Atmosphere > plot.
it was interesting for the sheer novelty of an early 80's american indie. it seems like the same dynamic was going on then as it does now where the mustache twirling cigar smoking suits are like 'this is a hell of an indie film but we should have them direct a REAL movie' and next thing you know they're behind the camera making YOUNGBLOOD with rob lowe.
leave it to sidney poitier to make the whitest dance movie of the 80's next to xanadu.
the worst part is about 45 minutes in, when there's an attempt to crib from beat street with fast forward's own iconic dance off. the floor clears and the DJ drops the lamest fucking cosby show jazz while they start flexing their broadway moves. totally embarrassing for black culture in a way that probably wouldn't be topped until hamilton got popular.
If Tetsuya Nakashima and Hideaki Anno ate shoujo mangas and Jane Austen novels for breakfast then vomited the pages out you'd maybe have something like Hot Gimmick.
It's a disjointed fever dream of strange and rapid dialogue, hyper-edits and visual style that confused the fuck out of me but I loved every second of it.
She must be trying to relay the nightmare of being a teenage girl. Sadly I think people will just write it off as a romance movie or comic adaptation that 'isn't doing it right' when it's obviously something more.
Bold for a Netflix original.
lo-fi lesbian musical roadtrip. the characters dynamic is built on attraction and unfulfilled desire creating this solemn friend-zoned atmosphere that should be annoying but isn't because shiota focuses on the minutia of their daily routine rather than bringing the drama to the forefront.
you learn through narrative and flashbacks how they came to be and what brought them to the end of the road cut with song performances and the creative process of writing lyrics. these things come together forming…