Once again, as whenwe were small, we believe thatmagiccanhappen, that we can bedifferent, that lifeisnot just a predictable and frequently humiliating shamble towards the grave.
The exuberantly composed and furiously performed scenes play out, in bars and streets and beds and bathrooms, at the perilously measured pace of a tightrope walker dancing over the abyss, and the three actors lurch and shamble with the vestigial grace of the athletes these commuters once longed to be.