The score by Stephen McKeon is melancholy, mournful, and culminates in a magnificent lament. The horns enter gradually and become increasingly louder and more dire. Just as Shore’s scores for Cronenberg or Burwell’s scores for the Coens are diagetically hitting us, they also emotionally resonate with us. What is onscreen could oftentimes feel inconsequential in the grand scope, and at times ridiculous, but the score elevates it. It bursts, humorously so, into what could be an ironic requiem for those perpetually ingrained in the cycle of a self-bending life—twisting and shattering—twisted by their own doing, fragmenting by fate, or a delicate dance of both.