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This belly of the beast has digested several myths that became bread and butter in film theory — as if Leviathan decided to swallow a projection booth and rewrite Plato’s parable of the cave to deliver it to a bunch of French semioticians stuck in the 1960s. No one cares about the monster's metabolism, let alone the theory, except for the fact that it reminds us we are all trapped in mediations: always behind glass, a wall, someone else's body or subconscious (which is even worse). This time what seems like giant film perforations is the center of action. Another exercise in living beyond the borders of the frame, in some (useful) margins.