The K-Film begins with a foreword annotation from its creators, regarding the neutrality of the piece in painting the suburban lifestyle in neither “negative [nor] positive light”. Claiming to be depicted as “just the way it is”, the audience is reminded to keep an open mind and to approach the piece with no prejudice. Immediately we are confronted with images assimilated to symbolism of home. Houses fashioned after Victorian-style architecture are juxtaposed to a single shot of the contemporary world; in the case of the initial interface, that of a utility pole. 
Regardless of the approach the user takes on the account, a pattern emerges within of a personal impression of home, supplemented with images of the undisturbed view of narrow streets. Sure, an unavoidably almost-constant auditory reminder of unseen vehicles brings us back to the business of the present, but the stillness of life in suburbia is not amiss. The only shot included that breaks the illusion of suspension is that of a city train passing through tracks overgrown with wild vegetation. In its own way, this illustrates the visible distance of the suburbs to the chaotic cityscape, for only one who hailed from the suburbia would have need for that public transport.
Despite the immobility in the tranquillity of the shots, the user is reminded of the life within. Perhaps it is the growth in foliage; trees, bushes and flowers that contrast its green and brown hues to the blue and white of the ripe autumn sky. The sounds of birds chirping and wind whistling through the camera’s microphones also lend to this reminder. However, the practice relies on the experiential content of the user’s familiar memories that brings them into the physical space, going beyond that of a conversational and/or hypertextual mode of the interactive documentary. It is not what we see that makes us think of family and childhood, but act rather as triggers for our own personal memories to contain our experience with the piece.
An obvious aspect to a user with knowledge in cinematography is the creators’ deliberate use of angles, corners and straight lines in most, if not all, of the shots in the piece. The creators have calculatingly shown no break in fences and lines, no disruption to the conservative and conforming world of the suburban landscape. The layout of the overall piece’s interface contributes perfectly to the concept of straightness, each hypertextual image neatly lined up one after the other below the main focus piece. This unitary, aligned notion of harmony imparts an unadventurous tone that corresponds with tradition, of an internal childhood that remains detached from the cruelty of the adult world.
The title in itself, however, remains questionable to me as a content user. A “eulogy” is a high praise or commendation customarily used in honour of a deceased person. Therefore, I cannot help but shake the feeling that an implication on the “death” or the revolution of the suburban lifestyle exists within the title – and only the title – whereas the piece itself, celebrates the life of the suburbs. To now, I am unsure whether this contradiction was on purpose, or a slight mistake in synonym-use by the creators.
As with every instance of this documentary mode, meaning is utterly dependent on the experiences of the user, that the peacefulness could be construed to homeliness and domesticated living, or boredom and the urge to escape to the city. The narrative of the content holds almost no existence during my encounter, but rather an acute consideration on the motionlessness of the theme, regardless of the creators’ preamble.