. . . doesn't make much sense, neither do any of the three versions of THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ELEANOR RIGBY (namely, THEM, HER, and this HIM). The third time is NOT always the charm (but HIM rates the best score, as it's much shorter than THEM or HER). If quantity equaled quality, there would be three versions of HEAVEN'S GATE, ISHTAR, and PLUTO NASH, making them hallowed screen classics. The final credits for each of this pretentious RIGBY trio of features list the standard functionaries of "film editor," "script supervisor," and "writer\director." Therefore, what excuse can there be for daring each audience member to slog through five and a half hours (or 325 minutes, to be exact!) of RIGBY raw footage to stitch together an individually unique 75 minutes worth of semi-passable material in the mind's eye? (It's no easier to make a silk purse from three sows' ears--or 325--than it would be to pull off the miracle from just one!) Though it may seem like it from this hash of things, the Rigby cast ain't exactly chopped liver. Finally, while there may be just "50 ways to leave your lover," there's probably more than 100 theories as to how and why Cody died. While Pre-natal Twizzler poisoning and John Lennon's Curse sound tempting to me, my money's on a case of terminal boredom (from being around Conor and Eleanor two whole months, after learning myself what 325 minutes with them does to a person!).
