The pace and rhythm in Piñero’s Viola is something akin to a particular melody that can only represented in a film that prioritizes movement and velocity, in terms of how characters interact with one another, both internally and externally. Secrets and antidotes are provided off-screen with non-diegetic and diegetic music alternating the spotlight, creating moments of disorientation that never feel alienating because of the humanity of the text being spoken. Comparisons to Rohmer and Rivette are imminent because the internet says so, but I find the blending of the subjective camera (scenes in which we’re above our quarreling characters at at three-fourth angle with a long lense) and the mystifying editing (transitions and introductions of characters that are bookend by pauses in action that make you question the reality of the current scene) to be something that plays more on the sensory elements of cinema in ways those two filmmakers were not necessarily interested in. this all resulted in a polyphonic examination of beliefs, morality, and the performances people must act out in order to sustain relationships.