Wow. Seeing The Passion of Joan of Arc for the first time at the Detroit Film Theater with a live choral orchestra performing Richard Einhorn's Voices of Light--absolutely divine. The first masterpiece of "she did that!" cinema. If you want to call this the greatest film ever made, I certainly won't argue.
I'm from Detroit. I've lived in and around the city for the majority of my life. This movie has nothing to say about this city, the uprising of '67 or, most damningly, what it's like to be black in America. Detroit (the movie) is the cinematic equivalent of Ramsay Bolton from Game of Thrones; it luxuriates interminably in the depths of human depravity without ever arriving at a meaningful conclusion. Maybe the hopelessness I felt watching Detroit was intentional. It…
This is the last one of these fucking movies and you *still* don't see his penis. What the actual fuck? Dakota Johnson has been baring it all since the beginning, but all we get of Jamie Dornan is a hint of pubes. There's only one explanation for this not-so-kinky fuckery: Jamie Dornan has a bad dick.