An audacious entry into some sort of fantasy world from the feverish, imaginative brain of Winnipeg's maddening but always interesting Guy Maddin. The film's many plotlines emerge one after another (I'm not sure how many) like boxes within boxes (as in those Russian nesting dolls.) Interspersed from time to time- and occurring more than twice-is a goofy sort of narrator in a bathrobe instructing us about the correct method of taking a bath. He enters telling an off-color joke or two. I won't provide any examples. The raison d'être of the film appears to be some sort of homage to silent movies and early talkies as evidenced by the very amusing title cards and the techniques applied to convey this impression. Eg. Some of the scenes were visually garbled, as if these were partially destroyed as a result of the physical decay resulting from dissolution of the chemicals in the film stock. There are various goofy entities (people) such as sapling jacks, female skeletal insurance defrauders and a complaining volcano amongst many, many other oddities. It's beautifully photographed and cleverly edited and I was delighted with the humor (some of which was a series of frat boy bad jokes.) Regarding the meaning of the title, I ain't gonna tell ya, but think in terms of ribald humor of a certain kind. This movie is not for all tastes but it is a film lover's delight.
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