bourgeois individuality as incarceration, the impossibility of plenitude giving way to violence. immorality in fassbinder usually seeks power and control, being born out of solitude, always in a structuralist sense. what to do when everything around you revolves around the supposed totality of the "I" and you feel the urge of leaning on another one? the saddest thing here is that no matter how hard we try to surpass culture, we remain trapped in its structure.
the camera pans frantically, indulging this power struggle, echoes of sirk are indicated in the film's colors and shapes, a poussin painting predicts the subsequent sexual tension in this web of love and exploitation, where pride falls in the face of love and tries to be recovered through violence. violence against yourself being rechanneled as violence towards the other, until there is nothing left.