not even a refusal of, but a total stark hindsight warning message of kitsch suburban american dream nightmares of jetsons tables, round bottomed BBQs, practicing golf swings by the washing line, the rubbery organ wobble of gameshow themes through TV speakers, old cookbooks full of experimental recipes to wow fellow post-war acolytes of heightened ignorance and civil perfection. consumers consuming.
out of all those late 80s/early 90s darque american suburban gothic horrors like Meet the Applegates and Edward Scissorhands and Serial Mom, Parents is wayyyy more sinister and soupy with dread but also replete with absolutely beautiful nightmare visions and unique visuals. Blown away by that scream through the pipes still.
note to self: stop sleeping on good films, theyre not a comfy bed.
**edit: holy shit, phoebe buffay's dad directed this**