VF Blackman

A majestic film clothed in scarecrow rags; a ghost in literally a sheet, virtually no dialogue, and a dreary little house—and yet this film tackles the big questions, the biggest questions: about life and its afterwards, history and mystery, human isolation and insulation, love with its shortcomings and its glory, and death, but Death with a capital D. Slow, meditative and ultimately deeply rewarding for the patient and attentive viewer. A philosophical discourse in the middle, ranted by an amateur physicist during a drunken party, doesn’t prepare you for the the director’s subtle but symbolic plot twist at the end of the film. A small jewel of a masterpiece.