Rock-and-roll romance: British punker Sid Vicious (bassist of the Sex Pistols) and American junkie Nancy Spungen living and loving as if there's no tomorrow: and indeed there were not to be a lot of them; and near the end, as drug use escalates to obliviating levels, there wasn't much in the way of "today" either. The viewpoint is peculiarly detached yet narrow in scope, intimate yet uninformative and imperceptive. (And any difficulty in understanding the accents — or is it the recording quality? — only enhances the impression of being on the inside while still being "out of it.") As the movie goes along, this schizophrenic viewpoint comes to seem subjectively accurate as a reflection of the central characters. It's a movie almost entirely of ambience, with little in the way of incident or detail, but the ambience feels very right — outside of some absurdist touches by director Alex Cox (Repo Man) which seem to be lobbed in from some Olympian promontory. But these, too, as the end nears, come to seem subjectively accurate. To paraphrase the preface of a very different movie: if it didn't happen this way, it should have. With Gary Oldman and Chloe Webb. (1986) — Duncan Shepherd