Melancholia

Melancholia

Disassociation as ritual, ritual as religion, religion as capsule - grief caught in the womb of a country, thats political strife encumbers the very mortal agency of those seeking to confront their oppression. A game of escapism is tenaciously mid-round, our cast reconciling the privilege of role-reconfiguration and a coupled, purposeful self-alienation, which bares no route forward, which offers no answer to the systemic pain entrenched in themselves. Diaz, here, and not in any other work I've seen, most acutely pressurizes his temporal sphere; atmosphere a non-factor, instead supplanted for the palpability of vacancy, seconds articulating their tick through an evaporation of patience: each moment is as dire and pernicious as the last. Over seven hours, its as numbing as the faux-escapist fantasy our characters wrestle within.