As a teacher, I'm routinely forced into situations where I feel hopeless and utterly trapped. Surrounded by strange people and screaming on the inside, it can get pretty desperate, if not altogether lonely.
And that's just in the faculty meetings.
A few years back, in one of these moderately inspired 'professional development' situations (likely the result of someone freshly Googling How to have a fun meeting!), my colleagues and I were handed a box of what appeared to be leftover scrap-booking pieces. Random shapes of various sizes, sea and farm animals, and of course, a shit-ton of bubble letters made of foam, were all cascaded indiscriminately in front of us. The directions? Make something that represents you and your educational philosophy.
With a limited supply of glitter glue, a 3 x 5 foam rectangle and all the feigned enthusiasm a thirty-three year old man could muster, I arted-and-crafted three simple words:
Respect the story.
And it's with those three words in mind that I tell you, quite sincerely, I f--king loathed the Bitcoin-funded Aimy in a Cage. Contacted by a member of the production company's public relations department for a review, I went in to this experimental film with an open mind and no bullshit, wanting to like it. Clearly, we're pretty small-time around these parts, so the fact that I could help anyone with anything would have been pretty f--king rad. But, alas, that wasn't the case.
And it wasn't even close.
Set in some weird mishmash of time periods, and during a mysterious world-ending outbreak, Aimy in a Cage tells the intimate tale of one young girl's struggle to fit in. No, it's not like Aimy is a tomboy in a house full of debutantes (anything that straightforward need not apply), no, she's just a vastly different kind of crazy than anyone else is. What exactly that means is anyone's guess, as the 79-minute runtime is composed of nothing but strange images, irritating f--kers and a cinematic record for shouting. And screeching. And impromptu dancing.
