SHARMA’S “ECHO BLOOM”: TWO HOURS WASTED.

“Echo Bloom”: A Cinematic Void Disguised as Art

Let’s be clear: “Echo Bloom,” the latest offering from director Anya Sharma, isn’t bad. It’s worse. It’s profoundly, aggressively empty. Two hours and thirty-seven minutes of glacial pacing, pretentious symbolism, and characters thinner than tracing paper. Honestly, I’ve encountered more compelling narratives scribbled on bathroom stalls.

The premise, ostensibly, is about a lighthouse keeper (played with a monotonous drone by Elias Vance) grappling with… something. Loss? Existential dread? The proper way to polish a Fresnel lens? It’s never explicitly stated. We’re meant to infer. We’re meant to project our own emotional baggage onto this vacant shell of a protagonist. I refuse. I pay for a story, not a Rorschach test.

Sharma clearly aspires to Tarkovsky, but achieves only a diluted, self-indulgent imitation. Long, lingering shots of crashing waves and windswept grass are visually… fine. But visual competence doesn’t equate to meaningful storytelling. The dialogue consists largely of cryptic pronouncements and pregnant pauses. It's less conversation and more performance art for people who enjoy feeling intellectually superior while actively being bored.

The supporting cast fares no better. Each character is introduced, given a single defining trait (the grieving widow, the mysterious sailor, the overly enthusiastic birdwatcher), and then promptly forgotten. They exist solely to orbit the protagonist’s ennui, offering the occasional vaguely profound utterance before disappearing back into the fog.

And the ending? Don’t even ask. It’s a non-ending, a shrug disguised as artistic ambiguity. A final shot of the lighthouse beam sweeping across the ocean, presumably symbolizing… something. I suspect Sharma believes she’s crafted a masterpiece of atmospheric resonance. I maintain it’s a cinematic black hole, sucking the life out of anyone unfortunate enough to wander within its gravitational pull.

Save your money. Read a book. Stare at a wall. Anything would be a more productive use of your time. “Echo Bloom” isn't art. It's an exercise in cinematic vanity. And frankly, it’s insulting.

Rating: One star. (And that's being generous.)