I took another look at the great film Docteur Chance (F.J. Ossang, 1997) the other day, for the first time in a few years. This time I felt the urge to read it - very faintly - as an allegory of capitalism. Here: the re-emergence of certain techniques of 1920s French avant-narrative, filtered through punk, and emplotted within a story about living with copious resources ... all on the precipice of its own destruction. There's even a scene where Angstel goes to the docks, the substrate, the big boxes (yes, those big boxes Noel Burch and Allan Sekula made their movie about, which I've yet to see). "No future," like the Sex Pistols say.