there is a scene in the new bill cunningham doc that is perhaps one of the holiest things ive seen on screen this year.

we spend the year with the extravagant luxury of his subjects, and the monastic life of cunningham--and we see him be fun, garrulous, even at 80, having this charming good time...no grief, just transient unherichal pleasure.

and then he is asked two questions. one about sex, which he bats away (and the follow up about friendship and intimacy, which he assumes to be code, adn then is charming when he realised it is not) then, he is asked about his religious practice, and for 30 seconds his body falls into itself, he is not present, and the absence stops the movie.

the intimacy of that moment, and the intensity of it, makes everything else so serious.