Despite a few cliched moments, the film is smart and stylish, cagily self-conscious, appealing but not mesmerizing, beautiful, but fortunately not gorgeous. Its message is a meditation on the complexion of death as part of life, successfully generating the idea of death as life's beginning. The idea itself rebukes post-modern culture, and the film works hard to engage that. But a disappointing script, and editing which strives for supra noir effect, leaves the impression of a film without real justification except artfulness. Not a bad cause, but one to be considered before purchase. Still, a film 'about' Zen is bound to be captivating especially for Zennists, and perhaps western Buddhists in general. I enjoyed it, but have difficulty recommending it for most viewers even though most of us need the message desperately. The film is darkly hilarious, and yet shallow given the prospects raised by the title's idea. Rosenbush takes an intriguing run with it. How well he fares is a question up for grabs, decided by one's interest in things fanciful and yet strangely intimate. The film's artifice is its magic, and it's often winning, but never transforming. For what it's worth, I'm many years a Zen practitioner.