behind my father's bipolar alcoholism lurked the constant spectre of DID and so it's weird watching robocop cause, like... peter weller, miguel ferrer and red from that 70's show each embody three of his faces or personalities, and it shows how great casting is the type of spiritual recognition where you perceive the essence of someone in their relation to a struggle within the broader consciousness.
the film retains an uncanny relevance, in part, for i feel verhoeven was able to stare directly into the fragmented soul of the american man and as he delivers a staged depiction of its cowboys and indians/cops and robbers system-induced self-suicide where every day is a brother vs. brother war, on the streets and in the boardrooms, (but not the gender-integrated lockerroom) hold its dick in his hand and whisper sweetly to it as he laughed along and fed it viagra.
it makes me think of the only good scene in the film version of dr. sleep where grown-up danny torrence (played by ewan mcgregor) talks about only knowing his father's rage
it makes one remember rage is what achilles is remembered for
it fills me with a loneliness i fear will never end and the knowledge in the depths of my being that death will never exist
