Canary IQ Test
Sometime, back in 2000 or 2001, somebody sent me an email invitation to take an IQ test. It was a Saturday night. I had no plans. I was just sitting there burning time on the computer. So it seemed like a relatively interesting thing to do.
So, I registered on the site with my email address, and began answering questions.
I completed the first page of 20 assorted math, logic, and reasoning problems, clicked SUBMIT, and was taken to a second page.
"Huh," I thought. "I guess it's got fifty or sixty questions, then."
I completed 60 questions.
I completed 100 questions.
I completed 200 questions and 250. (I told you I had nothing else going on that night.)
Finally, after well over an hour and after 1020 questions, I decided that something was wrong with the quiz, and I abandoned it, cursing the amount of time I'd invested in the damn thing, and the absolute lack of payoff at the end.
A little over ten minutes after that, I received an email.
We'll pretend, for the sake of argument that I didn't spend the next 10 minutes vocally defending my perseverance to a computer which had no way of hearing my justifications. Because no one who isn't a total loser would do anything like that.
. . . Which brings us to the present. . . .
. . . And tonight, about 40 minutes into what, after an hour's reflection to make sure I wasn't rushing to judgement too quickly, I'm now certain is the very worst . . . movie . . . I've ever seen.
No disrespect to the director of Canary. I mean, for a low budget art movie, it seemed like an honest attempt. And really, the premise of an alternate reality film about a near future where human organs are leased out and repossessed is a novel and intriguing idea. That's certainly what we thought when browsing the Vancouver International Film Festival program selecting films to see. How could you go wrong with a premise like that? It should be interesting at least.
Sadly, interesting was exactly what this film was not. And I meant this as no exaggeration. The film consisted of a constantly rotating sequence of scenes based on the exact same variations:
1. Conversations between various groups of people, potential organ repo victims, often in foreign languages but with no subtitles, but even when in English about utterly mundane topics, and continuing for minutes at a time. We're talking very long sequences of 5, 6, 7 minutes of not understanding a damn thing what two or three characters are saying to each other. Even in the case of a German couple, where I could make out about half the dialogue, they were talking about their Christmas dinner, and whether they should get a goose and a French or Italian wine, and a Christmas tree. Yawn.
2. The even more vapid conversations of the office workers at Canary Industries. Starbucks coffee orders. Off-colour office jokes. What-are-you-doing-this-weekend smalltalk. Again, for 5, 6, 7 minutes straight. Yawn, yawn. If the point was the apathy of the corporate American world toward the behaviour of its organizations, point proved within seconds. No need to beat it into my skull.
3. Conversations between a group of journalists half-heartedly trying to expose Canary industries. This would have been the most interesting of the plotlines a) if there were actually a plot, and b) if they didn't spend 75% of the screentime bickering about their own office politics rather than doing anything.
4. Drawn-out, absolutely silent scenes of a mysterious, mute Canary repo agent stalking and/or mulling over unconscious repo victims. Again, for 5, 6, 7 minutes at a time.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I really wanted to be able to say, "Maybe I just didn't get it?"
But the thing is, I did get it.
I get that the big bad corporation used even the slightest pretense to go harvesting organs which allegedly weren't being properly treated.
I get that the staff members of the corporation were completely callous to their company's operations.
I get that the general public lead small and insignificant lives, beautiful and yet mundane, never knowing if or when the organ repo chick will strike.
I get that the North American consumer enjoys all kinds of perks at the expense of the non-English-speaking, non-white, or [gasp] even person next door sort of other human beings.
I get all that, and yet the movie was still the most egregious affront to my patience I've ever experienced. In fact, I feel insulted that the filmmaker felt that one or two minutes of a concept wasn't enough, and that twenty or thirty minutes (total) of it would be so much more moving.
During our screening of the film, about 20% of the audience got up and left.
I stayed, thinking maybe, MAYBE, there'd be some kind of payoff at the end.
Nope.
So, I registered on the site with my email address, and began answering questions.
I completed the first page of 20 assorted math, logic, and reasoning problems, clicked SUBMIT, and was taken to a second page.
"Huh," I thought. "I guess it's got fifty or sixty questions, then."
I completed 60 questions.
I completed 100 questions.
I completed 200 questions and 250. (I told you I had nothing else going on that night.)
Finally, after well over an hour and after 1020 questions, I decided that something was wrong with the quiz, and I abandoned it, cursing the amount of time I'd invested in the damn thing, and the absolute lack of payoff at the end.
A little over ten minutes after that, I received an email.
From: IQ Test
Subject: You finally quit! (or something like that — it's a memory)
So, you finally caught on! You lasted 1020 questions and 91 minutes before giving up. That gives you an IQ score of 61. Anyone smarter than you would have stopped answering questions long before you did.
We'll pretend, for the sake of argument that I didn't spend the next 10 minutes vocally defending my perseverance to a computer which had no way of hearing my justifications. Because no one who isn't a total loser would do anything like that.
. . . Which brings us to the present. . . .
. . . And tonight, about 40 minutes into what, after an hour's reflection to make sure I wasn't rushing to judgement too quickly, I'm now certain is the very worst . . . movie . . . I've ever seen.
No disrespect to the director of Canary. I mean, for a low budget art movie, it seemed like an honest attempt. And really, the premise of an alternate reality film about a near future where human organs are leased out and repossessed is a novel and intriguing idea. That's certainly what we thought when browsing the Vancouver International Film Festival program selecting films to see. How could you go wrong with a premise like that? It should be interesting at least.
Sadly, interesting was exactly what this film was not. And I meant this as no exaggeration. The film consisted of a constantly rotating sequence of scenes based on the exact same variations:
1. Conversations between various groups of people, potential organ repo victims, often in foreign languages but with no subtitles, but even when in English about utterly mundane topics, and continuing for minutes at a time. We're talking very long sequences of 5, 6, 7 minutes of not understanding a damn thing what two or three characters are saying to each other. Even in the case of a German couple, where I could make out about half the dialogue, they were talking about their Christmas dinner, and whether they should get a goose and a French or Italian wine, and a Christmas tree. Yawn.
2. The even more vapid conversations of the office workers at Canary Industries. Starbucks coffee orders. Off-colour office jokes. What-are-you-doing-this-weekend smalltalk. Again, for 5, 6, 7 minutes straight. Yawn, yawn. If the point was the apathy of the corporate American world toward the behaviour of its organizations, point proved within seconds. No need to beat it into my skull.
3. Conversations between a group of journalists half-heartedly trying to expose Canary industries. This would have been the most interesting of the plotlines a) if there were actually a plot, and b) if they didn't spend 75% of the screentime bickering about their own office politics rather than doing anything.
4. Drawn-out, absolutely silent scenes of a mysterious, mute Canary repo agent stalking and/or mulling over unconscious repo victims. Again, for 5, 6, 7 minutes at a time.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
I really wanted to be able to say, "Maybe I just didn't get it?"
But the thing is, I did get it.
I get that the big bad corporation used even the slightest pretense to go harvesting organs which allegedly weren't being properly treated.
I get that the staff members of the corporation were completely callous to their company's operations.
I get that the general public lead small and insignificant lives, beautiful and yet mundane, never knowing if or when the organ repo chick will strike.
I get that the North American consumer enjoys all kinds of perks at the expense of the non-English-speaking, non-white, or [gasp] even person next door sort of other human beings.
I get all that, and yet the movie was still the most egregious affront to my patience I've ever experienced. In fact, I feel insulted that the filmmaker felt that one or two minutes of a concept wasn't enough, and that twenty or thirty minutes (total) of it would be so much more moving.
During our screening of the film, about 20% of the audience got up and left.
I stayed, thinking maybe, MAYBE, there'd be some kind of payoff at the end.
Nope.
From: Canary
To: Matt
Subject: End Credits
You lasted 91 minutes. That gives you an IQ score of 61. Anyone smarter than you would have realized this movie was a hopeless waste of time long before you did.