In fact, most conventional references become useless when considering the abstractions of the avant-garde multimedia artist and creator of the five-film "Cremaster" cycle.

It is a series of lyrical ambiguities filtered through the prism of Japanese religious and whaling cultures that defy literal interpretation even as they are sculpted into physical significance. Recurring juxtapositions of modern and ancient, manufactured and organic and developed and pristine culminate in an act of gelatinous compromise - a mammoth Shinto pudding that is the film's enigmatic centerpiece being built on the deck of a whaling ship.

Neither liquid nor solid, its consistency inadvertently suggests the viscous eye of the beholder in a state of flux, somewhere between seeing and understanding, which is where many in the audience will find themselves. The pudding, which the museum catalog describes as being made of petroleum jelly, is molded in the shape of a bolus, or barbell, in which two round halves are suspended on either side of an obstacle that separates them; this is the film's recurring symbol, and reinforces the theme of forced resistance.

The contrast of opposites extends to the bearded, bear-like Barney and his elfin co-star and real-life companion, Icelandic singer-songwriter Bjork. The music she composed for the film is a collage of metronomic throbbing and ethereal trilling, and includes a suite composed for a Japanese flute-like instrument called the sho.

Together, Barney and Bjork set off from opposite shores and meet on the whaling ship where they are ritualistically stripped of identity and engage in an elaborate and tediously formal ceremony, the film's longest sequence, during which they consume whale ambergris. Then, after a violent and sexual metamorphosis, in which they make sushi of each other in an underwater abattoir, they are reborn as marine animals themselves.

But any plot description is inadequate, pollutes Barney's intent and the viewer's perception, and is probably beside the point anyway.

Despite having almost no dialogue, Drawing Restraint 9 is a more narrative-driven film, but is elusive and precious in a way many will find pretentious and pointless. A clue to its meaning may be found in the opening scene in which a woman ceremoniously wraps a fossil in an elaborate package, suggesting the value of presentation over content.

By this standard, even an empty package can appear to have something to admire in its origami folds.