I viewed this documentary, as I was under the impression it was about Mersh's investigations into the seedy aspects of humanity, dealing with death, murder, rape, and cats. However, I did not receive what I expected; instead I was met with a dreamlike narrative of non-sequitur content, which is extremely engrossing. It is essentially a compilation of stock footage, intercut with interviews that are seemly about subjects unrelated to its title or description.
For an example of the abovementioned dreamlike structure: Early in the first episode, after footage of a forested area with some figures walking about, we transition with sped up footage of a metropolitan area going from night to day, and then are shown a short interview with a fat woman describing her finances. Following this, we cut again to what I can only assume is stock footage and transition again to more stock footage, and again to an interview, this time concerning the dangers of everyday objects. This same scene-transition-interview-scene-transition pattern is followed almost to a tee. Most of the show is--apart from the interviews--unnervingly silent.
Through the ambiguous meaning of this artistic masterpiece, it provides something interesting for all that endure it. I could watch the entire three episode series dozens of times and come away with something different each time.
The most interesting part of this documentary comes in the third episode when, in the last few minutes of the entire show, Mersh is finally shown in all of his glory. His small part in the documentary is especially evocative because of his jovial--perhaps even gay--nature, as well as his gaudy--perhaps even gay--attire. The entire segment featuring him could, and should be, watched frame-by-frame, the viewer making mental and/or physical note of all the nuances in his performance. With his every movement and utterance an entire work comparable to any great artist's oeuvre is produced.
I went into this viewing experience expecting Mersh to appear consistently throughout the episodes, and though I was disappointed by the lack of him in 98.33% of entire series, I nevertheless watched what could be the best short series of this decade. This documentary is a masterpiece of subversive art, showing how even the mundane and unimportant matters of life is, in itself, a story. I applaud Fred Kroetsch and NBC for their bravery in releasing this surreal and enigmatic "documentary" and look forward to what they provide in the future.
For an example of the abovementioned dreamlike structure: Early in the first episode, after footage of a forested area with some figures walking about, we transition with sped up footage of a metropolitan area going from night to day, and then are shown a short interview with a fat woman describing her finances. Following this, we cut again to what I can only assume is stock footage and transition again to more stock footage, and again to an interview, this time concerning the dangers of everyday objects. This same scene-transition-interview-scene-transition pattern is followed almost to a tee. Most of the show is--apart from the interviews--unnervingly silent.
Through the ambiguous meaning of this artistic masterpiece, it provides something interesting for all that endure it. I could watch the entire three episode series dozens of times and come away with something different each time.
The most interesting part of this documentary comes in the third episode when, in the last few minutes of the entire show, Mersh is finally shown in all of his glory. His small part in the documentary is especially evocative because of his jovial--perhaps even gay--nature, as well as his gaudy--perhaps even gay--attire. The entire segment featuring him could, and should be, watched frame-by-frame, the viewer making mental and/or physical note of all the nuances in his performance. With his every movement and utterance an entire work comparable to any great artist's oeuvre is produced.
I went into this viewing experience expecting Mersh to appear consistently throughout the episodes, and though I was disappointed by the lack of him in 98.33% of entire series, I nevertheless watched what could be the best short series of this decade. This documentary is a masterpiece of subversive art, showing how even the mundane and unimportant matters of life is, in itself, a story. I applaud Fred Kroetsch and NBC for their bravery in releasing this surreal and enigmatic "documentary" and look forward to what they provide in the future.