Just John

"At the climax of the film, the music dramatically drowns out all diegetic sound. In this condition, and given the almost total darkness on screen, it becomes difficult to discern what’s happening. Through her heightened proprioception and spatialisation of the apartment, and as she takes away the power of sight on which her attacker depends, Susy turns her blindness to strategic advantage.

And with the loss of diegetic sound, we are effectively deprived of the privileged perspectivisation that has allowed Susy to discern the threat and assert a position of self-defence. Thus it is not only Roat who is overmatched – we too have depended on vision and diegetic sound to apprehend the narrative. In the final darkness and cacophony, we experience not Susy’s disability but Roat’s."

As Roat stumbles into the cabinet, the rattling of these ceramic mugs alerts Suzy to exactly where Roat is, which prompts her to start trying to unplug the fridge light.

Throughout the film, Suzy's intimate knowledge of her basement apartment and all of its furnishings has been well-established. She first realizes something is off (but first attributes it to Gloria) when a chair is out of place. And then she registers the quiet sound of the blinds being fiddled with by multiple characters, etc. This woman has worked hard to be self-sufficient in her living space, and it ends up saving her life.

"I'm sorry, but, uh, who the fuck got pregnant? He's holding the positive pregnancy test like it was the season finale of their fertility arc, and they are standing there shocked, emotional, and glowing like the next step is a baby shower at IKEA. Guys, there is no uterus here. There is no egg. There is only confusion and probably a strong scent of vanilla Chai bodywash.

Like, honestly, congratulations on your emotional pregnancy, I guess. What are you expecting a child, a spirit baby, a metaphysical rent increase? This is not pregnancy; this is a marketing stunt. This is what happens when two men love each other so much that they gaslight a pregnancy test into giving them a storyline.

Biology is canceled. Logic is deleted. Gravity is optional. But the comments. The comment, 'this is so beautiful; normalize this.' Normalize what? False positives and shared delusions? The immaculate conception of Carl and Steve?

What are we doing? Next week I will see a toaster identifying as a single mom, and you will all be like, 'yes, queen, slay motherhood!'

Honestly, this is not progressive. This is theatre. Not even good theatre. This is like off-brand Glee meets a Buzzfeed dream journal.

And don't get me wrong. I'm not mad. I'm just emotionally pregnant with secondhand embarrassment."