v reminiscent of american gigolo- beyond the obvious comparisons, this feels v much like a social portrait of 2008-crisis-era precarity in the way the former is a v particularised documentation of 80s excess, navigated in both cases via the lens of someone trying so hard to remain unmoored from the very uncertainty that finally extricates them from their livelihood. shades of blue collar too, to the point where it resembles a schrader if he wasn’t so terrified of sexuality.
he did it again. easily one of the most distressing things I’ve ever seen. shyamalan is one of my favourite working directors, and I would’ve expected nothing less than something impeccably taut that extracts as much agony from all the potential implications of the impossibilities he posits. but even as someone who was moved to tears by the utilization of the image as a liberatory instrument at the end of glass, I could not have anticipated…
assumed that its potency might be diminished somewhat this time around, owing to the fact that I saw this towards the end of a 12-hour mann retrospective. once again, of course, my fears that my love for this would lessen were dispelled promptly by the trancelike state the numb/encore needledrop placed me in pretty much immediately. not sure what else I can say about this that I haven’t said already- the most achingly romantic film, the fulfilment of the digital…