I’ve never watched a film so beautifully strange. It started with no bars hold, plunging you straight into its strangely-created plot without warning, without you being able to stop to comprehend why. Stifled and stiff housewife, with an innate emotional and sexual need to be herself and who she naturally is. It’s an imaginary portrait of diane arbus’ life unfolding through a compelling series of events which leads her to the strangest man ever, one that she found she loved and lived life to the fullest experiencing the deep spectrums of emotions one in love could ever do so and how it could bring out a soul. Wasn’t much about the story plot that really took your breath away, it’s the cinematography, the way certain scenes were captured, the moments where it was so raw and intense, that everything was striped away leaving the soul bare at its weakest that really takes your breath away. And yet, it was sad, when you see how a good man so in love with his wife and having to watch her transformation from immaculate and devoted to her turning away from the ways of the world to lead what would be wild and strange according to the norms of culture. It just ate his soul inside out. For her, there’s no turning back, her life’s work would be dedicated to the difference between people and the paradox of individuality. Each and everyone of her pictures would explore the dark side of human nature as it really is.