A rainbow fistful of tubular-formed pill casings. An axe, eloquent in light wood, wrapped in brown paper, tossed nonchalantly into an oversized Chanel bag. Dog acting. A phone rings, causing a mug-cradling Tilda Swinton to snap her head around with precision melodrama. A red suit. A blue suit. A police-station line-up of priceless Ettore Sottsass vases piled just out of reach. Tilda hurls a ceramic. Tilda smashes a champagne flute. A gas-can that looks to've cost more than my education. Fire-engine red, of course. A Krups coffee maker. Fire-engine red, of course. Turtlenecks. Spangled black and gold Aladdin pants. An elaborate ballgown dragging across a warehouse's dirty cement. More dog acting. Scrims. A stack of DVDs including Phantom Thread. Contemplating eating, but thinking better of it. Using said eating as a ruse. A cine-visual Strait-jacket reference. Self-descriptive "melancholy and madness." Dog acting. Melodrama. Flames. Fire engine red, of course.