The first time anyone saw Kaleidoscope, the idea of a movie ‘going viral’ didn’t even exist. There were cult films, sure (and who ever really thought about what they were naming the phenomenon after), but movies, ads, home-made videos, didn’t ‘go viral’. There were midnight screenings, and whispers in the dark. There were theories and conjectures about what was real and what wasn’t. Devotees found each other, as they always do, and a following formed. That was it.
But Kaleidoscope did go viral – in the most basic and true-to-life definition of the term. Because it isn’t a movie, not really. It’s an infection. (Kaleidophiles will tell you as much, in their most honest moments.) It gets in the blood; it changes you. It passes from person to person, from lip to ear. It goes deep. And there’s no known cure.
Jackson Mortar tried to kill it. He tried his damndest, once he understood (he had no idea) what he’d devoted his life to. He tried to bury it alive. Carrie Linden could have told him, if he’d bothered to ask (but he had no idea about that, either).
There are some things you can’t kill. There are some things that spread, even when popular terminology hasn’t been invented to encompass what they are. If you ask Carrie Linden (but you never will), she’d tell you. It isn’t a cult movie. It isn’t a viral video. It’s something else. And it never ends.