Dazzling uber-narcissistic one-man-band self-portrait, shot on a shoestring by Norwegian self-obsessive (narrates in halting English) G.H.J.Travels to India in search of enlightenment (unwise.) "Finds himself" bemid the Ashrams/Himalayas etc.Underfed mid30s man, suffers midlife shenanigans: hypochondriac / diabetic / overanalytic / borderline sociopath. We feel pity and love for the c*nt, hpless schmuckk that he is. We forgive him his dopey trespasses: behaves very caddishly to girlfriends, previous GFs.We feel odd pity / contempt combo, which grows into something rather deeper by the end (via remarkable scene with him and his dead father's corpse). Hits the bottle very hard. Idolises Bukowski (fair enough) and Mishima (dodgy).Has great, inspiringly instinctive knack for film-making / editing / framing / composition / music / cinematography, which saves the day and then some. This is what Tarnation could and should have been, but somehow wasn't. Makes you think of Coppola's "little fat girl" quote: ironic that she should turn out to be this thin Norwegian 40-y-o.Yeah, ". . . and suddenly one day, some little fat girl in Ohio is going to be the next Mozart and make a beautiful film with her father's little camera, and for once the so-called professionalism of movies will be destroyed forever and it will become an art form."