There’s a great stupidity to Orange, directed by Ruben Giuliani. Yet from that very stupidity, the movie gains its power. It collects stupidity in Howard Hughes-esque piss jars and throws them all in your face at once. If that sounds like a sensational way to describe it, that’s because it is. This movie is one-minute long, and I have a lot of space to fill here.
Orange features a blurry boy in a straw hat, dressed for church, a funeral, or whatever it is that kiddos are held down and dressed up for. In front of him are a knife, an orange, and a book. But the book proves to be unimportant. The boy starts peeling the orange, only to find the inside to be unappealing. If only he could un-peel it. Naturally, he jumps ship, as there will be other oranges. But this causes the fruit to drop to its proverbial knees and beg to be eaten. Getting chewed up and ingested for an orange is not death, but fulfillment.
“The boy starts peeling the orange, only to find the inside to be unappealing…this causes the fruit to drop to its proverbial knees and beg to be eaten.”
There’s nothing sadder than a life spent growing on a tree, being picked, riding in a truck from one side of the country to the other, purchased in a supermarket, only to be left rotting on a kitchen counter because your insides don’t meet the standards of an adolescent. To be singled-out every step of the way, then brushed aside at the last second. Yes, the orange talks.
Does the boy succumb to the orange’s wishes, or is the orange cast-off to produce hell? Only by spending one minute of your life watching Orange can you find out. In case it’s not clear, this is not a serious movie. The movie is a one-minute gag that, somehow, made me laugh at the end of it. As for the tone of the laugh—snicker, scoff, chortle, or one of those dismissive, deflating sounds—I can’t say for sure, but it still counts. Plus, there’s something admirable about front-facing stupidity. It’s not accidental as if the movie is reaching for a grand statement and falls on its face. It sticks out its hand, says, “nice to meet you, I’m stupid. And you are?”
Should you watch Orange? Would you buy a yo-yo for a nickel? It’s five cents; it’s one minute! What have you got to lose? What else would you do with that minute? You can’t do anything worthwhile in a minute, except maybe clip your toenails, but who wants to do that? If you wear shoes enough, the toenails get tired of pushing and stop growing. That’s only a hypothesis right now, but the control trials are underway.
"…collects stupidity in Howard Hughes-esque piss jars and throws them all in your face at once."
