Neon Dreamer. Nighttime Streamer.
Firmly established its tone from the very first shot and proceeded to drag me against my will through the depraved exploits of David Thewlis, some kind of charismatic dirtbag vampire with a gift for spotting and manipulating vulnerable people. I can't say it enough; I love any film that gives me zero indication where it's going one minute to the next. And it turns out this is true even if the places it goes are ones I despise and want…
Being a single mom is hard.
Possibly one of only like... 20 truly perfect films. The first 15 minutes alone contain some of the best cinema ever created by humans. Very happy to be utterly broken by this goddamn movie after randomly noticing it was playing in IMAX while killing a couple hours downtown.
"You must be dead, because I don't know how to feel. I can't feel anything anymore."
In closing: 😭
You know those movies where you sit there hanging on to every line of dialogue—every single syllable—and if you miss just one fraction of a sentence you just have to pause and rewind because you're sure it must have been something revealing and completely integral to the dynamics of the characters you're watching? Well that was this for me.
Kind of shocking that Tom Noonan didn't direct more stuff because, despite this obviously being written as a one set play,…
At its best, scrappy as hell. At its worst, downright silly. It also knows exactly how to convey PTSD-induced sadness and is really just the first film I've seen in a long time that feels like it smells like cheap liquor. I loved it.
Paul Schrader's Kingpin?
P.S. Is nobody going to talk about how long he held that final shot??