It is 3:55 when we first see what time it is, on the iPhone that has detected motion outside. It is the middle of the night, but things have hardly been quiet, all the sounds become magnified in the dark anyway and not just because they are being recorded: the horn of the passing train, the gurgle of the swimming pool filter, the autumn leaves scratching across the tarmac. Considering how late it is, a surprising number of people are still up, the couple in the car, the old lady in the armchair on the phone, the boy who applies make-up before slipping out of the house on roller skates; the song to which the police officer does press-ups is right, a lot of people do not rest enough. The camera caresses these suburban spaces, and they feel so familiar, like the American films we watched as teenagers, at once banal and strangely ominous, knick-knacks in cabinets, quivering chandeliers, a cluttered cellar, the sword on the rack. But this is not a horror film, it is more like a shared dream, whereby the dreamers dream not of cinema but of its individual pieces, and everyone is drawn to the same place. And that is what we see in the very first image: the head of corn in the mud.

当我们睡着的时候，怪事发生了。现在是半夜，但一切并不平静，所有的声音在黑暗中都被放大了：路过的火车的喇叭声、游泳池过滤器的潺潺声、秋叶划过柏油路的声音。考虑到现在已经很晚了，令人惊讶的是很多人还没睡，车里的夫妇，扶手椅上打电话的老太太，穿着旱冰鞋溜出家门前化妆的男孩......导演的镜头抚摸着这片郊区，凝结着超日常。但这不是一部恐怖片，它更像是一个共同的梦，做梦的人不是梦见电影，而是梦见电影每一个具体的人和物，每个人都被吸引到同一个地方，也恰好是我们在第一个画面中看到的：泥地里的的玉米头。