Cure ★★★★★

X marks your carnal desires, expose it for all to see and watch as they try to wipe it, erase it, frantically claw it off the wall if they have to. The messiah has arrived at the beach, he asks: without it what are you? Takabe, detective. Sakuma, psychiatrist. Miyajima, doctor. Fujiwara, headquarters -- empty husks with empty labels, even a dried up monkey corpse looks more alive, so let me ask again, who are you? Inside you there are two (gay and kissing) wolves: one bows, smiles, curses its boss under its breath go to hell, give me a break; another bites, cuts, stabs, maims, compels us to say "he's such a nice person." when asked about our neighbor who had just murdered his entire family. Both are natural and both make up Takabe detective, Miyajima doctor, but only one is constantly shunned. For this, Miyajima doctor said, "men is to blame."; Takabe detective, channeling the joker, said, "society is to blame", to which the Messiah answered by asking more questions, nande, nande, nande? -- embodying the film's indifference in providing real, solid answers. Instead, Kurosawa leaves us with a punch in the gut, one final mini heart attack after a series of heart attacks to abruptly end the film, one with the most lasting impact, raising an endless amount of questions, confusion, despair, as a joke, as a little prank, if you will.

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