Doesn't seem it will add up to much, or in the way they intend, but it does. Strangely ecstatic, rhapsodic poetry, redolent of Vuillard, Bonnard, and other painters. The beach ball interlude close-ups are wonderful, verging on surreal, but stay in the zone. Quivering leaves ought to be ridiculous but they not only pull it off, it is deep stuff. A poem to the hearts of women in a repressive man's world. Still timely.