Sandcastles (aka Binary Blindfolded Brides) | Chicago Reader

Sandcastles (aka Binary Blindfolded Brides)

This 79-minute eternity of no-budget avant-garde flapdoodle begins with a guy waking up under a Chicago overpass to find his shoes and cell phone missing. Back home, he works through his existential hangover in portentous voice-overs—“Here I am in a cloud,” he thinks, padding around a steamy bathroom in a towel, “here in the intensely opaque room which I've always dreamed of penetrating.” What follows sets a new standard for artsy tedium. Director Filip J. Rymsza's strenuously erudite script incorporates excerpts from Rimbaud, Camus, Sartre, Breton, Eliot, Dante, and Goethe, among other defenseless parties. There were moments when I thought this had to be a put-on.

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