M Kitchell’s review published on Letterboxd:
I'm always fascinated by architecture that implies it's holding a secret: a monolithic, windowless structure certainly qualifies as such. The implication is always far more interesting than the reality: collecting info for the NSA is not surprising, and while it's certainly insidious, in 2018 it's hard to find it shocking. The complacency comes by way of late-capitalism, and any time you see someone getting publicly upset about this so-called "invasion of privacy" (see also the latest regarding Facebook), I have to wonder how it is they're so concerned with this and seemingly little else (how easy is your life that in 2018 your primary concern is that Facebook is reading your text messages?). Outrage is, of course, all mostly performative at this point in time, as if to give it up would be the final nail in the coffin of remembering what it means to be human. Of course it's dystopian that the government is literally privvy to most of our personal information, but it seems like anyone who stays "on the grid" is more or less willing to sacrifice a private interior in exchange for whatever machinations of the late-capitalist impulse are dominant, whether it be targeted ads that lead to you buying a product you didn't know existed but decided you need or even just the ability to purchase literally anything from Amazon and have it arrive at your doorstep two days later: all of this information only exists to fuel capital.
With all that said, I quite enjoyed this 10 minute short, and the reason is that it almost never relents, cinematically, on movement. The camera as data; the music tells us something is wrong, the repeatedly redacted words and nouns of the document tell us we're still missing something, but the camera never lets us forget that all of this information never stops moving.