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Mark navigates the infinite night and its obscure corners, searching for the next prostitute that will spend the hour with him. However, when he arrives at the usual street, he ascertains that the woman entering the car is dissimilar – Mark has never obtained her services before. During the lengthy driving, the man and the woman barely converse, except for a few sarcastic remarks to Mark's naive questions. After everything is done, Mark pays the prostitute a significant amount, yet a lot lingers unspoken, and the night hasn't yet come to the darkest before sunrise.

Crossroads is a puzzling story that aims to stay minimalistic in every aspect of the term, from dramaturgy to accomplishment. Many things are intentionally open to interpretation, which gives the film a re-watch preference. Eleven minutes pass in a flash, and we are surprised to apprehend the tense atmosphere that keeps us devotedly attached to the screen.

The film throws clues here and there, and the observer must pay careful attention not to miss anything. The very first scene is crucial – Mark speaks to Laura over the phone, which we feel to be his significant other as the events unfold. Then, the woman notices the wallpaper on Mark's phone – a picture of a child. These two clues are vital for the context. When we learn that Mark frequents the streets because he can’t outrun his past and come to terms with a much deeper conflict, we unlock the film’s potential and interpret the subtexts.

Crossroads is a fascinating painting of unbearable solitude and sadness in its most innocent form. The black screen serves as an ellipsis. In those quick passages that intensify the unsettling tone, we pray for the characters to redeem and spare each other from the impending destruction.

The filmmakers involved in the project make the best out of a professedly simplistic dramatic situation. The way Crossroads is filmed and produced shows how the artists are skillful and confident in playing with film language, its grammar and theory, all while breaking the conventional narratives. Every scene has a diverse genuine composition, and there's explicit contrast between the interior and exterior shots. The car is continuously in movement in the exposition and catharsis, as a juxtaposing of the actors who have restricted activities yet display their internal conflicts through body language and provide quite convincing performances.

Moreover, Crossroads is an excellent example of how the sound is married to the picture and how music composing doesn't indicate overstating tones, vibrations and instruments. It's the contrary – the music subtly prevails throughout the film, only to become authoritative in the climax. The music communicates with the audience throughout the end credits. The ending shot is open to interpretation – Mark won't heal from the wounds and will continue aching in another situation comparable to this one.

Granted, Crossroads is a collaborative effort. The results are gratifying – from the cinematography, directing and editing, music, makeup, and coloring. We are correct to say that we expect many great things from these talented filmmakers in the near future.


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