This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
A poet talks incessantly of the Madonna of Motherhood. When he finally cajoles his companion to visit it, he refuses to leave the car. The poet's reserve with respect to this object of attraction is in contrast to his openness to—one might say abandon in the face of—the madman who he pursues into the innermost depths, notwithstanding the revulsion and horror he cannot quite check.
We are led to understand that there is an identity of sorts between the poet…
The best part was when she read a passage from that Tiqqun essay. The director's choice of text sheds some light on the film's self-involved protagonist. Maybe this was a satire and we all got fooled?
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
One way to think through what doesn't work about this movie is the contradictory image of the afterlife it presents, one horizontal (reincarnation/samsara) and one vertical (final rest/eternal love). The tension between the two possibilities is refracted throughout the film, reproduced in the protagonist's unceasing search for her beloved, which is implicitly recognized as futile from the start. What keeps these contrasting impulses from unstructuring the film (and the semantic field underpinning it) are charged totems (the key, the crone…
