Images are almost always fascinating. Voiceover is occasionally astute but most of the time pretentious. At times, its leaps of logic reminded me of this rant I heard in Washington Square Park that linked R. Kelly lyrics to a Zionist conspiracy.

Zzzzzzz beautifully shot zzzzzzzzzzz compelling take on relational revenge zzzzzzz mercifully short...

A shaggy bike story!

Sux that this was Dreyer's swan song. The play is dull, dated, and laughably earnest in its anti-sentimentalism. Lighting, as always, is amazing. But not enough to keep me from making to-do lists in my head while the wrought lovers chattered endlessly.

Witch-burning octogenarian priest marries ridiculously hot twenty-something daughter of a witch. Priest's frown-faced, Oedipal mother disapproves. Priest's strapping young son comes home for a visit and is charged with keeping his new stepmother occupied. You can pretty much figure out how the dominoes fall after that.