sharing rhythm creates a political question about who determines rhythm and when trio in unison, with the possibility of becoming either backup dancers or soloists open-ended and absurdist and nonsensical shame as part of gaze
When you leave you leave the windows open and the doors and because the house sits by the sea by first light a film of sand gilds the floorboards and the kitchen chairs
It’s an experiment in placing the private in public, says the director—a device HE will learn to use well in the many years to come.
Actors do their best to blend in to the faceless glass city. They get desk jobs, they settle down, they raise families. None of it is real.
The curtain opens on the cold, wintry Atlantic Ocean.
In the end there is not nothing. In the end there is endless everything.
Will our love stories ever resolve, they wonder, will they come to a head at some point like a mountain peak or a vast plateau or will they stubbornly revolve in spinning sequences of not-quite-endings, hapless or half-hearted attempts to cut cords left over from the last vow-less beginning?