Well, this was certainly strange. Vincent Gallo was really well-suited for this part; his slimeball shtick (made even better by the addition of a thin mustache) is perfect for the doctor/possible vampire thingy that jacks off in the bathroom of a hotel room while his new wife stands outside listening. I'll be honest; I don't know what the fuck happened in this one. Some scientists create a virus that makes Vincent Gallo eat a woman's vagina? Or something? There is some truly beautiful, haunting imagery, though, and the emotional content of the film is rich, disturbing. The plot is vague, and scenes are mostly comprised of short snapshots of conversations, or people staring at puppies through store windows, or lying in bed smoking cigarettes. But there is something happening here, something below the surface. The film mostly works on a subconscious level, tapping into memories and just-barely-there feelings and color and transcendent, bloody truth. The ending seems unsatisfying at first, but I think that it ended in the best way possible. No resolution, no cures, no salvation, and no answers. There are two particularly disturbing scenes of sex that turn to violence, and almost no dialogue. The long spaces of silence allow for contemplation, a sort of wondering about the world that the film shows you. Clair Denis allows time for the viewer to think about what's going on, and then does absolutely nothing to confirm or deny your suspicions. This one demands re-watching; perhaps repeated viewings will reveal more insight. Or maybe they'll just make me more confused. Or maybe insight and confusion are the exact same thing. Maybe I'm a vampire, too.