The silence throughout is so powerful. Hardly a moment of swelling score or pestering underscore to get in the way of just how immediate James's mortality is. ...Then an epic rock anthem undermines everything. Credits roll.
I hate when a great film is accused of being awful solely because someone dislikes the conclusion, but it does feel like this was ripped from a completely different film.
With the exception of that final scene I loved it all more the second time around.
A powerful portrait of sexual addiction. Michael Fassbender gives his most captivating performance (of so many) of the year as Brandon, a man drowning in emotionless rage. McQueen's use of camera placement puts the audience intimately close to Brandon, creating a simultaneously repulsive yet engrossing experience.
The gorgeously gritty images of New York City and Brandon's inability to connect with anyone, not even himself, create a film that feels like an update to the world of Travis Bickle. The streets…
Well... That whomped. Truffaut + (Future-dystopia + the 60s) = a pretty awful idea. Honestly that equation probably works just the same without throwing Truffaut into it, but as the director and a screenwriters he must be held responsible. Why are there soooo many shots of the fire truck speeding to its location? Why did it all look like a sitcom set? Why does the future look so much like the 60s? Why did no one even try to get…