The volcanoes, separated only by thousands of feet of parched landmass, all began to tremble and heave violently. Before any evasive maneuvers could be taken, rock and brush began to tumble and toss from the lower inclines as the cones initiated some inexplicable magnetic attraction to one another. Just as The End was foreseen, molten rocks shot out at impossible speeds, and before anything could be recorded and inserted into some doomed-to-remain-unpublished History of the Apocalypse, the flaming objects met just above the skyline.
This wasn’t death, though, this was birth. The rocks froze and split in mid-air, revealing a crystalline interior that acted as a jacket, blanketing an unseeable force within. The object fell and skidded into the dirt like a messenger from Krypton. Now visible, a figure stood up from the pluming smoke clouds and held out his right hand, signifying this land as his.
We now know this being as “Kojiro Abe,” a filmmaker sent from the bizarre reaches of space in an effort to enlighten our small brains and lend a sense of urgency to the stagnating creative mind. He brought us rewired fables dislocated from our own reality, punishingly honest micro-studies on our underwater worlds, and scripts that our most brilliant man-scientists have yet to fully unravel.
He currently resides in a life of humility, and has aged 19 of our primitive Earth years. When he’s not deciphering man’s pitiful secrets in the time it takes you to fart, he is releasing a constant stream of ground-breaking work.
I bring you his latest teaser: LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD.
Look for the full film in late August, but do not try to understand its peculiarities, for to you they are the Sphinx’s very riddles; to him, a gnat’s shit’s fly’s bacteria.