Call this Petri's "Weekend." Every cityscape is full of trash. Every dog, though leashed, is out of control. Strange things happen in odd corners of the screen. Or call it a film for our times: terrorism, assassination...展开, strikes, blackouts, mental illness, monitored constantly yet constantly accepted. Or if not accepted, then subjugated to more immediate concerns: It's also an intensely erotic film, in a mental sort of way, if failure can be erotic, as if Lina Wertmuller's Giancarlo Giannini found education, shiny suits, and philosophy. Like "Pierrot le fou"'s Ferdinand, he's always reading, though I don't think we ever see what.