No. An hour and twenty minutes of Easy Rider in New Orleans meets Performance. Retro pretentious crap.

Very much of the same vibes as Skinamarink.

There are people in the world who will drive a 17-year old, broken-down, running-on-3-of-8-cylinders, dirty, beat-up, wrecked BMW just so they can tell their supposed friends and colleagues that they own a BMW. Those are the kind of people who watch stuff like _Enys Men_ and call it "art" and proclaim that "mere mortals can't understand it". Those people are low-class idiots who want to pretend they understand something that can't be understood. Such is the case with this film. There is no rhyme or reason to it; there is nothing to be "understood" or even derived from it. If there were no synopsis or reviews or critques or anything else written about this film, and you went into it totally blind, you would have no idea what this is about...because it isn't about anything. According to the vast majority of comments, reviews, and other ramblings, it's _supposed_ to be about one woman's "descent into madness" because of her isolation on an abandoned mining island. The film does nothing to portray anything like that; you're just supposed to derive that from the myriad of comments floating around here on Trakt, IMDB, Rotten. Tomatoes, and other similar sites. In truth, this is perhaps the biggest waste of an hour and a half of ANYONE'S time. I will give props to the cinematography because it was beautifully done. But cinematography alone does not make a movie, and apart from that one redeeming value, there was nothing else remarkable or enjoyable about this film. If, like me, you've found this on some curated list of horror films that are supposed to be "this or that" (chilling, terrifying, supernatural, psychological, mind-bending, or whatever other adjective they want to lump with it), take my advice and ignore those curators who come up with such lists. This was just incredibly boring from the opening moments all the way until the end credits started. You can't give props for the acting - there was none. You can't give kudos for incredible dialogue: there were maybe 7 sentences spoken through the entirety of the 89-minute film. You can't rave over the musical score: there was none. It was basically an ocean surf, the wind, and silence...apart from the one or two sentences spoken throughout. In a nutshell, they want you to believe this is some sort of _avant-gardé_ film that merits your attention and your raving devotion but the harsh truth is, this was an hour and a half of sheer boring tripe that doesn't deserve to be watched anywhere, by anyone. I've watched it and I'm here to give you fair warning: Save yourself an hour and a half. There is no story, and there is no "descent into madness". It's an hour and a half of a lone woman checking on flowers, writing the same sentence in a logbook, starting a generator, then going to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat...for 89 minutes. Save yourself and avoid this one.

No change. No change. No change. No change. This afternoon is all meshed up.

Reminded me a lot of Skinamarink with the camera shots and imagery but you could at least get a sense of that she was going nuts.