Life is necessarily about movies. We need it to be in order to make it feel more exciting. We need to adhere to structures in order to feel well-balanced. Some of us create these structures, others borrow them.
Those that borrow look to books, films, and songs. This movie, amongst other things, is about the muddledness of the borrowing.
We see our two leads indulge in sex and drugs. Both things come directly from rock & roll music. So we also see them go to rock & roll concerts. Nine songs. Each one of them writing the story of their relationship. But there might not have been any relationship at all. Our main character narrates the story from somewhere in Antartica. He might as well be making up his memories. From movies, from songs. This is how we imagine our lives.
This is an essayistic exercise on the way our real-life world feeds off the fictional-world of music and movies. The love, the sex, the ‘acting’, without any irony. It’s intelligent. Something Godard would make.
On another note: the sex here feels genuine. It is probably like the one you have yourself if you dare to be intimately open. This kind of stuff does not happen very often in films. When it does, it allows room for growth in real life. Haneke and Cassavetes did it for the idea of ‘the encounter’. Winterbottom now does it for sex. It may not change the way you are having sex right now, but the next intelligent film that spawns from this one probably will.
I recommend this. Not because of the content, but because of the ideas supporting it. See it, it’s short.