LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA—At the pharmacy, a young man wearing a gray hoodie, cargo shorts, flip-flops, and an expensive-looking, black air-purifying mask leans on the crowd-control barrier, rubs his bare hands listlessly back and forth across it, then wipes his eyes. Then he puts his hands back on the barrier. The mask muddles his voice, and the pharmacist can’t understand what he’s saying. My screenwriter friends would flag this scene for being a bit too on-the-nose. (...) Sarah Manguso March 19, 2020
de Cristina Fernandes e Rui Manuel Amaral