Small Still Voice

There was once a review of a Bob Dylan album - Down in the Groove, I think, which went "What the f**k is this s**t?" I'm tempted to stop there, but this film is the story of a whore who gets told what to do by a marionette. There's some kind of feminist story - that its okay to be a prostitute - but other than that, ten minutes of utter tripe and non stop tedium. As a result, you sit there thinking, "what kind of inane buffoon made this?" Who knows, is the answer, but clearly the director's ego masquerades as self acclaimed talent. This film looks as if it was made for a film competition, so it's full of in jokes and self reverence. Honestly, the tragedy is, this is a horrid film made by a horrid woman who holds no right to create art, other than attend, one presumes, a small liberal arts college. Please avoid this. Egos like Petagno's ought not to be supported in this way.