In Gus Van Sant's new film, Gerry, Matt Damon and Casey Affleck play two guys who are both named Gerry who take a walk in the desert and get lost. That's it, and for 103 minutes yet. So the only way to talk about Gerry is to talk about it in relation to something, anything, else, or by repeating the three things everyone will say about it. First, it's is a remarkably gorgeous movie. The desert, mountains, and sky look supernaturally terrific, almost three-dimensional. Mention will also be made that the two Gerrys' aimless wandering is akin to Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot. With the improvised dialogue provided by the two actors, this is akin to saying that Plan 9 From Outer Space is analogous to Dr. Strangelove since both were filmed in black and white. The third thing--I'm sorry--I can't recall the third thing. Maybe there were only two things. Anyway, at some point during Gerry--perhaps during an especially grueling endless closeup of the Gerrys' bobbing silent heads as they walk a wee bit more--I tired of looking at other napping audience members and got to thinking about a '90s trend in New York art circles frequently referred to as "shit-on-the-floor." For those who haven't kept up their Artforum subscription--a category I've no doubt does not include Van Sant--basically, shit-on-the-floor artists collected dirt, rocks, Budweiser cans, and the like, called it art, and it became art. The point is, or might be, that perhaps Van Sant is conceivably pioneering a new school of shit-on-the-screen art, but really, I'm just guessing.