I don’t think Max’s colonization of the bathroom is an accident. It’s a place where we feel vulnerable, and many times we attach a lock to the door to prevent others from walking in unannounced.

The idea of chasing people into submission, trying to tame them as they run for their lives. Both the futility and cruelty of it.

In fact, my experience watching Popeye is what this film most reminded me of: the feeling of alarm, then dismay, and then the slow death of acceptance. 

And isn’t a catechism a religious text that takes the form of questions and answers? Is our conversation a catechism? Or just a cataclysm? Ha. 

This film is a Freudian’s dream. The way Cheryl constantly offers him milk isn’t exactly subtle.

All-American Murder isn’t bad, but it’s almost an extraterrestrial product, a movie made for humans by something that has no relationship to the physical universe.

Like Terminators or cockroaches, dive bars will always rise again. They’re one of the last bastions of organic and spontaneous social connection.