The underlying absurdity and tragedy of Chainsaw Man lies in its insistence that love--however spontaneous, however tender in its gesture--is never separable from the machinery that gives it form: desire becomes an apparatus of exchange, affection a currency of survival, and sincerity itself a tactical posture within an economy of wounds, so that each declaration of feeling bears the absurd weight of its own contradiction, at once genuine and instrumental, fleeting and fatal. Denji, whose heart is both organ and object, learns that to love is to submit to a cycle of revelation and mutilation, where tenderness assumes the rhythm of dismemberment and intimacy the structure of ambush; yet it is precisely in this repetition of betrayal that the film discloses its cruel lyricism--the recognition that love, stripped of its illusions of transcendence, persists as a kind of mechanical grace, absurd not because it deceives but because it endures even after its object is lost, continuing to beat in the hollow between devotion and annihilation, as if the heart, no longer metaphor but machine, could still dream of being human.---I may return to these thoughts in greater depth once I can devote to them the time they deserve.
>>215565978Fuck off tranny
>>215565978I'm not reading any of this.
