despite: or rather because of my ongoing emotional dependency on the presence of Madonna’s cultural works in my life (early on there's a scene, where Madonna comes back home after teaching a yoga class, and comes across her soon-to-be-ex, who packs his things and aims to leave, she calls her best friend Rupert Everett, who preps her for the heartbreaking moment, and she enters the space, they exchange some small talk, after which Madonna approaches a closet, observes him through the mirror, and changes into a indigo dress, while mooning him slightly with half of her butt peeking through, "this ain't gonna work this time," says he, "what's not gonna work?" she asks, "your fantastic body," he responds and approaches her to kiss her neck and tell her that it's not her, since she's perfect, but it's him, since he's too immature to be with her, this film may be perfect, as is its star, but only as a vehicle to finally say goodbye, so goodbyeeeee)
time managed: 35-40 min (I really wanted to get to the maligned “third act,” but, guess what, I couldn’t)
