Anatomy of a Holiday
Death to Dacula, Georgia, America. A scraped-clean subdivision, a man reads ‘White Noise’ in a sewer and snickers at the trumped-up 1980s fears of television’s insidious invasion into the home. If that was all that we had to ward off from this manmade landscape of damp sand and pine seedlings this would be utopia. Spiders and the susurrus of dry grass carved out of an oak and pine woods. Fine threads of grass retaliate from the sand, sewage rough-ins tumbledown and big quartz stones glimmer when knelt to. It is the fulcrum day of spring to summer temperatures. In a week this ruin of recent concrete curbs will be inhospitable. The spiders will dig holes. The grass drops away just past the curb. These houses would have had basements.
Follow the trail of decrepitude and rotting alive ciphers.
Presented in ‘Mother’s Day’ (the Troma one) theatrical aspect ratio.