Flicks, Aaron Yap
The location atmosphere is thick, anxious, pregnant with foreboding. The ocean undulates in the distance, threatening to devour the protagonists whole like some abyssal Lovecraftian gut. The stench of flatulence and boozy bodily fluid fill every damp crevasse of their creaky quarters. As the clockwork drudgery grows increasingly absurd in its endlessness, the glowing, omniscient lamp they’re toiling to keep running becomes an inexplicable vortex of arcane mystery, enchantment and discontent.
Full review
