Untitled

Depending on how much abstract thought the viewer is willing to engage in, (Untitled) is either an astoundingly brilliant meditation on the vacuous essence of popular contemporary art, or a dreadful mess, the cinematic equivalent of “my six-year-old could do this.” Perhaps with this in mind, the filmmakers have provided a product so devoid of entertainment that it virtually guarantees 90 minutes of awkward silence in which to nurture the audience’s ruminations on the film’s deeper meaning and inherent worth. Given enough time and tedium, the human mind can transform a piece of string into a transcendent statement on the essence of existence, and thus it is pos...