ok so my nuclear-levels-of-dumb-take-i-believe-whole-heartedly is that the contemporary american versions of reynolds and cyril woodcock are jason and brett oppenheim from selling sunset.

that aside, this movie, from the way it’s shot and scored and acted and costume designed, is so unbearably sexy and tactile and a beautiful ode to the broad potential of human dedication and love and how it sweeps you up, regardless of circumstance. this whole thing gives me a full body tingle, like watching a video of someone getting their hair brushed and a light oil massage. this is my taste at its most humorless! and some of this movie is even pretty funny, but the final two minutes make me cry cry cry. maybe i’ll stop being a coward some day and put it in my top 4.

me and zach watched as a new years one two punch with harry met sally — very good pairing 🥴