ife is so tough in the big city that our hero has to run a gauntlet of assailants just walking to work. Once there, blasé urban hipsters drop philosophical bombshells like cigarette ashes on a carpet. A leather-jacketed artiste of some sort or another, his figure endures the perils of fame, from glib arse-kissers to critics who throw literal punches instead of derogatory adjectives. Its absurdity peaking in a ballet of slo-mo slapstick, this very funny, distinctively Hal Hartley short weighs the value of ambition. Its verdict? Meh. - Dennis Harvey