An almost perfect example of the kind of self-indulgent short that proliferated at film festivals in the early '00s, LOST MAN would be totally forgettable if not for a couple crudely inserted shock scenes, clearly designed to get people talking. But if the main thing they're saying is "That's the poo movie, right?", unless you're John Waters, it's probably time to head back to the drawing board.
It's impossible to convey the plot of LOST MAN, as I couldn't really follow it. It's essentially a "couples squabbling" short story yanked straight out of the pages of The New Yorker. John is a city dweller adrift in his 20s, struggling to figure out where his relationship with girlfriend Courtney stands while French acquaintance Pascal comes to visit. What all this means is presumably apparent to the director, who would no doubt love to walk you through it at length if you were obliging enough to watch his movie with him.
Where the film stands out - clearly by design - is in a couple shock moments that come out of nowhere. The second, which features Pascal dropping his pants and graphically masturbating while ogling the protagonist's old Polaroids, is surprising but also de rigeur for the period, the turn-of-the-millennium heyday of "art-core." More shocking is a scene beforehand, which finds John's girlfriend unleashing her pent-up frustration by dropping *her* drawers and graphically urinating and defecating on his pillow. The irregular rhythms at which these excreta are produced give the uncomfortable impression it's all too real, and, if so, it's possible to commend the thespian for her commitment while still questioning the moment's necessity. It basically stops the film cold, an example for all the wrong reasons of Tom Gunning's Cinema of Attractions. Unlike a typical moment of attraction, however, one has to wonder who on Earth was asking for this.
Whatever the case, these two odd moments mark the film's claim to fame, and serve as a handy summation of its key qualities: masturbatory and ultimately kind of crappy.
It's impossible to convey the plot of LOST MAN, as I couldn't really follow it. It's essentially a "couples squabbling" short story yanked straight out of the pages of The New Yorker. John is a city dweller adrift in his 20s, struggling to figure out where his relationship with girlfriend Courtney stands while French acquaintance Pascal comes to visit. What all this means is presumably apparent to the director, who would no doubt love to walk you through it at length if you were obliging enough to watch his movie with him.
Where the film stands out - clearly by design - is in a couple shock moments that come out of nowhere. The second, which features Pascal dropping his pants and graphically masturbating while ogling the protagonist's old Polaroids, is surprising but also de rigeur for the period, the turn-of-the-millennium heyday of "art-core." More shocking is a scene beforehand, which finds John's girlfriend unleashing her pent-up frustration by dropping *her* drawers and graphically urinating and defecating on his pillow. The irregular rhythms at which these excreta are produced give the uncomfortable impression it's all too real, and, if so, it's possible to commend the thespian for her commitment while still questioning the moment's necessity. It basically stops the film cold, an example for all the wrong reasons of Tom Gunning's Cinema of Attractions. Unlike a typical moment of attraction, however, one has to wonder who on Earth was asking for this.
Whatever the case, these two odd moments mark the film's claim to fame, and serve as a handy summation of its key qualities: masturbatory and ultimately kind of crappy.