At its best, this plays like a hellish, social-realist reinvention of some fantasy quest.
But then something horrible happened: for, like, ten hellish minutes, I was totally stuck.
It's like a hellish remake of Matisse's Bonheur de Vivre.
I've stared at it for 23 minutes now, and it looks like some hellish eternity, with Harriott cast as a multiple-headed intergalactic god.
The story is a brief sketch, in the grimly Gothic style of Edgar Allen Poe, about the titular demonic superman who comes out of Egypt to chill the blood of the storyteller and his friends; it's full of beautiful, empty phrases like "the hellish moon-glitter of evil snows" and "the sightless vortex of the unimaginable".
Crunching them all together into a single user account looked like a hellish task which wouldn't be welcomed by users Skype is a consumer brand, but traded on its "upstart" nature; trying to monetise it too rapidly or thoroughly would turn people off.
As Leon Wieseltier, the literary editor of The New Republic, once told me: "She's never going to get out of our faces.... She's like some hellish housewife who has seen something that she really, really wants and won't stop nagging you about it until finally you say, fine, take it, be the damn president, just leave me alone".
The two pieces link back to each other like a hellish, mongo-pushing Ouroboros.
Zürn controls the helm like a hellish little conductor of black symphonics, from which even the act of creation is no release.
What feels like a hellish eternity is actually just over two hours, reminding you just how much cinema can eclipse your sense of time.
