This is one of the strangest films I have ever watched, but the strangeness is something completely different from, say, "Donnie Darko" or "Abre los ojos." The strangeness lies not in a man in a rabbit suit or a man who lives in a dream, but rather in everyday occurrences. Perception is the key to "Stuart Bliss," whether it be time, chance occurrences that seem to be linked, perhaps even mental derangement. No answer to any question asked by the film or the audience should be expected. Like Stuart says of time, how it is able to move backwards and forwards, this film seems to present a portrait, a snapshot, of something that is blurry and cannot be entirely distinguished. Watching the film more than once, however, allows for the viewer to notice details that went by unnoticed the first time. For example, anyone watching this film should pay attention to the pink notices Stuart keeps receiving, as they play a keep part in understanding the film, at least as much as it can be understood. This is a film that is difficult to describe or dissect, as it could be about any number of things. Details of a larger picture manifest themselves throughout the whole, but they never come into focus. One can only guess from the outline at what is being presented, and this must be seen through his or her own subjective perception. "Stuart Bliss" is not a filmmaker's film, despite the fact that the director and primary actor also performed most of the other key production tasks. Rather, it is more of a philosophical and/or psychological work, something even movie buffs might not be able appreciate. Incidentally, I found Michael Zelniker's acting to be more than competent, especially in the way his character slowly degenerates throughout the course of the film, which "ends" in a perfect circle. I only recommend this film to those who actually have the ability to notice and appreciate subtlety and mentality that lies outside the norm. "Stuart Bliss" has given me a new influence and means of perception, not just in film, but in all art, and even life itself.
Review of Stuart Bliss
