THE LOVE SONG OF J. ALFRED PRUFROCK. THE MOVIEEDIT

T.S. Eliot's seminal poem "The love song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is one of the most influential poems of the XX century. Sheer mastery of the writing and delightful inspired imagery caused tectonic changes in a landscape of English language poetry. It is fair to say that Prufrock is a kind of a blueprint of a full-fledged hardcore modernist poetry. It is filled with various techniques and uncanny tricks that make the reading constantly exciting.
It is about aforementioned Mr. Prufrock who muses and muses on such gratifying topics as nature of existence and casualties caused by the fallacies of a weakling will. While the narrative acts like it is inside something that structurally must be a dream but is not.
Many people truly, madly, deeply appreciate this poem. Even Ern Malley co-conspirators loved it. You can find dozens and dozens of various interpretations of it. From straightforward reading to far more conceptually sophisticated. Prufrock is the ultimate thought-provocateur. It was performed in every possible way. And now you can see it adapted into a short film subject made by Daniel Henshall (who played the lead and wrote the script) and director Laura Scrivano.

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The film itself is fairly straightforward adaptation of a poem blended with impressionistic imagery. It tells a story of a protagonist who wanders through a night city looking for something to make sense of his life while feeling extremely lonely, probably wrecked, possibly wretched, certainly confused. All while reciting parts of Prufrock as his own internal monologue. Consider this to be a tonal poem of sorts.
It looks nice and has a certain raw feel in several moments (although soiled by the overall niceness of the picture). But overall it is nothing more than just an advanced piece of video poetry. And that is not a compliment. The funniest thing about the film is that the Prufrock reciting is completely unnecessary for the film. It is the film's fatal flaw that considerably deflates it.
The poem, while serving as a source for the story is abundant to the films narrative. It prevents the film from getting on its own feet, leaving it largely derivative and completely unnecessary. It is quite sad because from what is seen - there's a lot of potential. Although, it should be noted that film benefits from the sound turned off. Narration distances the viewer while its absence immerses the viewer into a desolate, murky atmosphere of the film. There's a story striving to be fleshed out:
Lonely man wanders through a city with no particular purpose. He walks into a bar, gets drunk because there is not much else to do; acts mildly erratically; hooks up with the girl; they have one-night stand (of course!). Next day he's all alone again and it's not getting any better. Then there is a shot of him and his beard covered in fluff and feathers from a pillow torn apart. There is some sort of unease. Then he gets up, looks aimlessly through the window, feels sad and elaborately confused; sees himself down on the street. He and his doppelganger gaze at each other and then the doppelganger leaves. The end.
But there's a Prufrock standing on the way and so you don't get anything substantial.

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Putting poetry to film is not a tricky task by any means. There are lots of examples. But there's one thing that is common among them - in order to put poetry on film you need to translate it into a language of moving images. Otherwise you get another clumsy narrative with no rhyme or reason which is ultimately superfluous supplement to the text. 

To explain it in a more precise form I need to reference one particular instance in Star Trek. There was an episode in The Motion Picture where newly-appointed officers were beamed to Enterprise through the transporter device. The operation resulted in a disaster that caused their bodies to merge into a horrifying creature on borrowed time. You get the point.