He who ate the eye of a fish

The scouts

Saey builds a fully inverted moral universe where consumption becomes philosophy and disgust is the only honest response — it's the kind of premise that makes you question why more filmmakers aren't this willing to be genuinely repulsive in service of something.

The film's lineage traces through Buñuel and early Švankmajer, but Saey's control of pacing and visual metaphor feels too slippery for easy canonization; it resists the formal rigor that would make it a programmatic natural.

The decision to keep the protagonist anonymous and let the grotesque imagery do all narrative work forces the sound design to carry emotional weight it shouldn't have to — and it somehow does, which is the only reason this 9 minutes doesn't dissolve into pure provocation.