It feels weird that they should make this a submarine movie, but thinking about it, it’s the only way to make this work.
These next four episodes are split two ways again, 13 and 15 seem to be interested in drilling down into objective reality, 14 and 16 go in the exact opposite direction, interrogating these character’s subjectivity. It feels odd to describe them out of order like this, but it’s really the only way that writing like this is going to flow.
Nine episodes in and it seems like things have finally settled down into a good rhythm, although I’m assured by reputation that it’ll be shaken up before too long.
I guess I basically decided to cover these episodes in blocks of four because I got to the end of the fourth and decided it was such an amazing piece of filmmaking that I had to write about it.
So this is a show with a main character who is suicidally depressed. It’s confirmed at episode four, but the whole thing’s been building to that point.
I got drunk and watched most of this over the course of a single evening, then the rest in bed hungover the next morning. It’ll explain why I spent a lot of it in tears moaning about how hard life is for poor Retsuko who never did nothing wrong.
Sorry, but I kinda loved this one.
Smithereens is overlong, tiresome, and I’d say meandering but like its hero it reaches a destination within half an hour and just sits in place waiting for something dramatic to happen. And then it does and it’s not worth the wait at all.
It’s easier sharing a body when the one you’re offering isn’t really yours. I’ve known this ever since I was a fourteen, pretending to be an adult woman to have cybersex on anonymous websites. Back when the internet was slow and those spaces still felt illicit folks were less picky about confirmation. I think they mostly liked being found desirable.
It’s unsurprising that the suicide which kicks off the first episode is the cleanest and most sanitised part of the whole affair. We are immediately plunged into a situation wherein we know, almost immediately, that just about everyone we’ll meet in the next hour will die — usually horrifically.