Untitled

Karl Erik Brøndbo's film is but a few seconds long - so short, in fact, that there is disagreement as to its length - suffice to say, it is less than a minute.

One thing happens. Or, more specifically, comes to have been happening, and then is not happening again. Consider it an 'amuse oeil', an appetiser for a sense not traditionally courted in this way.

It is entertaining enough - laughter from the audience - but it is slight, very slight. Oh, interesting enough to look at, in the same way one can derive amusement from flicking through heavy metal album covers, but transient, fleeting.

Experimental film can disquiet in a number of ways - here in the act of presentation. At what point is something not enough to have been a film? No plot, just structure, an event - then it has gone. A focus on that moment, the film distilled into a single entity - that is something, even if it is next to nothing. Though one must confess to a certain disappointment, as with any act of art that is bereft of a name - it may look like wizardry, but it is unlikely it goes unclept for protection.