Frankenstein begins the march to his death machine.
The open floors of the Chet Holifield building weren’t all this well-lit in my experience. But then again, I spent most of my time in the stacks on the bottom floor, amongst seven-foot-high shelving units, so light was often in short supply. But I do love the use of existing sites to conjure an imaginary future, which happens a lot in low-budget films, where they don’t have bajillions of dollars to ensure that the auteur’s precious vision is entirely realized. Sometimes you’re forced to improvise, and from that, you can squeeze out sparks of greatness.