Sometimes I Think About Things, and Sometimes I Get Sad

The film, marked by its sombre palette, is essentially a quiet, unrushed conversation that the protagonist is having with the viewer. As it comes into its own, the tone continues to grow in intimacy, imbuing the film with honesty and candour, thereby making its subject matter universal.

The protagonist takes you along the circuitous route of his introspection as well as his interactions with the world without - invoking ideas of existentialism, nihilism, isolation, loneliness, and the manner in which he is located amidst this ongoing tussle between the several forces of consciousness.

The film is a solo-project, and thus very evidently exhibits a consistency of vision and progression with regards to the narrative. Finally, it closes with the image of a fragment of a broken bridge, the entire structure destroyed. And yet, the protagonist continues with his work on a computer, as if his immediate reality is not a sight of immense destruction and upheaval, as if nothing has happened, for despite everything else, it is something to do, it is one more stab at making loneliness or simply existence, less overwhelming a proposition. He is flanked by two of his loyal companions (his past selves? emotional baggages?) who never leave his side, who now continue to work at the concrete and stone structure with their equipment, leaving you with the resounding question - are they rebuilding it or taking it down further?