Sandra's off-the-cuff remark that "my father is a proctologist and my mother is an abstract artist: that's how I see the world" is an early warning of her often scatological, often surrealist commentaries on the conventions and pop culture of our time. The wild musical interludes, broken up by deadpan monologues, and hilariously backhanded commentary by her fictionized former agent and an old "friend", will never be forgotten by any viewer, whether fan or not.
In this earlier incarnation, Sandra was the foremost artist of emotional abjection. A character who encounters rejection and misunderstanding everywhere, yet one whom the viewer soon identifies as easily the most intelligent person in the room. It is neither her religion nor her sexuality which marginalize her, but the particular pitch of her wit and her kaleidescopic view of cultural phenomena.
Sandra's scatter-shot talents range from singing to dancing to acting to writing, but, as this film demonstrates, the sum of her brilliance is greater than any one (though also brilliant!) part.
Sandra is a national treasure who might just change and even save your life. She is tragi-comedy incarnate. Support her artistic productions: as a one-of-a-kind artist, she is certainly an endanged species.