Blurred Times

About This Movie

Blurred Times feels like a peek into someone’s personal universe, crafted from fleeting moments and snippets that are more suggestive than explicit. It's not a traditional narrative, but rather a collage of experiences, punctuated by the presence of intriguing figures like Steve Dalachinsky and John Zorn. The pacing can be erratic, which actually enhances its charm—like flipping through an old scrapbook. You get a sense of nostalgia, a bit of unease, and a rawness that’s often absent in polished works. The characters, even in passing, have a weight to them that lingers, and there's this undeniable atmosphere that feels like a diary you weren’t meant to see.

Blurred Times is a bit of an enigma in the collector's realm, with its origin shrouded in mystery. Formats seem varied, and while it may not have mainstream recognition, that only adds to its allure for collectors who appreciate the unconventional. The scarcity of physical copies, along with its experimental nature, intrigues those interested in the avant-garde and personal cinema. There's definitely a niche audience that values its distinctive approach.