How do you spend a day trying to forget about your death?
Try to work on a new song? Get a drink? Undertake some pointless excursion with some stranger and pretend to fall in love?
Cleo is dying and she's twiddling her thumbs waiting for the results of her biopsy.
My favorite scene is when she walks into the cafe, goes to the jukebox, plays on her songs, and sits and waits for people to comment about the song.
The chance that they could say something mean would drive me crazy. I couldn't do it. Thankfully, artists today have the Internet. I mean, there's no way that bands and artists don't know how much people really hate them. That has to be depressing.
Although, why couldn't Coldplay -- and not Cleo -- get cancer?
Neat info: 38 years later, director Agnes Varda would make the documentary "The Gleaners and I." Also, Varda was present for Jim Morrison's funeral in Paris. Doesn't a funeral seem to formal for Morrison? I think he would've preferred to be shot into space or launched in a submarine into the Mariana Trench.
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