Last night Amy and I went to see Una Mujer Fantástica (2017) at the International Village theatres. I had no background on the film and did not know why the characters in the life of this grieving woman were treating her as if she were not a woman until the fifteenth minute. A feature of age? A mind preternaturally indisposed to the kinds of lines many are doing their best to collapse, redefine? Who I am for not noticing anything other than this character's wit, wisdom and beauty?
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