabbed the gun for in the first place. Once he remembers his mission, he runs off with conviction to the sliding glass door to confront the black metallers. Upon his arrival, he appears to be slightly aware of the fact that they have vanished, but takes no real interest in the situation at hand. Oh, you know, other than his first instinct being to kill them apparently rather than to ask them, like so many old neighborhood men might, to get off his lawn.
Upon attempting to return to the cozy interior of his abode, the hero discovers none other than those black metal rascals to be inside his home playing their unique brand of black metal. For some inexplicable reason, at this point he becomes the hunted rather than the hunter, and must make his lazy, uninspired escape from the black metal duo. Immediately he discards the all-important plastic shotgun as if he has realized that violence is not the answer and if he will have to fight he will do so as a man.
After much meaningless wandering outside his home, our hero confronts the black metallers and stares them down. After exchanging several inconclusive nods, they become best friends. Wondering who was chasing who? Wondering why a black metal band was playing outside this particular man's home? Well, I am as well, seeing as the film made it clear that it had no intentions of clarifying any questions the viewer may have. Instead you are left to ponder where your life has gone and whether or not you still believe in the medium of film.
This reviewer rates the film a 2/10 star effort, a clumsy start out of the gate for this horse who had broken legs to begin with.
Topic: FEAST YOUR EYES. MY FINAL PROJECT HATH COMETH. (Read 3111 times)