Femme Fatale ★★★★★

what if it turned out you were in an entirely different kind of movie than the one you had thought you had been living in the whole time? you had gotten really good at being in that movie so good that you could slip its bonds at will or so you thought just for a little while and those little whiles got longer and longer until you forgot you were in a movie at all except that is a lie and what about those weapons in your purse? those forged documents got you real documents which might as well be forged for all the good they are doing you. you can enact your genre easily, flash all the signs, call up the display behavior, cut and dissolve and match seamlessly or with the seams showing and that over and over for as long as possible until everyone is dazzled or dead or wandered off but you are still there with your lonely and grieving heart having cried itself out into airport bathroom wastebaskets one square of toilet paper at a time the oversize sunglasses even in winter the glamour that cloaks rather than the glamour that reveals when karma is displaced where does it go who pays and how does it ripple out from us in waves does it jump tracks like an out-of-control train does it catch and replicate as many copies as it can the fashion magazine rolled up unread purchased with the hopes it would be consumed in the narrow fake wood coffee cubicle almost but not quite overlooking the tarmac how did it go you didn't quite remember you had to tell yourself to trace yourself walking backwards backwards through the thin stand of cheap pine thrown up as a screen between the descent and ascent of planes and the stream of cars flowing into and away every airport feels like leaving without arriving that feeling forever the floral summer dress in the sun before the real heat of the afternoon, the clusters of storm cells moving upon the land, floppy hat heat shielding if we turned left here where would we end up would you still be here with me would you know my name if you heard it no matter what my name was would you recognize it even if i did not recognize it myself until reading it in the end credits no title screen no title screen until the very end it is what comes last before the lights come up and having to be yourself again, you rise a little unsteady with a sigh, purse over shoulder, first the bathroom then indifferent daylight

nathaxnne liked these reviews