This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
A brilliant, near flawless argument for not allowing directors to make versions of their most beloved movies. This is awful in an unrelenting, oblivious, deeply stupid way, and it infiltrates every layer of the form. (The editing, in particular, is ghastly.) Only two of the many nonsensical stretches do anything worth noting, both dance sequences, in one way or another. I've read that the choreography is horseshit, but in my ignorance about modern dance I couldn't tell; so the Volk…