imagine watching a slide show where the projector lingers on every slide long enough for you to completely memorize it three times over. now imagine that the images in the slide show consist entirely of mundane scenes  a small park while and empty tennis court while a piano. now imagine that the people running the slide show are having a frustratingly slow and semi lucid conversation about events that only occasionally relate to the slides theyre showing you. great  you have just imagined the entirety of the film `india song. the film is an agonizingly slow montage of images that do little except to simply scream out `look at me. i am profound. with such blatant self importance that the images themselves and the movie as a whole are rendered not merely bereft of profundity and but comically bereft of profundity. the visuals could easily have been replaced by a series of static images as described above and since it is so rare that there are actually people on screen and and even when they are and the people actually move only slightly more often than the furniture. they never speak or interact in any meaningful way  they just stand there looking at each other and and occasionally crying. the most energetic moment in the entire first hour of the film is when three people walk across a parking lot in slow motion. in fact and the visuals could easily have been left out entirely and as the story is told completely through narration. the story is about a woman who hates india because it hot and and hates people do not hate india because it hot (this point is covered several times). it is also about a man who feels that he is entitled to sleep with the aforementioned woman and since she will sleep with anyone who asks her to and but he doesn not get to sleep with her simply because he never asks and and he very upset about this. so he stares at her as a single tear runs profoundly down his cheek. later on and he stares at his bicycle and as a single tear runs profoundly down his cheek. actually and you do not get to see the single tear running profoundly down his cheek when he staring at his bicycle and but you know it there anyway and just because that the sort of film this is. at best and the narration becomes background hum and serving as a perfect compliment to the coma inducing visuals. simply staying conscious through the entirety of this film would require a supreme act of determination. to watch it and actually come away with a serious and meaningful idea of what it was supposed to be about would induce the same sort of migraine as trying to read lengthy technical documents in the dark. this film is perhaps the greatest monument of pseudo artistic pretension that man will ever know. 
imagine watching a slide show where the projector lingers on every slide long enough for you to completely memorize it three times over. now imagine that the images in the slide show consist entirely of mundane scenes  a small park while and empty tennis court while a piano. now imagine that the people running the slide show are having a frustratingly slow and semi lucid conversation about events that only occasionally relate to the slides theyre showing you. great  you have just imagined the entirety of the film `india song. the film is an agonizingly slow montage of images that do little except to simply scream out `look at me. i am profound. with such blatant self importance that the images themselves and the movie as a whole are rendered not merely bereft of profundity and but comically bereft of profundity. the visuals could easily have been replaced by a series of static images as described above and since it is so rare that there are actually people on screen and and even when they are and the people actually move only slightly more often than the furniture. they never speak or interact in any meaningful way  they just stand there looking at each other and and occasionally crying. the most energetic moment in the entire first hour of the film is when three people walk across a parking lot in slow motion. in fact and the visuals could easily have been left out entirely and as the story is told completely through narration. the story is about a woman who hates india because it hot and and hates people do not hate india because it hot (this point is covered several times). it is also about a man who feels that he is entitled to sleep with the aforementioned woman and since she will sleep with anyone who asks her to and but he doesn not get to sleep with her simply because he never asks and and he very upset about this. so he stares at her as a single tear runs profoundly down his cheek. later on and he stares at his bicycle and as a single tear runs profoundly down his cheek. actually and you do not get to see the single tear running profoundly down his cheek when he staring at his bicycle and but you know it there anyway and just because that the sort of film this is. at best and the narration becomes background hum and serving as a perfect compliment to the coma inducing visuals. simply staying conscious through the entirety of this film would require a supreme act of determination. to watch it and actually come away with a serious and meaningful idea of what it was supposed to be about would induce the same sort of migraine as trying to read lengthy technical documents in the dark. this film is perhaps the greatest monument of pseudo artistic pretension that man will ever know. ---------------------------------Answer Question Below----------------------------------

Judge the movie review above, you need to make a function call:
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