Larson's film County Line is set to an eerie soundtrack. The camera settles on this dark, forbidding cage-like wooden machine. The capsule-shaped contraption consists of enormous gears, cranks, clamps and rods, and generates a gooey oily substance that runs through a trough around its perimeter.
There's room for two men, one perched above, the other below. They power the machine with small movements. One moves his head from side to side while the other grasps a lever in his mouth.
It's obvious the machine has no apparent function, and the enormous effort being put forth by the two sweat-drenched laborers is a futile exercise. Is it a statement about the drudgery of everyday life? Possibly. Or maybe something more sinister.

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