Boredom has it’s own pace, it’s own musical dance step. Through the orchestration of these non-movements it can gain a momentum of its own, and played just right, done just right, the level of boredom can immerse us in the complex mechanization of the mundane of the everyday. In the minutia of movements comes an expansion of humanity, a listing, a pattern of existing itself, so that even the most cumbersome sequences become fraught with the echoes of complexity.
Take for instance the movie House of the Devil. Most of this movie is a pendulum of nothingness. Her motions swing, back and forth, gain momentum as she tries to combat entropy, but in trying to fight entropy she succeeds only succumbing to it.
Of course, in this movie there is a frame to the viewing experience. You go in knowing that this (this) is a horror movie (and true, right before the onslaught of boredom there is a graphic scene of violence), and because of that, these empty moments exist not in frustration of the audience becoming bored and instead create a tension, where in every second you want something to happen, someone to die, something nasty to jump out of the shadows.
But nothing, nothing, nothing. This boredom rackets up tension. But is this only because of the frame of the narrative? If the watcher does not go in expecting horror, would it carry the same imperative rhythm, the same movement and tensions?
Maybe not. But I still think that boredom and the fight against ennui has in its very nature a beat, a dancing motion, that can carry it forward, keeping it moving forward, like a rolling ball.