Pistol Opera is the cinema, and the cinema is Pistol Opera. Equal parts disjointed dream, moving art gallery, maniacal raving and live-action theatre, Pistol Opera is the epitome of anti-entertainment: a film that is challenging to watch, and even harder to like. I'm still not sure what happened; all I know is that I was mesmerized from start to finish.

If all this sounds like so much semantic nonsense, you're partially right. I'm fumbling for the right words here, as I'm still baffled after last night's viewing of Pistol Opera. I'm not what you would call a film connoisseur, so it's extremely difficult for me to place Pistol Opera in the film universe, or to even begin to categorize it. Through a loosely linear progression of scenes, Pistol Opera tells the tale of No. 3 hit woman Miyuki (skillfully played by the quietly beautiful Makiko Esumi) as she eliminates her competition to ascend the ranks of her assassin guild. As her skill and fame increase, she herself becomes the target of unknown assailants, and becomes entangled with a little girl intent on becoming a killer like Miyuki.

Even at the ripe age of 78, Seijun Suzuki is still a master filmmaker. Not a single frame is wasted or used haphazardly; every single shot is carefully planned to maximize its impact. Travis Crawford probably described the film best, saying it "evolves through an increasingly fantastic series of vividly composed tableaux that resemble paintings which come to life." That's a wonderfully accurate description, as the film consists of stylized set pieces that more closely resemble moving paintings than traditional film. Through a downright mind-boggling use of color and unusual body motion, the film moves through a dream-like progression of fantastic visuals only tenuously based in reality. The result is hard to describe; it must be seen to be believed.

Pistol Opera is bizarre and wonderful, unsettling and engaging, hypnotizing and beautiful. It is a truly amazing cinematic experience, one which I'll likely not soon forget. It is an extremely intimate picture, and I'd like to view it in the privacy of my own home, free from the distractions of ringing cell phones, rustling popcorn bags and fat-faced ladies cackling like jackals. More than any other film I've seen at this year's festival, Pistol Opera is most decidedly a love-it-or-hate-it affair. I'm not surprised that it is rated poorly by festival goers, or that many people walked out during the screening. The film demands the most open and receptive of minds, and even then it challenges the viewer long after it has concluded.

Pistol Opera may be the single most unique film I've ever seen. I don't give out 5-star ratings readily, but this film earned my first 5-star approval on the post-screening ballot.

Thumbs Emphatically Up.