Casual

Ryan Reynolds: Chris Brander

Whore would like to 430888

When can we, yeah can we, work it out? Meditation just makes you more strung out I wish you had a guru to tell you to let it go, let it go. I wanna walk through the park in the dark Men are scared that women will laugh at them I wanna walk through the park in the dark Women are scared that men will kill them I hold my keys Between my fingers. I wanna walk through the park in the dark Men are scared that women will laugh at them I wanna walk through the park in the dark Women are scared that men will kill them. Your desperation stinks I can smell it on your breath A certain absolut anosmic Got yourself to blame for this. Not really it seems.

Anna, talented, striking, but prickly and bad-tempered, struggles to secure representation or constant paying jobs. Resentment roils between them. Meanwhile, Anna perceives that beneath the blandly kind facade, Beth is smugly superior and, worse, unwilling to allocate even the crumbs of her accomplishment. The camera, the holy grail of their industry, becomes a creepy apparition, a reminder that women, even all the rage their most vulnerable moments, are all the time under surveillance, constantly being appraised. After that too often, those watching, those judging the harshest, are other women. Takal and her husband, Lawrence Michael Levine, who wrote the screenplay, co-opt tropes from slasher movies and even porn—the film opens with a very awkward casting couch scene, in which Beth nervously asks a panel of off-camera male producers if she should disrobe—to tell a feminist story about absorbed psychological fracture. How coy must we play it to get what we want?

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