Tale of erotic obsession from first-time director Jennifer Chambers Lynch, daughter of director David Lynch (Twin Peaks, etc.). The protagonist, a masterful surgeon but a stammering, stumbling idiot when it comes to his object of obsession, tries to hold on to her by amputating both her legs (Twin Stumps, so to speak) and staying home from work to tend to her 'round the clock. A situation somewhat reminiscent of The Collector develops (a caller comes to the front door, the prisoner is bound and gagged, and so on), most particularly in the captive's reluctance to return her captor's devotion. The little ingrate is prone to throw things at him, slap him, choke him. And so, partly inspired by the plaster reproduction of the Venus de Milo in the parlor, he lops off both her arms for good measure. But he continues to love her no less, even as there gets to be less and less of her to love. (It's a metaphor of love, you see. Or maybe you don't.) Then things really begin to get strange -- so much so that the entire business turns out in the end to have been a dream. Well, not the entire business. In fact, not nearly enough of it. But no matter. The it-was-only-a-dream excuse is not just a bad excuse; it's no excuse. Julian Sands, Sherilyn Fenn, Bill Paxton, Art Garfunkel. (1993) — Duncan Shepherd
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