After all, why cinema? Because of blur, camera shake, framing, characters followed and spied on from behind? That feeling is decidedly too simple, too obvious: a captured movement, a momentary stillness, suspense, the tension of a gesture about to resume, bodies frozen mid-motion by the shot. But in what way do these images, blurred, brushed, scratched, dust-covered by the tremor, of some forty years, refer back to cinema at all, when cinema itself strains toward the sharp, the still, the smooth?