Watt's first feature, "Look Both Ways," at least some of these calamities are imaginary, arising in the disaster-prone mind of an artist named Meryl and rendered in the movie by bursts of painterly, jewel-toned animation. After they kiss and make up, notice especially a montage of images used by Sarah Watt.
And yet without death, we'd all be bored out of our minds, if indeed we had even developed minds in the first place. Phil the editor runs the photo across half the front page, and Andy's speculations inside.
To these animated visuals, which are abrupt and violent, the movie adds montages from the pasts of the characters, especially Nick; when he learns of his cancer, his life flashes before his eyes, somewhat prematurely. All the men have things on their minds. Meryl and Nick start a relationship that seems doomed in view of their fear of disasters and death.
Nick takes a photograph of the wife, Julia, in anguish as she learns of her husband's death. And, despite her penchant for apocalyptic visions, she wants a boyfriend.In that montage are love and death and the whole damn thing. These are not the acts of an editor much concerned with the feelings of the widow. The film follows them during a swelteringly hot weekend. She knocked around for years in theater and in art before discovering that she could combine them by making animated films. But some are real, instances of the dire possibilities we routinely ignore as we blithely board trains, cross streets and munch burgers. His thoughts are reflected in a form that fits his profession, photo-montage. To be sure, nature is hardly more reliable: sparkling blue water hides ravenous sharks, a night of sex results in three hideous infants in a triple stroller, a plate of French fries leads directly to cancer. I watched the movie in a kind of fascination. He doesn't want a kid. Watt's husband. A man tries to stop his dog being run down by a train and is killed himself. Gilbert and the victim's wife, Julia Daniela Farinacci.