"La Passione" felt first like it was filmed similar to A Single Man. FRame after frame, eerily rolling by, slower and slower, letting you fester and seep into what's about to happen. We follow our eyes, their eyes, her eyes, her breasts, will they be exposed? Oh Natalia...the glue does hold. As do you, the minute you're the muse. We hope for your happiness, although your chosen to be doomed, to be a good little girl in a place that isn't you, with friends that aren't yours. Nor is this place anymore. You've lived well beyond your short time and your beauty just adds fuel to the fire. Should you fight back? Could you? Ill-begotten thoughts such as these wash from you during your baptism, your death's cleansing and last rite's ritual before acceptance of sacrifice. Cliff Martinez creeps in, dubbing Sleep No More and it's dancy naked minotaur meeting head to head with artistic direction from Julie Taymor's Frida, or just James Franco and his dreams of The Cell, and leather, and Jean Paul Gaultier. Her angel reassures her that this is meant to be, for the public may choose one to bestow their own insecurities, and therefore set that sinner to death for all's well-being. She whispers, "Women these days self-immolate for what you, our Joan, is willing to preserve, and that's truth." She thinks to herself. My truth. That I exist, and that you have earned the same right to take your life, as they, the public, believe they do. And when they do, they'll know, because of me, because of you, because of this, that they are wrong. And that they need to change...and so they will. Some day, when they open their eyes as wide as you, and I, they will.