Portugal. The Man drives around the city in a red car. A shadow follows the car on the pavement. John looks out the passenger side window and sings. On top of the car, the oversized female puppet’s wrinkled hands and sneakers balances itself on the car, creating a shadow. The puppet’s head tilts and its foot scrapes the road.
They pass through a suburban neighborhood and perform figure eights in a factory parking lot. A white car, with a male puppet on top wearing a security shirt, speeds towards the band’s car. The puppets glare at one another.
They drive underneath the awning of the building, the security car behind them. However, the security car blocks them at the end. They drive in reverse and head to the left, sailing over some blocks. The security car skids and stops at the blocks.
They exit the parking lot and drive on the main road. John stares at the buildings one more time.
The grotesque puppets, soulless and wrinkled, are bitter, middle-aged people left behind in a declining suburban neighborhood. The female puppet, though, seems to have some humanity in her. She’s defiant and railing against whatever she can as she tries to get by. She has stopped caring, though and realizes she may never get out of the neighborhood. Due to gender and age, she won’t progress any further. All her skills and potential are unfulfilled, wasted at a menial job.
The male security puppet is a monster, resenting his several decades younger supervisor. He enforces every rigid rule to the letter and searches for leverage in every interaction at work. His superiors have hinted at him to retire. He hates coming in every day but stays out of spite.
The female puppet agitates him. He chases her throughout the empty parking lot. It’s a Sunday and all the employees are off in the building. Except for him and he wants the female puppet to pay.
Director: Aaron Brown Year: 2017