Cats. Dilapidated houses. Outsider art. Peter Anton.
That is about it. This film is endearing, but emotionless. It is hard to swallow, but even-keeled.
Half-way through the film I began praying, asking God why I have no emotional pull to the characters before my eyes.
Nothing. The filmmakers get overly involved and I do not. Somehow by the directors pouring their hearts into the man in front of the camera any ability or desire I have to be grabbed and connect to the situation is limited or deadened by the sufficient personal connections given by the film makers.
I wanted to connect. I wanted to have some emotion.
Maybe it is because the man, Peter, reminds me of another man I know who lives in Columbia, revealing some hardness of heart in me?
Still, there was nothing.
It is a solid film, well-produced and the music and graphic design is fitting to the eccentric artwork produced by Peter Anton.
But I will forget this film.
Except for one thing: Peter’s schedule of the 20+ cats that sat on his lap and how many hours for each. As a scientist I appreciate his commitment to observation.