It’s a little absurd to boil this filmic fugue state down to a bare-bones narrative, but here we go: AFFE follows a young, potentially psychopathic man called Skippy (played by Trecartin) who locks himself in bathroom while his friends have a party, tells his parents he is gay, goes outside, becomes the subject of a documentary, gets run over by a car and is magically resurrected by a group sing-along before a round of fireworks. These plot coordinates create a loose framework for forty-two minutes of playful, schizoid imagery and wildly gestural performance, a film that masquerades as surrealist autobiography while dramatising a complex debate about the possibility of belonging.
One may ask if there is some merit to this, artistically, if considered to be an experiment in creating an insufferable, obnoxious piece. However, there does not seem to be a point to this beyond that. It felt like a waste of time. Sure, it's impossible to sit through without curling into a fetal position begging for the horrific imagery to go away, and no other work I have witnessed has achieved that. But I don't know anyone who would want to sit through that, let alone enjoy it. Some art can be difficult to enjoy, yes. But I don't see it in this case as a factor of how much the viewer thinks about it, but rather how little.
The characters include a flock of face-painted horrors, screaming nonsense at the camera, and various other colorful crazies. Trecartin uses a myriad of image-processing effects to achieve his goal (I think) of creating a convoluted, visually confusing mess of a piece. There is no cohesion, there is no plot, but that is not to its detriment. It would almost be laughably terrible if it attempted to tell a comprehensible story. But no, A Family Finds Entertainment seeks only to expose you to this world of horrors. It is a forty-minute view into a hellish place that may have once been inhabited by humans, but no longer.