Photo: Michelange Quay's Eat, for This Is My Body
Given the most generic script in the world, Michelange Quay might prove to be a great director: He's got a matter-of-factness, love of languor, a patience and lightness of touch that takes on everyday life on the street as though he were filming the ocean—a bunch of sounds and movements rising up in parades, and then drifting apart as individuals hustle about shopping. Ocean sounds are constant through Quay's non-narrative, Eat, for This Is My Body, providing a loose, gentle sense of queasiness that belies Quay's portentous tracking shots, rigorously controlled, which suggest a horror film with the horrors just out of reach. David Pratt-Robson
Given the most generic script in the world, Michelange Quay might prove to be a great director: He's got a matter-of-factness, love of languor, a patience and lightness of touch that takes on everyday life on the street as though he were filming the ocean—a bunch of sounds and movements rising up in parades, and then drifting apart as individuals hustle about shopping. Ocean sounds are constant through Quay's non-narrative, Eat, for This Is My Body, providing a loose, gentle sense of queasiness that belies Quay's portentous tracking shots, rigorously controlled, which suggest a horror film with the horrors just out of reach. David Pratt-Robson
