Solitude, the big killer

You'll probably need a long, stiff drink after "Animals" -- that's provided that you can last until the sad, sad ending. I foresee a lot of people not being able to take it anymore and leaving halfway through to go look for a bar.

This isn't to say that "Animals" is a "bad" movie. It simply defies all categorization and remains what it is: one hell of a downer. Think of it as a drug experience that leaves you profoundly depressed and radically calm. And if you're wondering why the title is what it is, "animals" refer to the circus creatures of old, people like "Crocodile Girl," "The Two-Faced Toad" and "Penguin Boy," all of whom show up in painted posters but are rarely seen for real. See, already you're very confused and very thirsty.

Writer/director Michael Di Jiacomo made many award-winning short films in New York before deciding to come out with this feature debut. Fortunately, he had the support of Tim Roth who, besides playing the main character, helped with the dialogue and stayed on for postproduction. (And then he went off to make a film of his own.) The result is what can only be described as substance-induced poetry -- a long string of images that lodge themselves in the brain and haunt your subway daydreaming.