This is the only film directed by French artist Marcel Duchamp, whose name is associated with the Dada and Surrealism movements (who doesn't remember the urinal exhibited with the title "Fountain"?). As other similar avantgarde works made by Man Ray, Hans Richter or Fernand Léger, there's not a plot, only moving shapes and objects, in an attempt to deny the vision of art as contemplation and ecstasy. All we see here is only wheeling spirals and disks in which we can read sentences that apparently have nothing to do with the film. So it's impossible to comment this short the way you can comment any other non-avantgarde movies. It's Dada. It's strange. It's incomprehensible and also a bit monotonous, but we can forgive the genius Man Ray for this.
Review of Anemic Cinema
