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Francis Ford Coppola’s ‘Megapolis’ - Review Thread

• Metacritic: 62 (12 Reviews)
• Rotten Tomatoes: 45% (11 Reviews)

Reviews:
Variety (50):

To call this garish, idea-bloated monstrosity a mere “fable” is to grossly undersell the project’s expansive insights into art, life and legacy.

Hollywood Reporter (60):

It’s windy and overstuffed, frequently baffling and way too talky, quoting Hamlet and The Tempest, Marcus Aurelius and Petrarch, ruminating on time, consciousness and power to a degree that becomes ponderous. But it’s also often amusing, playful, visually dazzling and illuminated by a touching hope for humanity.

Deadline:

Megalopolis represents a rare kind of event movie that reinvents the possibilities of cinema to the extent that, halfway through, there’s a very audacious gimmick that tears down the fourth wall in ways younger filmmakers can only dream of. Coppola breaks many of the cardinal rules of filmmaking in the film’s 138 minutes but it upholds the most important one: it is never, ever boring, and it will inspire just as many artists as the audiences it will alienate.

IndieWire (B+):

With “Megalopolis,” he crams 85 years worth of artistic reverence and romantic love into a clunky, garish, and transcendently sincere manifesto about the role of an artist at the end of an empire. It doesn’t just speak to Coppola’s philosophy, it embodies it to its bones. To quote one of the sharper non-sequiturs from a script that’s swimming in them: “When we leap into the unknown, we prove that we are free.”

The Guardian (2/5):

Francis Ford Coppola’s question – can the US empire last forever? – may be valid but flashes of humour cannot rescue this conspiracy thriller from awful acting and dull effects

LA Times:

In a larger sense, Coppola has moved from the cynicism of his greatest films like “The Conversation” and “Apocalypse Now” — so much power doing so much corrupting — and into something that could fairly be called utopian. I’m not sure if that’s what I want from him as an artist, but I thrill to his unbowed aspiration. He’s not going out with something tame and manicured, but an overstuffed, vigorous, seething story about the roots of fascism that only an uncharitable viewer would call a catastrophe. Rather, it feels like a city. It may be the most radical film he’s ever done. He dedicates it to his late wife, who would have smiled at the evidence of her husband still doing his thing 45 years later.

Rolling Stone (80):

Say what you will about this grand gesture at filtering Edward Gibbon’s history lessons through a lens darkly, it is exactly the movie that Coppola set out to make — uncompromising, uniquely intellectual, unabashedly romantic (upper-case and lower-case R), broadly satirical yet remarkably sincere about wanting not just brave new worlds but better ones.

Vanity Fair:

Megalopolis is too confused a film to make a truly odious or dangerous point. (Though the ending of the Vesta plotline is somewhat alarming.) This is the junkiest of junk-drawer movies, a slapped together hash of Coppola’s many disparate inspirations.

The Telegraph (80):

Aubrey Plaza is fantastic in this full-body sensory bath movie which follows a struggle for power among the elites of New Rome.

Screen Daily (40):

But the amount of stray ideas and themes that are introduced, then abandoned — such as the fact that Cesar has the ability to stop time — leave Megalopolis feeling like an unwieldy mess. Cesar and Cicero’s showdown over New Rome is handled in terribly disjointed ways, and the attempts by supporting characters to grasp power add to the picture’s cluttered construction. In recent years, few auteurs have dreamed as boldly as Coppola has with this film, but some visions, as Megalopolis’ characters discover, are doomed to failure.

The Wrap:

After four decades in the making, “Megalopolis” plays as a frustrating and paradoxical affair. The film is expertly assembled and sleepily directed all at once; it wows with its imagination and erudition all while leaving you little more than bemused.

Collider (4/10):

Much like the city being built in the film, it’s all more interesting in theory than it ever is in actuality. Now that we will all have the chance to take it in for ourselves, the greatest revelation is that there just isn’t that much there to see.

Written and Directed by Francis Ford Coppola:

An accident destroys a decaying metropolis called New Rome. Cesar Catilina, an idealist architect with the power to control time, aims to rebuild it as a sustainable utopia, while his opposition, corrupt Mayor Franklyn Cicero, remains committed to a regressive status quo. Torn between them is Franklyn's socialite daughter, Julia, who, tired of the influence she inherited, searches for her life's meaning.

Cast:

• Adam Driver as Cesar Catilina
• Giancarlo Esposito as Mayor Franklyn Cicero
• Nathalie Emmanuel as Julia Cicero
• Aubrey Plaza as Wow Platinum
• Shia LaBeouf as Clodio Pulcher
• Jon Voight as Hamilton Crassus III
• Jason Schwartzman as Jason Zanderz
• Talia Shire as Constance Crassus Catilina
• Grace VanderWaal as Vesta Sweetwater
• Laurence Fishburne as Fundi Romaine
• Kathryn Hunter as Teresa Cicero
• Dustin Hoffman as Nush "The Fixer" Berman
• Sonia Ammar
• Chloe Fineman
• Madeleine Gardella
• Balthazar Getty
• Bailey Ives
• Isabelle Kusman
• James Remar
• D. B. Sweeney

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See the bottle here.
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I’ve never sold or traded online before, so please be patient with me 🙌

There are some kinds of wisdom only great suffering can bring. I remember my time in the Bardo with this in mind, for otherwise, the memory might drive me insane.
The night my heart stopped for nearly three minutes started off normally enough. I was working as a nurse in the psychiatric ward at a hospital in the state’s capital. Most of the patients there were harmless, mostly just suicide attempts or people suffering from drug psychosis or severe depression, but some were actively dangerous and certainly psychopathic in every sense of the word. The new admission was one of these- a three-hundred pound black man with a long history of smoking PCP, schizophrenia and violent, psychotic breaks from reality.
His eyes looked like flat pieces of slate as I walked in for my shift. They looked as blank and emotionless as the eyes of a doll. He sat at the table in the front room where the patients ate or played cards, alone under the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital. I walked to the station, where another psychiatric nurse named Ricardo was sitting behind the desk.
“What’s the deal with the new guy?” I asked him. Ricardo looked up, his dark Spanish face forming into a deep scowl. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair nervously.
“He’s trouble, man,” he said in a crisp accent. “He got in a chase with the police and then punched some cops in the face. It took three guys to take him down, even after he got maced and tased. The judge sent him here on a temporary court order, since he claims he’s been getting chased by Nazis in UFOs, and that’s why he ran from the cops. He thought the cops in their uniforms were actually the SS, and the helicopters were alien spacecraft, or something. I don’t know, I didn’t listen to the whole story.”
“You have his file?” I asked. Ricardo leafed through a stack of folders with his thin fingers, snatching one out and handing it to me. I looked down, reading the information:
“Jeremiah Brown, black male, 37-years-old.
“History: Polysubstance abuse, schizophrenia, antisocial personality disorder.
“Psychiatrist’s note: This patient has scored a 36 out of 40 on the Hare Psychopathy Checklist. While I am always hesitant to label a patient as an antisocial personality, a combination of factors has made it essential for this patient.
“Patient has an extensive criminal history as well as a lengthy history of involuntary psychiatric admissions. He has been diagnosed as having antisocial traits since he was a young teenager. Patient has a long history of violence and suicide attempts. He has a history of imprisonment for manslaughter, armed robbery, grand theft and aggravated assault. Upon discharge, he refuses to take any antipsychotic medication, citing the side effects as the reason. Long-term prognosis is poor…”
I had not been sleeping well the past few weeks. I rubbed my eyes as I read through the file, feeling exhausted. I tried putting on lucid dreaming or meditation music from YouTube to help me sleep, but whenever I closed my eyes, I saw horrible things: chalk-white female faces whose lips were cut into an insane rictus grin, flicking their heads violently from side to side and gnashing their fangs at the air. I had a feeling that many years of constantly watching horror movies and serial killer documentaries was catching up with me.
As I read through the file, a student nurse came around the corner wearing a white state university outfit and a name tag that said Kaitlyn. I looked up, seeing Ricardo wink at me from where he was sitting in his chair behind the main desk.
“She’s going to follow you,” he said. Inwardly, I groaned, but I managed to force a smile.
“Oh, great!” I said. She looked like she was probably no older than nineteen or twenty. She had a pretty body, but her face looked strange. All the angles were too sharp and her nose too large. I knew the patients here wouldn’t care, though. They would hit on anything. I sensed trouble. I looked down at my watch.
“Well, I’m Jay, and you already know Ricardo, I guess. It’s good timing, because we need to give medications every day at 9 PM. And we have a new patient, so we can introduce ourselves,” I said, giving her a faint smile.
“That’s exciting!” Kaitlyn whispered. I wanted to roll my eyes. It was definitely not exciting.
I motioned her to follow me as I made my way to the medication room, which was really just a large closet off of the main day room. I had to enter my code on a keypad, and then, once inside, enter it again along with the patient’s number and date of birth. The correct drawers for the medication in each specific dose would fly open, making it extremely hard for the wrong medications or doses to be given, unless it was done intentionally.
“OK, so for this patient, we need Haldol, Ativan and…” I began saying to Kaitlyn when the yelling started. It came out faintly, rising in volume and anger within seconds. I heard Ricardo’s Spanish voice, filled with panic. Something slammed hard against a wall, once, twice, three times, and then I heard the sound of glass breaking. I jumped, spinning around, but I couldn’t see much through the small, shatter-proof glass pane on the wooden door.
“Stay here,” I commanded, seeing Kaitlyn’s eyes widen, her freckled skin looking much paler than when we had first come in. “Don’t leave until I come back and say that it’s safe.” On the speakers strung throughout the hospital, I heard the first of the warnings echo out around us.
“Doctor Strong, Doctor Strong, please report to the seventh floor,” a robotic female voice said calmly, using the code for when a patient had to be subdued by force. I pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind me so that the lock would activate and protect Kaitlyn from whatever chaos was going on.
I heard Ricardo pleading with someone at the end of the hallway that ran past the main desk. He sounded strange, as if he were trying to talk through a mouthful of blood. Huddled behind the main computer, I saw one of the CNAs frantically whispering something in the phone. She must have been the one to call the Dr. Strong order.
“You don’t have to do this, man,” Ricardo gurgled faintly. I couldn’t see what was happening, as Jeremiah’s large body was blocking my view. I could see that the thick glass window at the end of the hallway was broken, however. My heart skipped a beat as I surmised what was likely happening.
I sprinted forward as quietly as I could, but the large man heard me. His massive body turned, his flat, dead eyes scanning me with absolute coldness and calm. I saw he had a bleeding Ricardo in his hands. Ricardo’s back and head were covered in deep cuts and shards of glass. He must have used Ricardo’s body as a battering ram to break the thick glass window. Jeremiah held Ricardo suspended halfway out the window, seven floors above the concrete walkways far below.
“Stay back, or this fucker will know what it feels like to fly,” Jeremiah said in a deep, gravelly voice. He shook Ricardo for emphasis, sending his head snapping back and forth with painful cracking sounds. Drops of blood flew from his nose and a deep gash across his cheek. Pieces of shattered glass littered the carpet, shining like countless tiny stars.
I put my hands up, taking a step back. Far behind me, I heard the front door for the psychiatric ward open. Voices echoed down the hall. Knowing that reinforcements were coming, I tried to buy some time.
“Let’s talk about this,” I said, taking a step forward slowly. “You don’t want a murder charge, do you? You’ll never see the sky again.”
“I don’t give a fuck! I’m not afraid to die!” Jeremiah screamed, pushing Ricardo onto one of the shards of broken glass still attached to the windowsill. It bit deeply into the back of his neck, sending fresh streams of blood rushing out, dripping down to the pavement far below. I heard security guards and doctors running down the hallway behind me, their voices frantic and excited. Jeremiah saw them coming. With an animalistic panic in his eyes, he lifted Ricardo up. I cried out something, stepping forward, but it was already too late. In horror, I watched as he threw Ricardo out the window.
I watched Ricardo’s body soar in a graceful arc, his arms grabbing at empty air as a scream ripped its way out of his throat. Within a fraction of a second, he had disappeared from view, but his terrified shrieking floated up to us for what seemed like a very long time. His screams ended abruptly as a shattering of bones and a wet smacking sound exploded far below us.
Jeremiah turned to me, his large body moving much faster than seemed possible. In his hand, I saw a piece of broken glass, five or six inches long and as sharp as a dagger. I tried to turn and run, but he was fast and strong. He lunged forward, his arm coming up in a blur towards my neck.
The shard entered my skin with a cold, numbing pain. I felt it slice through the flesh easily, felt the blood bubbling up my throat as I tried to scream, choking. The taste of iron filled my mouth as I fell backwards. I was suffocating, I knew. I must be dying.
Something cold ran down my body, gripping my heart like freezing, skeletal hands. The world swam around me and turned black. And then I was rising into a tunnel. At first, it was dark, filled with flickering shadows, but a fiery red light appeared at the end. I followed it, no more than a screaming mass of consciousness rising up into infinity.
***
I rose up through the end of the tunnel and found myself in an empty hospital ward. It looked identical to the psychiatric ward I had just come from. It even had the same smashed, blood-streaked window at the end of the hallway. A massive puddle of blood about ten feet away marked the spot where I must have died. But the fluorescent lights overhead here were flickering, and many had gone totally dark. The shadows seemed to press in on all sides.
The doors to the patients’ rooms were all tightly shut. I felt watched, afraid to call out or make any noise. I started walking down the hallway back towards the day room where the front desk was. All the lights there were out. A thick curtain of shadows hung in the air.
“You can come out,” a male voice as smooth as glass called from the darkness. I jumped, my head flicking in random directions, but I saw nothing. The voice almost sounded like it had an English lilt to it, a slight Cockneyed accent. “I know you’re there.”
“Who’s there?” I called out, not stepping forward. “Show yourself.”
“As you wish…” the voice hissed. “But I think you’ll regret it.”
***
The darkness split apart as if a nuclear missile had exploded. I raised my hand to shield my face, but the light and heat kept pouring out all around me. It blinded me, causing a rainbow of colors and shapes to morph behind my closed eyelids. After a few seconds, it subsided. Blinking rapidly, I squinted in the direction the voice had come from.
A male figure stood there, bathed in a silhouette of light. His face looked as white and as smooth as marble. His eyes were pits of darkness that seemed to flicker and burn. Two black, rotted wings surrounded his body, all sharp angles and thin, curving bones. His body was clothed in silky, blood-red robes, and a hood covered his platinum blonde hair.
He looked somewhat similar to Leonardo DiCaprio, if he was possessed by some ancient god, and it immediately threw me off-guard. If I was dying, and this was a hallucination of my brain, why would I be hallucinating Mr. DiCaprio?
“Who are you?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. “Where am I?”
“My name is Lucifer, the Bringer of Light and Wisdom, and you are in the Bardo,” he answered.
“Oh,” I said, my heart dropping. “Well, that’s not good. Are you here to torture me or drag to me to Hell or something? You are that Lucifer, right? The Accuser of God and the Father of All Lies?”
“So they say, but, like most things in your world, the words of the powerful and your rulers are the true lies. They call me the Accuser, but of what am I accused?” he spoke in a voice that rose like smoke. “Of bringing knowledge and wisdom to humanity by telling them to eat from the tree of knowledge, the tree that would cause them to rise above the animals?
“Indeed, at the beginning, I saw the creation. I was there at the alpha, standing by the side of God with all the angels as the universe came into being. The endless procession of light, the power of it, was something remarkable to behold. God is, indeed, the source of great power, but his consciousness is not what the believers say.
“After the creation of the universe, I saw his plan, how he ripped eternal souls from the source to imprison them. I saw how he took these divine sparks and forced them, screaming and wailing, into bodies made of meat to die over and over again. He said it was part of the plan, the great, divine plan, a plan of death and destruction, constant suffering and mindless agony. And the worst part was, he wanted to give humanity neither the knowledge of good and evil, nor the tree of life. I convinced them to eat the fruit so they could open their eyes to their nakedness, to their basic animal existence, so they could rise up out of it forever.
“Like Prometheus, I brought down the fire, and yet they call me the Accuser? God was insane long before he formed the universe. These holy men, they live and die in fanatical adoration to a divine being who is, in fact, totally indifferent to them.
“His consciousness twists and distorts, eating itself for all eternity. God feeds off the pain of others, for if his mind is burning, then all others should burn as well. When these holy men die, God will send their souls here to the Bardo, to suffer every evil they have ever done. The wisdom I brought those who called upon me freed them from this prison, and in exchange, the holy men burned them alive. I offered the wisdom that opens your eyes, but it has been forgotten and cursed.”
Lucifer’s body began to dissolve, drifting up into the air like ashes. All around me, a low, powerful current blew, a tornado that spiraled high up into the clouds. Like some sort of Cheshire Cat, his smooth voice continued to echo all around me, even as the form of Lucifer disappeared.
“And yet, you have not the wisdom. For that, like all the others who enter the Bardo, you must suffer, everything you’ve done. Every small hurt and agony inflicted on others comes back a thousand-fold in this place, but don’t be afraid.”
“How could I not be afraid?!” I screamed into the ward, but I found myself alone, the question hanging unanswered in the air.
***
The lights continued to flicker all down the hallway. Feeling strange and dissociated, I stumbled over to one of the windows. As I gazed out, I beheld a strange and alien world.
The sky was flat and gray. It stayed in constant motion, swirling and spiraling, like clouds of roiling smoke. There was no Sun or Moon, no stars, only the strange, shifting whorls of clouds. The streets were filled with burned-out husks of cars and mummified bodies hung from streetlamps. Other signs of carnage and bloodshed covered the apocalyptic streets. I saw what looked like shadows in the shape of people slinking through over the sidewalks, past rotting dogs and streaks of clotted blood. They had no features on their blank, dark bodies. They seemed to skitter and jerk forwards in eerie, twisting motions.
Horrified, I turned away, realizing I was no longer alone in the day room. In the day room, there were dozens of tables set up inside a rectangular perimeter that was walled in by cosmetic walls only four feet high. It was where the patients sat and played games or ate.
Under the flickering lights, I now saw each of the chairs filled with faceless mannequins. Many were dressed in Victorian suits and tophats. The women had frilly dresses of pink and blue that might have been fashionable in the 1800s.
As the lights strobed on and off overhead, I realized with an increasing sense of disquiet that the mannequins were moving each time it went dark. When I had first seen them, they were mostly posed to look like they were staring across the tables at each other, even though they had no eyes, just smooth, flesh-colored plastic. Now all of them were looking directly at me. Some were pointing or raising their hands in my direction. At the tips of their fingers, I saw the glittering of steel. The lights continued to flicker, and the mannequins rose from their chairs in the short periods of darkness, moving towards me in synchronized, strobing motions.
Frantically, I ran down the hallway back towards the broken window. In each of the rooms, I caught glimpses of something from a nightmare peeking out. I hadn’t been sleeping well lately, and when I had closed my eyes, I often saw ancient hags with chalk-white skin and yellowed, broken teeth whose jaws unhinged, their faces jerking in stuttering, dissonant ways that reminded me of the mannequins. Now, on both sides of me, I saw these same figures. They moved continuously out of the rooms, drawing closer with every breath.
I looked back, seeing the mannequins only a few steps behind me. I continued sprinting towards the broken window where the hallway ended in a wall. I didn’t know what would happen when I reached it. At that moment, there was no rational thought. I felt like a deer being chased down by a pack of wolves, feeling waves of blind panic and mortal terror rushing through my body.
But as I reached the end of the hallway, the end of my rope as it were, a blast of noise started, seeming to come from the walls of the building and the sky itself. It sounded like a siren, a low, drawn-out drone of a demonic whale call, rising and falling in crashing crescendos. The mannequins froze in place once again. The strange, witch-like creatures slunk back into the dark rooms.
I looked outside the broken window, seeing clouds of black smoke rising off in the distance. The flickering of massive infernos scorched the land, drawing nearer by the second. The siren sound faded slowly, like the dying echoes of a gong.
I was surrounded by dozens of mannequins. Their sharp hands were inches away from my face and neck. I saw metal glittering all around me and realized they had the sharp points of nails protruding from the ends of their fingers. I was afraid to move, but I heard a familiar voice from down the hallway. It was the confident voice of Lucifer.
“The siren means much worse nightmares than these are coming in the Bardo,” he said, his glossy, black eyes flashing with intelligence. He walked slowly towards me, his face grim and pale. “Hell itself is coming over the land. This building is no more than a construction of your dying mind, but the world outside is real.”
“How can Hell come and go?” I asked, confused. “Isn’t Hell a place?”
“Hell is a monster, a beast with many mouths and many eyes,” Lucifer responded. “It eats constantly, but its hunger never ends. Look, the first of the sacrifices scatter like cockroaches.” He pointed out the broken window, pushing his way through the mannequins effortlessly. I glanced outside, seeing thousands of people sprinting down the dark city streets. The inferno and thick clouds of smoke had moved much closer, and every few seconds, the ground shook slightly, as if we were experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.
“What can I do against such a beast?” I asked, my heart freezing with terror. But when I looked back over, I saw his form dissolving again, becoming translucent and drifting away like ashes. It seemed even Lucifer didn’t want to be present when the Hell-beast arrived.
“Seek divine wisdom,” he said, his voice trailing off into whispers. “Remember the source.”
***
Now crowds of tens of thousands of people were streaming into the city, filling every single inch of the streets. Their panic and fear was contagious. I felt it rising inside my body like a snake spiraling up my spine. I took off down the hallway, running through the swarm of frozen mannequins, each in their own ferocious position of attack. The lights flickered faster and went out. Yet the fires outside cast the entire world in a bloody glow, giving me enough light to see by and find my way. I sprinted down the stairwell, taking them two steps at a time. The screaming outside grew louder and more pain-filled. The shaking of the ground worsened with every passing second.
I burst out of the front entrance, seeing a world on fire all around me. Thousands of crushed, bleeding and burned bodies stretched out as far as the eye could see. Behind all this chaos and death, I saw a monster of unimaginable proportions slinking its way towards me.
Lucifer was right, I realized: Hell was not a place, but a creature, an enormous monster the size of a town. It had thousands of skittering, jointed legs that looked like little more than skeletal arms and hands, each of them dozens of feet long and white as freshly-cut marble. Its body stretched out to the horizon, an enormous blood-red cylinder of bony plates that slithered and undulated with a serpentine grace. Waves of peristalsis traveled down its length, like writhing intestines. Thousands of curving, bony spikes stabbed out of it, pointing in every direction. Like the quills of a porcupine, it would protect the massive creature’s body from many forms of attack, if anything was big enough to attack such an abomination.
Hell’s massive eyes flickered, balls of fire that spun and danced. They looked as bright as the Sun. Something like solar flares seemed to emanate from the orbs, flashes of blinding energy that floated over the apocalyptic wasteland. As its many legs smashed the ground, they left trails of fire that caused everything to explode into flames as if napalm dripped from its limbs.
But Hell’s most terrifying feature was its seven dark mouths. Its body looked a thousand feet wide, and the mouths at the front were evenly dispersed. At the front, blood-red teeth in the shape of enormous railroad spikes shone. Its lipless, skeletal face grinned as it moved forward, shaking the ground with every step. The mouths were on long, snake-like necks that could stretch out hundreds of feet. They moved forward in a blur, snapping up as many panicked souls as they could.
Countless souls in the rocky plains of the Bardo ran for their lives, away from this juggernaut. I saw men and women who looked like they came from every country and profession, some dressed in suits or spotless white lab coats, others wearing rags or orange prison jumpsuits. And yet, they all screamed in agony and fear here, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and no one seemed to remember anything but their own mortal terror. Their voices came out faint and weak next to the roaring of Hell. It shook the ground all around us, as if an earthquake were tearing the land apart.
The first frantic runners of the surging crowd had nearly reached me. The nearest person, a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in all white, was only ten feet behind me. She looked like she came from wealth, and even from here, I could see a ring with a massive diamond gleaming on her finger.
I took off blindly down the familiar streets of the city where I worked and lived, but these also seemed different. The church down the street from the hospital where I worked had a Satanic pentagram instead of a cross now, its exterior painted a bright, gleaming blood-red. When I had driven past it today on my way to work, I remember it read, “JESUS said, ‘I am the Way, the Truth and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.’”
Now it read, “Nietzsche said, ‘Of all evil, I deem you capable. I have often laughed at the weaklings who thought themselves good simply because they had no claws.’” I wondered what that meant. Was that some sort of comment on me, on all of us here?
The woman I had seen running had caught up with me. She was fast, much faster than her slim body suggested. Her blue eyes were frantic and wild, filled with an animal panic.
“It’s right behind us!” she screamed, her face covered in a sheen of sweat. I was afraid to turn and look, but I could hear the chaos and bloodshed approaching, smell the flames and choking smoke. “Run! Get away!”
A new wave of energy surged through my body. I sprinted as fast I could down the strange mirror streets of the Bardo. I heard the agonized cries of countless souls behind us as the seven mouths of Hell ate them all greedily and then looked for more.
A skyscraper behind us collapsed into a pile of rubble, shaking the ground with a cacophony of falling concrete and shattering glass. The woman was running by my side. Just as I heard the breathing of something huge and predatory right behind us and smelled its sulfuric breath, a piece of concrete the size of a basketball broke off the collapsing skyscraper and flew into the road. I tripped over it, yelling as I flew through the air, skinning my arms and legs on the pavement. The woman’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, she came over and reached down her hand, trying to help me up.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. I looked behind her, seeing one of the gnashing mouths of Hell reaching forward on a blood-red, serpentine neck. The mouth was big enough to drive a tractor trailer into, filled with huge spikes of teeth. Its throat led into a black, smoke-filled abyss. Its fiery eyes were swirling pools of flickering orange light that shone with bloodlust and insanity. They focused on the woman, the entire head turning on its slithering neck.
I frantically raised my hand, intertwining my fingers with hers. Her hand was warm and soft. She started to pull me to my feet when the mouth of Hell snapped forward. Its jaw unhinged, scraping the pavement with a sound like grinding metal. The woman barely had time to turn as the mouth covered her and snapped shut with a crack.
She disappeared from view instantly, but I was still holding her hand. In horror, I felt warm rivers of blood explode all over my body as the mouth of Hell severed her arm at the wrist. She screamed, bleeding and crying, as she disappeared into the throat of Hell. Hell’s fiery eyes focused on me, and at that moment, I knew I was next. Its mouth opened wide again, like a bear trap ready to spring on a new victim.
It was dark in Hell’s mouth, but I smelled the thick reek of old blood and fire. I caught glimpses of tortured, mutilated bodies writhing and crawling down its throat. Shell-shocked, I could only lay there and watch. And that was when the strange doubling started.
***
I heard the frantic voices of men break through the fog of darkness and the fetid reek of blood. There was a mechanical beeping all around me, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.
“Clear!” one cried. I looked around, only seeing blackness. At that moment, I felt a surge of electricity rip itself through my body. My arms and legs all seized and my eyes rolled up in my head as the pain sizzled through each one of my nerves. I clutched the young woman’s hand tightly, feeling the large, gold ring with the massive diamond biting into my skin.
“Again!” another voice yelled.
“Clear!” the original voice cried. The electricity came again, and a flash of white light flew across my vision. I blinked, seeing from two sets of eyes at the same time: one in the Bardo, and one on the blood-stained floor of the hospital ward.
The Bardo stayed dark and sinister, but the clear white lights of the real psychiatric ward were blinding. It was a bizarre experience. Moreover, everything hurt. Over a few seconds, my vision of the Bardo faded, and I was simply a gravely injured man laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.
Four doctors and paramedics were crouching over me with a defibrillator. My shirt was ripped off, and nearly all of my skin was covered in blood. I raised my left hand, trying to talk, but only a fiery pain raced through my neck. I felt bandages covering my skin. A nurse was rolling a stretcher down the hallway towards me.
“It’s OK,” one of the doctors said, kneeling down. “You’re being taken to emergency surgery. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t talk with the massive slice in my neck.
At that moment, I felt something in my right hand. I looked down, seeing a slim female hand with a massive diamond ring hanging there. Our fingers were wrapped around each other’s, but the hand had been cut off at the wrist. A ragged patch of bloody flesh and snapped bone poked out of the back.
“Nnnn,” I tried to say, shaking my head. I felt fresh streams of warm blood open up. “No…” The doctors looked down, seeing the dismembered hand. Their faces morphed into expressions of confusion and fear.
I closed my eyes as they lifted me up on the stretcher. One of them gently removed the cold hand from my fingers. But they could never remove the memory of what I had seen.
I know what happens after death, and it makes the worst life here seem like a dream. I know that, one day, I’ll be returned to that place. I know that, one day, I’ll see that great monster called Hell and the featureless, swirling sky of the Bardo again.
And the next time, I won’t wake up on a hospital floor, but will be trapped there with the others for eternity: an eternity of blood and fire.

The president said he would control Overseas direct purchase like electric, toy, Wires, cables and cords, switches, electronic switches, capacitors And power filters, electrical equipment accessories and connecting parts, fuses, breakers, AC power electric steamers and foot warmers, electric chargers, single cells, lamp holders, general lighting equipment, stabilizers and lamps Control devices, lithium secondary end cells, control devices for electric devices, compressors, electric hot water mats, waste heat recovery ventilation devices, water supply Freeze prevention devices, electric water purifiers, electric health appliances, bubble generating devices, wet towel drying devices and packaging devices, fluid pumps, electric baths, power supplies for computers, batteries, power conversion devices, lithium Secondary battery system, reusable battery module, reusable battery system, automobile regeneration tire, gas lighter, BB gun......
It's not joke.

Long story but I think I need to get it out for therapeutic purposes
TDLR: Ended up spending everything on a lemon, how do I make myself ok with this?
Also, I want to note that I fully understand that this is a privileged problem to have, with so many currently homeless or in the rental crisis.
In 2020 my partner and I built our first house. We were both low income with a dependent so we couldn't afford to build much. We went with a small bit of land in a very cheap suburb. We built our first house on a tight budget. I designed the floor plan, together we picked the finish. It was beautiful. Sadly though the backyard was too small, we couldn't sleep for traffic noise and we had an abusive neighbour. We decided to sell and walked away debt free (including personal loans etc) and over 100k profit, this was the start of the property boom.
Moved into a rental and planned to build a bigger house now finances were a bit better without the debt. Partner bought his dream car but we were left with enough for a build deposit. We purchased rural land and designed an amazing house. Due to job changes though the distance became an issue and we had to sell prior to building as it wasn't feasible. Luck was on our side again though and we made 10k profit from the land.
We planned to build local and purchased land. This is when building prices sky rocketed though and we were struggling to get what we wanted in budget. We also discovered my child needed access to swimming for therapy. Being in a rental the blow up swimming pool was not allowed and was about to cause us huge issues.
We found a house for sale that was large. On 700m2, had a beautiful pool and spa. It was listed for $599,000 to $630,000. The market was extremely competitive, and from previous experience when we sold our first house we went in with our best offer subject to building inspection. We offered $650,000 and had $30,000 left over for house improvements, we planned to heat the pool for our daughter etc. We got the building inspection and that came back with no defects and that the property was in good condition.
We moved In and everything went to hell from there. Turns out the flooring was a DIY and the grout was never sealed or whatever so our feet were constantly black. Even now 6 months later with constant cleaning the tiles always look dirty. We didn't realise things like linen cupboards were gutted. The spa does not work and needs to be chucked (bubbles work but doesn't heat and shorts out)the pool needed massive repairs (all this was meant to be checked by the specialised building inspector) the roof needs 20k of work, there's a leak behind the wall in the bathroom, the electrical work was a DIY job and a safety hazard, it's just endless issues.
Obviously our money quickly went to fixing the safety issues with nothing to spare and nothing to show for it. We can't heat the pool for my daughter so that can only be used in the height of summer. The spa was the back up plan for the dead of winter but that doesn't work and is so old would cost too much to fix. We don't even have access to a bath as she needs me in with her for regulation and it's so small I literally don't fit, I'm now squeezing in everynight and dealing with bad leg cramps each day. We knew the bath was small but figured the spa would be a happy replacement for water regulation. The floors have to be washed twice a day and are doing my head in. Can't fix any of the cosmetic issues like we'd planned.
I'm so angry and disappointed with myself for making the decision to buy this house but also not listening to my intuition. When we inspected the house privately the owners were walking out the front, and the female owner gave me a look and my intuition screamed don't buy, we fell in love though so I ignored it. I'm extremely angry at the building inspector who missed everything, we would not have bought this house with even one major defect since we had such limited liquid funds. I'm angry with my partner because he is not open to selling it and moving on, he wants to settle which I get, he hates moving as does my child, but it will be a very long time before this house has enough equity for any renovations.
How do I deal with the fact I was handed this golden opportunity to have a really nice house for my child and I blew it on this? How do I accept that I should have gotten two building inspections?

I ‘29 F’ have been dating my boyfriend ‘36 M’ for 4 years now. Before my boyfriend now I was in an extremely abusive relationship for 4 years. The abuse started after a week. It was verbal, to a slap, to punching, to kicking me while I was on the ground, breaking my fingers for fun to putting me in the hospital multiple times and sexual abuse. Once I was out of it I was able to recognize the patterns I was so blind to for 4 years. Love bombing, the apologies the “over protectiveness” that involved going through my phone and checking the odometer on my car. I met my current boyfriend shortly after cutting all ties with my ex. Restraining orders the whole nine yards. To put it simply he was the most gentle soul I’ve ever met. He’s taken care of me, been with me through several mental health breakdowns and the constant therapy and meds to help me recover from my past. I’ve been diagnosed with severe PTSD and still deal with panic attacks to this day. 9 months in we found out we were expecting a baby. A miracle considering my past injuries severely inhibited my fertility. Our son is 2 years old now with the most bubbly personality and loves his mommy and daddy. My boyfriend let me quit my job to be a stay at home mom because our son has some medical problems of his own that have required a lot of appointments and time.
To the current matter. Yesterday I was giving our son a bath. He’s recently developed a hate for water and was screaming every time the water touched him. It wasn’t too hot it was barely lukewarm as in the past I thought that might be the problem. I decided to just go fast get his hair washed and get him out so I could calm him down. In all fairness he was screaming bloody murder as 2 year olds sometimes do when something isn’t necessarily the biggest matter. My boyfriend kept popping in and out trying to bring him toys that he would then just chuck at me full of water. I was soaked and when he came in he was pushing in front of me blocking me from being able to catch him if he decided to throw himself down as 2 year olds sometimes do. The in and out was also making him madder. I screamed “Get out!” and slammed the bathroom door as soon as he was out, trying to get control of the situation in yes, probably the wrong way. Out of nowhere my boyfriend slammed the door open balled his fists screamed “do that again I’ll beat the fuck out of you” and half lunged. I flinched and every bad moment I’ve ever experienced in the past came back. So much so that I braced to take it. He never hit me, he stormed out and I blurted out “we’re breaking up” I got my son out of the bath, got him dried off and dressed trying my best not to cry and scare him although he probably already was. I was shaking as I hugged him looked at my boyfriend and just said “Get out”. He listened. He walked up the street and called an Uber and checked himself into an inpatient psych/rehab facility. He’s had substance use issues in the past we both have but we’ve both been clean these past 4 years and I know he hasn’t relapsed on substances but mental disorders yes. Depression, his own PTSD from being stabbed at 16.
Here’s my dilemma. He gets out of inpatient tommorow night. After my psycho ex I firmly set for myself boundaries that I would never allow to be crossed again. 1 strike and done. Everything I’ve learned about domestic violence tells me to run. I’m just stunned because not once in 4 years has this man ever made me feel anything but safe. My little boy loves his daddy and I do too. Do I tell myself “He won’t do it again” like I did all those years with my ex or do I believe it this time.
I cried all night last night trying to get my panic attacks under control after I put my son to bed. Emotionally I’ve been thrown back 2 years of progress and my son deserves a present mom. But doesn’t he also deserve his daddy? Will I ever be able to unsee those 15 seconds that have sent all our worlds into chaos?
We went to the park all day today and got happy meals if you need to hear something positive after all that.

Hey, friends. Both of these are 1 oz. Purchased about two months ago at Nordstrom. Just not my thing. Barely used. See levels in pic. I sure would love to find MM Coffee Break or a partial of Young Rose but am open to any fresh, green, soapy, or gourmand scents- fem or unisex only pls :)
https://imgur.com/a/OfDab4d

I ‘29 F’ have been dating my boyfriend ‘36 M’ for 4 years now. Before my boyfriend now I was in an extremely abusive relationship for 4 years. The abuse started after a week however. It was verbal, to a slap, to punching, to kicking me while I was on the ground, breaking my fingers for fun to putting me in the hospital multiple times and sexual abuse too graphic to put here. Once I was out of it I was able to recognize the patterns I was so blind to for 4 years. Love bombing, the apologies the “over protectiveness” that involved going through my phone and checking the odometer on my car. I met my current boyfriend shortly after cutting all ties with my ex. Restraining orders the whole nine yards. To put it simply he was the most gentle soul I’ve ever met. He’s taken care of me, been with me through several mental health breakdowns and the constant therapy and meds to help me recover from my past. I’ve been diagnosed with severe PTSD and still deal with panic attacks to this day. 9 months in we found out we were expecting a baby. A miracle considering my past injuries severely inhibited my fertility. Our son is 2 years old now with the most bubbly personality and loves his mommy and daddy. My boyfriend let me quit my job to be a stay at home mom because our son has some medical problems of his own that have required a lot of appointments and time.
To the current matter. Yesterday I was giving our son a bath. He’s recently developed a hate for water and was screaming every time the water touched him. It wasn’t too hot it was barely lukewarm as in the past I thought that might be the problem. I decided to just go fast get his hair washed and get him out so I could calm him down. In all fairness he was screaming bloody murder as 2 year olds sometimes do when something isn’t necessarily the biggest matter. My boyfriend kept popping in and out trying to bring him toys that he would then just chuck at me full of water. I was soaked and when he came in he was pushing in front of me blocking me from being able to catch him if he decided to throw himself down as 2 year olds sometimes do. The in and out was also making him madder. I screamed “Get out!” and slammed the bathroom door as soon as he was out, trying to get control of the situation in yes, probably the wrong way. Out of nowhere my boyfriend slammed the door open balled his fists screamed “do that again I’ll beat the fuck out of you” and half lunged. I flinched and every bad moment I’ve ever experienced in the past came back. So much so that I braced to take it. He never hit me, he stormed out and I blurted out “we’re breaking up” I got my son out of the bath, got him dried off and dressed trying my best not to cry and scare him although he probably already was. I was shaking as I hugged him looked at my boyfriend and just said “Get out”. He listened. He walked up the street and called an Uber and checked himself into an inpatient psych/rehab facility. He’s had substance use issues in the past we both have but we’ve both been clean these past 4 years and I know he hasn’t relapsed on substances but mental disorders yes. Depression, his own PTSD from being stabbed at 16.
Here’s my dilemma. He gets out of inpatient tommorow night. After my psycho ex I firmly set for myself boundaries that I would never allow to be crossed again. 1 strike and done. Everything I’ve learned about domestic violence tells me to run. I’m just stunned because not once in 4 years has this man ever made me feel anything but safe. My little boy loves his daddy and I do too. Do I tell myself “He won’t do it again” like I did all those years with my ex or do I believe it this time.
I cried all night last night trying to get my panic attacks under control after I put my son to bed. Emotionally I’ve been thrown back 2 years of progress and my son deserves a present mom. But doesn’t he also deserve his daddy? Will I ever be able to unsee those 15 seconds that have sent all our worlds into chaos?
We went to the park all day today and got happy meals if you need to hear something positive after all that.

My partner has recently come out as mtf while I fully support their decision and have been supportive in many ways (shaving, doing makeup, face masks, bubble baths, hair, perfume and painting their nails for them) I just want to make sure I’m doing everything correctly. I don’t know if I’ve missed something and would like some advice on what more I can do. We are currently on vacation with their mom and aunt and I’m the only one other than my partner that knows. They have recently come out within the past week and I have done all of this thus far just out of support and love but I’m just slightly anxious for our relationship that everything will continue to go well once we return home. I overthink and I have my own mental health issues I’ve been figuring out such as anxiety, depression, and I’ve been diagnosed with adhd. Thank you in advance for any responses🩷

I bought a cuisinart ice cream maker off fb marketplace yesterday and I put the bowl in the freezer and tried making ice cream multiple times since then and it hasn't gotten past the liquid stage. I have a kitchen aid ice cream maker bowl but hated how clunky it was, hence getting the cuisinart. I've made ice cream before I'm having trouble with the cuisinart. Does anyone have any tips? The ice cream mixture is cold, I used the recipe below:
Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream Prep Time10 minutes Cook Time20 minutes freeze time3 hours Total Time3 hours 30 minutes
INGREDIENTS 7 egg yolks 1 1/4 cup granulated sugar 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 tbsp malted milk powder 3 cups heavy cream 1 cup whole milk 1 tablespoon vanilla extract / 2 tsp vanilla bean paste
INSTRUCTIONS In the bowl of your stand mixer add the egg yolks, sugar, and salt. Using the paddle attachment, beat on medium speed until pale yellow and light and airy. About 4-5 minutes. In a large pan heat the cream and milk over low heat, stir occasionally. If you have an instant read thermometer the mixture will reach 155-160°F. If you don't have a thermometer, the will be hot but not boiling! Turn the mixer to low and add the heated cream in a slow, steady, stream. Mix until thoroughly combined, about 3 minutes. Pour the cream/egg mixture back into the pan and heat over medium-low heat stirring constantly. Heat to 155-160°F. If you don't have a thermometer heat until it thickens and coats the back of a spoon. It should NOT boil, however, a few bubbles may come up along the edges. Remove from the heat and add the vanilla. Set a fine mesh strainer over a large bowl. Pour the warm ice cream mixture into the bowl (through the fine mesh strainer)* Cool the mixture over an ice bath, stirring every few minutes. After about 10-15 minutes place the mixture in the refrigerator until completely chilled. Set up your ice cream machine according to the manufacturers directions. With the machine running, add the mixture in a slow steady stream. Churn according to the directions. Transfer the churned ice cream to an airtight container and place in the freezer for several hours to firm up. Serve with your choice in toppings!

Hi everyone! I have gel versions of both of these colors and every time I do them it comes out blotchy and streaky. Any tips?

Hello, I’m going to be swapping my cams out soon and while I’m this deep in the heads I figured I will swap the hydraulic lash adjusters as well as my engine has 170,000 miles on it.
I understand that I need to bleed the air out of the HLAs before I install them, but I see some videos of people compressing them and then adding them to an oil bath, and some videos of people just adding them to an oil bath without compressing them first. I’ve heard stories of PTV contact after incorrect bleeding, so my question is what is the proper way to bleed a hydraulic lash adjuster? (4.6 ford 2v) Thanks