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AN OVERSIMPLIFICATION OF HER BEAUTY
The word “oversimplification” does not immediately come to mind when regarding Terence Nance’s debut feature. More like “overcomplicated.” And since the effusive voiceover narrations (there are at least three) encourage an overuse of modifiers, I would add to the list “exuberant,” “narcissistic,” “solipsistic,” “mercurial,” and “poetic.” But the excess and earnestness suit the subject – the ephemeral and all-consuming nature of romantic love.
Nance plays himself, and he’s got it bad, but what “it” is is not easy to define, and he tries a lot of different ways to do so. A brief lyrical opening credit sequence (the music on the soundtrack is outstanding) follows him as he carries some boards to his Brooklyn brownstone.