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Nothing is as it seems in a world of dreams, deception, and resurrection. Sometimes breathing comes more easily underwater.
The landscape of these films is clear in our collective memory, though we see much of it at night, in too-bright sun, while we are dreaming, or in an impossible dusk. Everything is a little off as we wander as innocents down rural backroads, across the crunchy gravel parking lots of last-stop motels, through the silence of carpeted hotel hallways, into our own apartments (did we leave the window open?), not knowing what we’ll encounter next.
These films run along a spectrum but most hover in the realm of the dark. We are at times lost, broken down. The characters recount traumas, or create them. A pulse beats throughout the films, pulling us between calm and storm. Though the program varies widely, a thread connects the films, as if the characters are cut from the same cloth, a band of outsiders plotting to take over our world.