Though I have a sneaking sense that I won't necessarily always perceive this film as being utterly fucking brilliant as the years go by, at this moment it's an absolutely unexpected revelation. Thanks in part to a surprisingly relevant (read: not entirely cringe-worthy) realization of social media engagement, this film feels as though it belongs more to this decade than any other indie film I've seen in the last five years. The quirky, eccentric nature of just about every aspect…
You know, this actually made sense to me. I was bracing for a fevered surrealist nightmare, but this felt much more like a coherent narrative than anything else.
I found myself eerily reminded of Bergman's Persona more than once - was that just me? Not only a sense that the two lead women might just be the same person, but a similarly energetic claustrophobia that pulsates in the silences between them. There's sexual energy, but there's also sincere compassion and…
I get it. I finally know what the hell Lars is doing.
Okay. So firstly, this so-called conclusion to the "Golden Heart Trilogy" is basically the standard by which all polarizing films should be measured. It's just that divisive. I felt my star rating dropping from five to zero and back again, more times than I could count. Of course by this point the star rating is unnecessary and silly, and it's obvious that we have a winner. Lars von…