Didn’t hang around long enough to make much of it. The same director did Songs from the Second Floor. This looked like more of the same, but with an eerie commercial tone to the visuals. I had to leave when the assorted senile members of the MOMA started howling at inopportune moments and talking the screen. I accept that shit at martial arts films and at the Magic Johnson Theatre, but not at art-house fare.
You the Living