"We were somewhere around Burbank, at the beginning of Cats, when the drugs began to take hold..."

30mg
Same number of seconds in, I entered survival mode.

Look upon these hollow homages to the physical form...these avatars of poor judgement, these sketchy, overeager, walking rough drafts draped in fuzzy, thriftless pixels... twirling effigies too prideful to self-immolate, pleading in earnest that you simply sing along.
Extravagant, sincere
Convinced they, too, were real
Real enough to be loved, at least...

And…

The modern  human condition via psychedelia and a purposefully exhausting/enchanting endorsement of “nonsense”... fantasy, fiction.

Endlessly following the dream, the ambition, the promise of something that was never explicitly guaranteed. Meeting inexplicable and relentlessly recurring obstacles and distractions. Falling in line and obeying the dodo bird because he’s the only one yet to experience drowning, the only one seemingly above the waves, rallying for drudgery and calling it a parade. The mad forsake the time, escape and indulge, celebrating their…

I needed this.

Aside from Apichatpong Weerasethakul, Hirokazu Kore-eda is perhaps the only director whose films can completely put me at ease. For two hours, the world slows down and I am allowed to silently communicate with the wealth of subtleties and softly spoken truths a Kore-eda picture holds. Still Walking is no different. It's serene, patient and quiet. In saying these things, I am of course tiptoeing around the most obvious descriptor of all, which is "delicate." Delicacy is…