I mean I enjoyed it for what it was, but getting a cast like this and winding up a movie this fluffy is kind of a magic trick all its own...
Of course, the very conceit of anybody remaking a James Toback film is delightfully perverse. But if I hadn't already known that this was a remake of Fingers, I'm not sure I would have been able to tell.
Director Jacques Audiard replaces the specifically American (more specifically Manhattan based based and MOST specifically, Toback-ishly masturbatory) ponderings on masculinity, with a more Gallic version of same. Perhaps inevitably, this smooths out the quirks that made the original a film worth investigating.…
I shouldn't do it.
I absolutely should not be trying to analyze this movie, because it's basically semicore porn.
(For those who don't know this term I just made up, 'semicore' means all the onscreen sex is softcore, but there are a shitload of erect penises just hanging... well, not hanging, exactly... about. You're welcome, friends)
But seeing as how Tinto Brass (the director) is clearly using this movie as a polemic to espouse his unifying theory of mankind, I…