RIEN BODY

when adrien brody enters a room in the movie 'detachment', he is entering a room he has already left. his life must not take place. his body can not be allowed to materialise. the bath tub will stay empty and clean, holding no traces of the dirt rings left by his soul when he emerges to dry of his non-body, applying deodorant to his angelic, yet fictitious, armpits, feeling the need to shave the face that is not there. the blank mirror surface shows nothing but the congealed constellations of tooth-paste spit.

adrien brody is eaten by the calmest of sorrows: the certainty that his life is beaten mercilessly into nothingness, that his efforts add little to it except the ceaseless gratification of terminal rejection and disappointment.

the abyss does not stare back at him. it fails to care.

for adrien brody there is nothing to be gained from compassion, as there are no mirroring agents which his compassion can be perceived within. it is thrown into nothingness and can only echo that nothingness, endlessly, in hollow cycles.

there is nothing to learn.

there is only the perpetuation of hate and loneliness. there will be no future. the sun will abandon a planet that have long since abandoned it. the comets dart into a pool of indifference, underappreciated by a chorus of shrugged shoulders, rolling eyes.

there is no love, only rape.

yet adrien brody knows, that even though he cannot save himself, he is not powerless to sacrifice himself for another. even now, in the most fractured moment of his non-existence, there is the off chance that someone can see him, and perceive his light, inexplicably, as shining a little bit brighter than their own.

life through sacrifice. it is his last chance. it is their last hope.

when adrien brody exits a room in the movie 'detachment', he does so in the contained warmth of a body that wasn't his to begin with.

all is not lost in sensitivity.