Gloriously awful.

I tried to watch it once, but the Richard Beckinsale-shaped hole at the centre of it made it too depressing to finish.

A Christ-posed Vincent Gallo flies across the screen. As a 13 second film it (understandably) doesn't really add up to much, but watched on a loop for 7 minutes 36 seconds whilst listening to Melis László's Etude for Three Mirrors (1980) it proves sublime.

Empathetic and touching for the most part, but let down by a number of horribly misjudged dance sequences. The film-makers' camera really should have been distant, static, and dispassionate for these scenes. Instead, it was close, intimate, and dynamic. Consequently, the film made me feel almost complicit in its child sexualisation, rather than the sober witness that I'd prefer to have been. Ideally, the climactic dance contest wouldn't have shown any dancing at all, just the horrified reactions of the judges and audience.