The Criterion Collection Edition of Your Existence
The Criterion Collection edition of your existence lists for $39.99 and, unlike the pathetic single-disc standard edition popular among misers and minimalists, contains nearly ninety-five hours of special features newly compiled by your friends, family, psychologist and personal trainer. The audio commentary was recorded in an amphitheater filled with everyone you’ve ever met, all of them equipped with microphones and directed to say everything they couldn’t or wouldn’t say, or ambiguously hinted at via misleading subtext, during their actual encounters with you. The deleted scenes, remastered and re-scored by David Lynch, make available for the first time every memory you’ve ever repressed or lost to too many drinks. Your parents consented to re-enact the scene of your conception for the ‘Making-Of’ featurette, which using your remote can be viewed from multiple angles, all of them (per your parents’ request) in extreme close-up. Your life now has a laugh-track option.
Critics are are already calling the Criterion Collection edition of your life “a sort of deadpan tragedy, an (admittedly extreme) reminder of the million little ways we waste away our lives—crying, sleeping, masturbating. The film can also be read as a critique of our web-dependent culture; the protagonist spends hours just sitting there, staring at a screen, and yet what, exactly, the protagonist is looking at remains a mystery to the viewer—it’s obscured by their head. One gets the eerie sense, mid-way through the film, that the protagonist is staring at nothing, is transfixed by nothing more than a glowing backlight,” and another critic said “four stars!”
