Hutch’s review published on Letterboxd:
At its core, a crime thriller, contained within a droll comedy biosphere, inside an arch irony atmosphere, within a galaxy of despair. Trouble and desire, they make the world go around. That and Godardish dance interludes, overdriven guitar renditions of Greensleeves, and appreciations of the blessed Virgin Mary: “not only is she pretty, but she’s got a nice personality and she’s the mother of God”.
Here’s a taster - the monologue that closes the film:
“I know life is just one endless quagmire of futility, broken dreams, smashed hopes … you give your heart and soul to people - they just stomp it to pieces. Love, affection, consideration: these things are myths. Myths invented in a torture chamber. A torture chamber in hell. What do we ever really know about another person anyway? They have their own needs and wants; their own passionate and perverse dreams. Falling in love is like sticking an ice pick in your forehead, but we keep doing it. We hurl ourselves into the cauldron of passion; the bottomless pit of desire.”
That’s the truth at 24 frames per second, Hal Hartley style.