this narrative obstinacy is what I crave. just stab me in the eye with it.

the characters move from place to place, without discussion. everywhere, they circle the same point of guilt. in this cage, they naturally sink into each other, over and over, with pleasureless sex. their bodies are a solutionless knot.

there’s a lulling/wakening motion, which repeats itself three times, each time a weaker echo, in which they forget and then are made to remember.

when they almost…

as time goes on I don't care for the kind of priestly conflict here that sucks the life out of everything else. what came before: Christine becoming playful & giving out intuitive wisdom, was so intoxicating, and I was resentful when it was stopped up by the rise of the rote and overacted priest.

I was kept going by Pauline's character and the unthwarted aspects of Christine. Christine's embroidery and the dizzy paganisms were also beautiful.

other people have pointed out…

when the voice of the adults waxes poetic, lending an obscure weight to simple, if agreeable, political statements about the world of "the monsters" (the destructiveness of cars, schools as training grounds for factories/the military, etc.), I feel embarrassed. but I enjoyed seeing this shadowy way of thinking butt up against the unforgiving light of the straightforward answers the two child interviewees provide.

in the first couple episodes, the "reporter's" free-associative socratic dialogue on subjects such as existence and light…