THE WORST FILM IN THE FESTIVAL

What happens if you remove all your clothes to throw logic, sense, and the narrative out of the window? Poetic nudes. Naked poetry. The Worst Film at the Festival bares these synecdochic fragments to deconstruct the haiku, the sonnet, and the villanelle. A group of strangers from different parts of this post-pandemic planet dare to make a feature film in 3 1/2 days without a script, without a budget, and without fear! Finally erasing the line between documentary and fiction, this whatchamacallit hybrid of mongrels guarantees to expand your 3-pound brain without side effects or hangovers. Or sextuple your money back!