On the surface, Abruptio is a bizarre, grotesque, and seemingly nonsensical story: blood, puppets, and some unknown figure implanting bombs into everyone’s necks. But after the first fifteen minutes, it becomes clear the film wants to do much more than simply shock with its violence.
Les is a 35 y/o man who still lives with his parents. He leads a boring life, has a boring job, and his girlfriend has just left him. His hobby is playing “terrifying” video games (in his ex’s words), a detail that later helps explain the presence of certain science fiction elements within his delusions. On top of that, he has just decided to quit drinking. The film emphasizes his sobriety enough for us to notice that the withdrawal symptoms he should be experiencing are suspiciously absent.
From the very beginning, the film drops essential pieces needed to understand the story. They’re clear, they’re right there, and yet halfway through you still don’t know what to believe.
The decision to use puppets as a representation of a guilt ridden subconscious is brilliant. When you repress something strongly enough, you start convincing yourself you’re not in control, that what happened wasn’t your responsibility, that someone else forced you. It’s all the puppeteer’s fault. Fail to comply, and the bomb explodes.
The ending is wonderful. The final puzzle piece arrives in the form of a confusing flashback of a drunken Les committing a crime. That moment ties together every offense, every character, every fragment we were shown during his desperate attempt to survive. Everything falls into place inside the mind of someone who refuses to remember, and the experience fully transforms into something real, psychological horror.
The detail of Les turning human after confessing what he did is deeply moving. He finally frees himself from the strings controlling him. He accepts his sins. He defuses the bomb. He takes responsibility. He does something.
Because in the end, that’s the real problem: nobody does anything. We all look away and convince ourselves we’re not part of it.
"Everyone's a puppet"
On the surface, Abruptio is a bizarre, grotesque, and seemingly nonsensical story: blood, puppets, and some unknown figure implanting bombs into everyone’s necks. But after the first fifteen minutes, it becomes clear the film wants to do much more than simply shock with its violence.
Les is a 35 y/o man who still lives with his parents. He leads a boring life, has a boring job, and his girlfriend has just left him. His hobby is playing “terrifying” video games (in his ex’s words), a detail that later helps explain the presence of certain science fiction elements within his delusions. On top of that, he has just decided to quit drinking. The film emphasizes his sobriety enough for us to notice that the withdrawal symptoms he should be experiencing are suspiciously absent.
From the very beginning, the film drops essential pieces needed to understand the story. They’re clear, they’re right there, and yet halfway through you still don’t know what to believe.
The decision to use puppets as a representation of a guilt ridden subconscious is brilliant. When you repress something strongly enough, you start convincing yourself you’re not in control, that what happened wasn’t your responsibility, that someone else forced you. It’s all the puppeteer’s fault. Fail to comply, and the bomb explodes.
The ending is wonderful. The final puzzle piece arrives in the form of a confusing flashback of a drunken Les committing a crime. That moment ties together every offense, every character, every fragment we were shown during his desperate attempt to survive. Everything falls into place inside the mind of someone who refuses to remember, and the experience fully transforms into something real, psychological horror.
The detail of Les turning human after confessing what he did is deeply moving. He finally frees himself from the strings controlling him. He accepts his sins. He defuses the bomb. He takes responsibility. He does something.
Because in the end, that’s the real problem: nobody does anything. We all look away and convince ourselves we’re not part of it.
"Everyone's a puppet"
