Went to the cinema on Friday with Michael to watch 35 Rums, or as the subtitles had it, 35 Shots. Almost every scene was pregnant with meaning, but every time a narrative began to emerge (and I counted about fifteen possible stories gestating in the background) it was smothered at birth.
Just what was the significance of the second rice boiler? Or the dead cat? Or the mad german woman? And why did the cafe close, then open again?
Fuck do I know. Watching it was like listening to Free Jazz. You know it’s supposed to be good for you, on some intellectual level, but you can’t quite identify when or where the benefits are occuring.
Nevertheless, I found myself wanting to know more about the characters.