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How can somebody be making large-scale documentaries on the BBC for four decades and still be treated as essentially an underground filmmaker? I keep asking otherwise attuned people if they’ve aware of Adam Curtis, eager to stumble across a single other being who shares my wonder at what he’s accomplished, yet always come up empty. After a while, it creates a Carnival of Souls kind of alienation, as if Curtis and his films exist in some parallel world where he just can’t be perceived. 

If, for whatever reason, you’re unfamiliar with Rotten Tomatoes, it’s probably best described as the pop culture equivalent of radon—a colorless, odorless, and tasteless gas that doesn’t directly kill you but which decays into radioactive metals that cause lung cancer. A more charitable though less evocative description would be that it’s a review aggregator that takes film critiques written by a 

(reviews coming soon)

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