March 10, 2003 [Irréversible]

Somewhere a million years ago, a million miles away, somewhere without a past always creeping up on the present, where the axis of the planet I'm standing on refuses to reverse itself just to peer over the edge of its own smooth curve, Irréversible was never made, and I never had to see it.

The camera lies on its side in exhausted despair and drags itself like a useless limb--and gets tossed in the air to tumble like that bone in 2001--but oh my Best Beloved, no jumpcut will take us where the air is clean and white and turning--then again, maybe both movies crane their necks to see that moment when murder changed everything and set in motion--no, joins the motion of the irreversible thing spinning way out there, of no help for all its blue serenity.

At the end--at the start--of Irréversible as the wrong head--oh, we'll find out the truth soon enough--is methodically crushed, I thought I had an opportunity to use my revulsion to walk out--but the camera spins in the humming dead space and takes me back--to my seat, to the past, all the way to blissful ignorance, everybody growing young again.  But there is no consolation in going backward, just a trick of the light in a tunnel where the woman is crushed as well--just in time for her to go back to the party to make sure she will go back to the tunnel.  It isn't fair to know, to remember--it does nothing for us as we move forward--because you see we're always going backward, every minute, sixty to zero.