a review of 雾

Hooptober Night Four: This one was a bit less shocking than I was expecting given the pedigree, but as an existential metaphor I found it oddly compelling, like some strange mix of Poe, Bierce, and Kafka. There is a tactile quality to Tsukamoto's images that is weirdly enhanced by the rough standard-def video, like live camera footage from some disaster on the news.