The Smell Of Burning Ants

Falling somewhere between a personal account and a universal pronouncement on growing up male, Jay Rosenblatt's experimental film advances the notion that boys are angry and therefore cruel (especially in groups), an observation which certainly has some merit. But the causes of male anger--very elliptically referred to in the film--seem to be both logical (a violent and abusive father) and serendipitous (a mother who potty trains her son). Over film fragments of boys playing, punching and shoving one another, and going after animals with murderous intent, a solemn narrator makes comments which range from the provocative to the absurd: "he'll sacrifice his foreskin, and God will make him forever doubt his existence" (when did circumcision become a prerequisite to existential inquiry?). Near the close we see a man trying to force a woman to provide oral sex (suggestive, not graphic). It's an ugly and irritating scene: ugly, because it depicts an act of abuse; irritating because the film's tone suggests this is typical male behavior. Since the style is experimental, Rosenblatt can conveniently eschew showing genuine cause and effect, building logical arguments, or backing up his apparent claims with documentation of any kind. That's the joy of experimental filmmaking. Still, while the approach is often maddening (and, to be fair, sometimes quite visually engaging), the film will indeed strike some uncomfortable chords in males, and could provide a springboard for fruitful discussion. An optional purchase. (R. Pitman)