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The scouts

Six composers in a mall sounds like a parody of high-art pretension, which is exactly why it works—the subversive joke is that the process itself, all that messy negotiation, becomes more interesting than the finished piece ever could be.

This is a film acutely aware of its place in the documentary-as-process tradition, where the real subject is collaboration itself; the formal restraint of watching six voices argue toward consensus feels like a deliberate riposte to the auteur myth.

The decision to film this inside a shopping mall—that mundane, anti-concert-hall setting—is what makes the entire premise sing; suddenly you're watching high art collide with fluorescent banality, and the friction is everything.