A silver rhombus spins on a table. Alison Moyet walks past people talking in the dining room. She opens a closet and sings into a microphone. The people continue to talk as she walks by them. She sings on the balcony at night.
A thirtysomething woman drops a wine glass on the table. She laughs as she sits on the couch. A fortysomething man puts his hand on the couch as he talks with a fortysomething woman. The curtain blows in the wind as Moyet continues to sing on the balcony. She watches a few couples dance as she stands by the curtain. As she walks, she fades. The people fade as they dance as she remains corporeal. She closes the closet and holds a wine glass in her hand.
Alison Moyet chimes in with her opinion on the existence of sitcoms. A thirtysomething man and woman glance at her and continue their conversation their preference of American or British sitcoms. She says “hello” to a fortysomething man, a former classmate of hers at college. He turns his head and gets up from the couch. At the table, he hugs a second thirtysomething woman.
She bumps into the closet. People chatter as she rubs her forehead. Some laughter would’ve been welcomed. People would be at least acknowledging her, even if it was to degrade her. The wine spills on the carpet. She stares as the puddle dries and forms a perfect circle. A coat catches her eye. She tries it on and admits it looks good on her. In a drawer, she sees a silver pendant and puts it around her neck.
The second thirtysomething woman shouts “my carpet!” The second thirtysomething man says their is a thief among. He threatens prosecution. Moyet slings the jacket on her arm as she listens at the table. People object, saying it wasn’t them. Moyet walks out the door, her wine glass still in hand.
Director: N/A Year: 1984