can't say anything on this yet, my words are drained and my body is too. the words won't come in the way they should, my mind is too filled with pain and anxiety to construct the perfect sentences, to engage in intellectual and insightful critique. all i can do is let them flow, the ones that come out and always come back to me, the personal relation to the artwork dominates my saddened discourse. this film is not perfect, and it doesn't need to be. there are moments where it goes too far over the top, in terms of staging and certain supporting performances and there's a third act deviation that while narratively fitting doesn't work as well as it…