A universal satire of bad writing, bad directing and bad acting, built of every bad idea easily laid hands upon, one of which is the jargon of “shifting narrative perspective”, as if there were nothing more boring than fashion after a fashion and feminism per se and fiction of a sort, when there are people preoccupied with such things and, even worse, bad art to go with them.

Nevertheless, and for what it’s worth, the sad end of a fashion model is undone over four nights until she slips through all the various hands intent upon the screenplay intended by the screenwriter, resolving or rather clarifying many a discord and sour note but leaving the narrative, for want of a better word, as absurd as ever.