Philip Beesley

I stopped twice, full of dread, before I saw it through: the brutal violence and suffering constantly risked being indiscriminate and my fear of where these beautiful desparate characters were taking themselves overtook me several times as I watched. I feel exhausted by that. Yet somehow the tiny shreds of regret and hope survived, and their pathetic gestures gained some traction. Not that the Hollywood ending-images- the man at the podium, the boy on the bike going west- promised anything other than a mask for the future suffering to come. Resting at the edge of desperation while somehow reaching out and offering fragments of real love and real vulnerability, the horribly ironic cycles in the story embody the potential of tragedy for me. This film deserves to be treasured. Really extraordinary.