The Wayward Cloud is a frustrating film to watch. Infuriatingly enigmatic, it treats each shot like a work of art. You get the impression that the composition of each shot has been designed and prepared with a degree of exquisite care that borders on obsession; Expressing how far cinema has progressed since the very first films were cranked out in the nineteenth century and mimicking their construction, the camera here hardly ever moves  apart from during the camp and colourful musical numbers. Ambient noise is kept to a minimum and barely a word is spoken. This curious but effective device forces the audience to focus their attention on visual stimuli alone so that, even as the story progresses at a snail-like pace we feel ourselves becoming immersed. Unfortunately, for me at least, this immersion begins to unravel somewhere around the hour mark. I began to feel as if the film was challenging me to keep watching while becoming more difficult as the minutes dragged so that the mere act of watching became a battle of wills.<br /><br />Had the content of this film not been as sexual as it is it would no doubt been even more obscure to Western audiences. As it is, there's an abundance of female nudity and an act of sexual abuse on an unconscious (or possibly dead) woman that is so repugnant that, while it may speak volumes about the degradation to which pornography subjects both men and women (the users and the used) it is so over-zealous in the manner in which it chooses to make its point as to effectively render it ineffective. Of course the worst and most enthusiastic participants of the explosion in available pornographic content will seek this film out for all the wrong reasons and watch it with their sticky finger on the fast-forward button of the remote.<br /><br />For all its problems, the film is definitely a stayer, and the more you think about it the more sense certain aspects of it seem to make. Ironically, for a film in which so little happens, the viewer would probably be proportionately rewarded by watching a second or even third time. For me, however, once was enough