High heel shoes tracked in close-up loudly pacing on attic boards covered with maggots.
There are directors and then there is Argento
Growing up in New Mexico my dad and I would take annual road trips to a different corner of the state, experiences that now bestow me with euphoric nostalgia for the Desert Curiosity. So this time on the Wes Anderson Express, in ADDITION to my usual deep admiration for the director's dedicated craftsmanship, mastery of language, and exceptional satire of 20th century America, this film sparked those distant memories of the small hotels, the ramshackle tourist setups, and the sheer splendor of those strange sights lying on an infinite horizon.