Descent (Neil Marshall, 2005)

In hopes of ousting all netherworld answerless oblivion a team of five adventuresses sink into the chthonic aperture of a maternal geode, carabiners and slick tongues clicking with resolve—a misguided death quest. We follow our team past damp paintings of amateur skill-level, paintings of beasts whose names even babies can pronounce, babies whose scent moistens the pink perinea of said cavern, cavern whence we and all five adventuresses arose and are henceforth headed. The heroic ladies shrunken to babies return—as in a final return—home—as in the fleshy fiber, post or pre biologic abode—and encounter simultaneously untimely demises and timely sapiens’s insipience. We push through to the red-rimmed earth eye and its look conjures memories of the first, longest and foulest sleep.