Feels free-associative like some writers screamed out words -- Cello! Lesbians! China! Self-mutilation! -- and kept whatever stuck their fancy, drawing a through-line after the fact; I say this as a sort of compliment? The Perfection has got that bonkers Martyrs feel where one moment swerves violently to the next keeping you entirely untethered but by the end they somehow manage to, mostly, make sense of it. There are some China-sized plot-holes, sure, but there's a pleasantness to the psycho experience, and to the conclusion they squirrel out of their self-imposed chaos. Your allegiances shift like a season of Survivor put into a blender -- it's a fruit smoothie of nuts and fingers.
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