I could sense the presence of comedy, but I couldn’t laugh, everything felt so desperate, and there was such a painful familiarity in it. When my father was unfairly dismissed from a job he had held for over 25 years, he lost himself. There is something deeply toxic in our society, this constant tendency to tie our worth to our work. My father found other jobs, but his sense of value never returned. I think it was lost when we had to sell the house he had spent a lifetime working to afford, when the cars that once filled the garage (his greatest passion) never came back. There is something equally harmful in how we link our worth to material possessions. He couldn’t get out of bed for months, so consumed by depression. I will never forget the times I tried to feed him in that bed, his eyes empty and distant. The times I cried and begged him to react, to show some sign of himself. My father had other jobs, but the pain of losing his purpose never healed. Those were difficult times for our family. We never got our house back, and we couldn’t afford another. So I couldn’t laugh. I couldn’t feel happy about the ending either, especially because that was never the director’s intention. There is nothing funny about this film. Everything in it is profoundly disturbing.