My swooning love of FOXES may well be totally disproportionate to the objective goods it has on offer, but what can I say? To each his or her own pleasures. Lyne's diaphanous, smoky grrrl coming-of-ager is neither cynical, especially exploitative, or ironic; it is forlorn and alert to the commonplace cruelties of getting on, w/ a shaggy-dog mien and ragged elegance. Takes me back. Ever shall. It's personal.