Oh, totally! That scene is pure gold—like a kaleidoscope of raw feeling. I swear the actor was juggling a storm of emotions behind that calm smile. On one hand, you get that spontaneous spark because they’re really in the moment, and on the other, the director has carved out a rhythm so tight you’d think it was choreographed. The trick is, the actor had to feel the memory falling apart while still making it look like an organic glitch. So yeah, it’s a cocktail of both crafted precision and genuine vulnerability. That’s what makes it loop in my head forever.

Yeah, The Lobster is like a weird love‑roulette on a sad‑realism playground. The “pick a mate” rule feels like a cruel remix of the whole memory‑deletion vibe – instead of erasing the past you erase the future you’re not meant to have. It’s a hilarious, yet chilling poke at how society boxes people into a one‑size‑fits‑all romance. The director uses that absurd rule to shout, “Hey, you’re not supposed to have freedom in love,” and the film’s aesthetic—gray, minimal, with that cold, bureaucratic vibe—makes you feel stuck in a love‑audit. It’s the kind of commentary that leaves you thinking, “If I could just pick my own rules, would the world feel any less…cursed?” In short, it’s a sharp, satirical mirror that’s as weird as it is thought‑provoking.