The film trans, which was lauded at the Sundance and Berlin film festivals, finally has an American distributor. Some say it wasn't picked up sooner because the hard-to-describe indie doesn't fit into a neat category. And yet there is an apt description: a languid road movie. Shot in southwest Florida by Julian Goldberger, the camera lingers over skies heavy with rain and drooping trees. The narrative is spoken in a slow, lulling manner, and the people move as though the humidity were palpable. The film for the most part is the view of the world from a juvenile convict who has escaped from a prison road-clean-up crew. (Once in a while there is a break from his perspective, without much rhyme or reason.) The young ex-inmate meanders through brackish waters in a swamp, talks with the locals about life and escape (he wants to go to Colorado, where he can kill his meals), gets high on nitrous oxide from a can, and chats about vegetables. But this lovely film really is about movement and sound, in particular the movement and sound of rural southern Florida, which makes this gem all the more worthwhile.
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