The hand motifs of the movie "The Killing of a Sacred Deer" (2017) featuring Nicole Kidman, Colin Farrell, Alicia Silverstone, Barry Keoghan and others are as repugnant as grandma's corpse decaying in the attic. Who ever thought about a bit alcohol could ruin a whole family, rather two families? Or was it just this devious kid (Martin) incarnated by devil or another crazy metaphysical creature that has learned what revenge really means?! Not at all! Let us note: The father killed his own son! It's enough to make you weep. Blood! How else could one endure the brutalities of this movie if not by irony and deep black humor? Or to put it in mother's words:

Yes, you're right. Let's wait a little longer until we are all dead and then see what you can do about it. There's really nothing to worry about.

Now before you decide to bite your nipples, better try your arm, cause one day, maybe, you will be able to stand up and walk with your own feet again. That's not a joke! Deadly serious. Before hangman will take us out of our lifes, there is always a possibility to escape. Just have in mind that the definition of a "good" life is to a large extent in your own hand and...

..[d]on't get hysterical. It's not that tragic. Sometimes your body hurts from not moving and you can't sleep. That's all. The important thing is to make sure that everything you need is within reach. That's all. You'll see.

Who studied philosophy here and is able to split up these kinds of questions? It seems like the agents did not! How could they even have done that at all and when? Demi-god in white married his sexy blond wife, founded a wonderful family, built an overblown house, created a peaceful home. Existential questions of why being just an unexceptionable ant in an anthill, within a world that is maybe just a blue marble within a subordinated children's room universe, seemed too much to stripe in a direct sense and could have maybe destroyed the nice front yard. Who is to blame for all this? The surgeon? The shocked, desperate blond wife not being able to console or talk about justice? The lecherous jerked-off anesthesiologist? So, again: How painful can silence be?

Had Steven been drinking? Can it be considered his mistake?

You know an anesthesiologist is never to blame for the bad outcome of an operation. The surgeon is always responsible. He'd had two drinks this morning, before we went in to prepare. Luckily, no one else realized, I was the only one that knew. But, back then, that wasn't exactly unusual. You know that.

...

A surgeon never kills a patient. An anesthesiologist can kill a patient, but a surgeon never can. For example, Matthew has made mistakes that have led to the death of a patient, but I never have.

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Ending the so often indescribable in science by J.S. Bach's St. John Passion is pushing the door wide open to further questions of justice, atonement, guilt, giving birth, taking life and what could/should in the broader sense even be fair in it. How often one was not willing to listen to the grumbling and bearing of the others' pain?