Maybe I am not an intellectual fella who ain't cool enuff to dig the underlying meaning but I have enjoyed Abel Ferrara's few films.

This movie is a boredom filled with unnecessary dark, grimy n surrealistic photography and a pinch of headache inducing shaky cam stuff.

The director Abel Ferrara played Reno Miller, an artist who is slowly descending into madness in the cult movie Driller Killer.

Well, in this movie the symptoms of madness is all over n Ethan Hawke too seems to be suffering from folie a deux.

Just know that this is a film about a guy running around a city. There is no real action, it's certainly not sci-fi in any conceivable way and it is an adventure only in the sense that you are watching it.

The film begins and ends with Ethan Hawke, the actor, talking to the audience about the film. The first part is "I love Abel Ferrara and we are trying to make this film" and the last part is "When I got the script to this I didn't get it and now, after I watched the film and you watched the film, no one gets it". In between lies the movie, a seemingly random mix of scenes filmed in grainy low detail, with unfocused shots, featuring people without names that do random things. I know Ferrara had a grand vision for what the film is saying, but I assure you you won't understand what that was. If you search the web for explanations of the film, they are mostly interpretations of what Ethan Hawke says at the end, not of what happened in the movie.

In that sense, this is true art: I made it, you either like it or hate it, I don't care!

But this is also why this film deserves its low rating. It doesn't care. It's not a communication, where one has to take care the message is both received and understood, it's the mad ramblings of homeless people, the rantings of political figures, that friend who won't shut up and interrupts everyone to talk about themselves, the avantgarde painting of spread feces where you have to believe there is a beautiful painted woman underneath because the artist says so. It's a monologue, a stream of consciousness with which you might resonate, but never truly comprehend. Perhaps this is one of those films that are better on LSD? Who knows.

Bottom line: Spewing out thoughts and perceptions without any structure or care of your audience is not art, it's vomiting. Some might enjoy it, for their own reasons, but that's all it is.