pud intended.

Short Cuts. 2nd Altman (RIP) flick thus far. And it's a doozy, replete with comas, phone sex, jazz, and Tom Waits. And Fred Ward. It's too bad that this film is so frequently lumped in with ensemble pieces like Crash, and SC simulacrum "Magnolia." What separates this film from the latter is the fact that it's not nearly as heavy handed or into itself.

Altman's feminist bent is present in droves. Bare vages seem to be of thematic significance as is the interplay between sexually potent females and pudenda obsessed men. Julianne Moore is forever NSFW, for better or worse. Tim Robbins as a traffic cop kicks game to a woman in a clown costume.

Short Cuts is a skewed and twisted slice of life that explores failed and failing relationships, death and denial, and drinking in the city with a cast that rivals any in recent memory. Altman handles his biz. I don't care what anybody says, PT Anderson bit this movie hard and is clearly the Quentin Tarantino of overlong multiplot.

Criterion Collection is oversexed.