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Movie Review: Songs from the Second Floor

Story: Swedish writer/driector Roy Andersson has not made a feature film since 1975. He should have stayed in retirement. This film stunk!

The story (and I use that term very loosely) takes place in some large unnamed European City with its' unexplained economic crisis. There are countless vignettes pounding this point home -- ad nauseum. The camera stays static - and for the first 20 minutes or so, this is quite interesting and arty to watch. My interest quickly waned as the film and the characters became pretentious, mundane and repetitive. His point is understood within the first half hour. He is not fond of the human race and makes fun of most of our institutions (not that there is anything wrong with that). On the chopping block is the government (of course), the church and the health care system.

This film is most definitely a mood piece. But all it did was put me in a bad mood. I could not wait to get out of the theater. There were a few characters in the film who commit suicide -- which at times seemed like a good idea. But all I had with me to perhaps end it all was a plastic bottle of Poland Spring Water.

Acting: Lots of people with white powdered faces named Lars, Erik, Sven, Kalle, Inga and Stefan.

Critters: One little white kitty and a bunch of rats (not in the same scene).

Food: A banana and an orange - now that I think about it - the fruit was the only real color in the film.

Visual Art: Because the camera stayed static the scenes were very interesting to view.

Blatant Product Placement: None.

Soundtrack: Some annoying thumping.

Opening Titles: None.

Theater Audience: Five wackos and me.

Quirky Meter: 5

Squirm Scale: I only squirmed because it was so very bad.

Predictability Level: Who cared?

Tissue Usage: I cried because I wasted $9.

Oscar Worthy: Ha!

Nit Picking: I don't think there are any nits in Purgatory - which is where this film must have been shot.

Big Screen or Rental: Neither. Spend the 85 minutes doing something more constructive like writing your Congressperson a letter or e-mail about something that has been bothering you lately. If you need ideas, I can supply you with some gripes.

Length: A torturous 85 minutes.

LOBO HOWLS: 2 (one for each floor)