Sex as art, industry and pain. Acting as art, industry and pain. Sono delivers an incredibly expressive, multi layered onion of a film within a nightmarish reality. A beginning as sadistic as possible, an ending as climatic as an orgasm. Or as a death. Clever and rich in ways that'll make you blush with jealousy and smile with heart. Not to take anything away from Von Trier, but this is the NYMPHOMANIAC type tale for me. Bizarre, tragic, emotionally heightened…
Not about redemption, but trying. The two main characters, played with ferocity by both McDormand and Rockwell, are unlikable and empathetic at the same time. Occasionally, it's pity we feel for them, in their inability to move forward and in the ugliness they seek to live in. This changes as the arcs progress and converge, granting us a story about crude individuals learning about themselves a little and attempting, in their own ways, to be better. A dysfunctional sense of…
Utterly deplorable. Horrid melodrama with a time and setting used only for dramatic exploitation. Nothing new is revealed or anything found within us, just people weeping, bickering, coughing and yelling like Nolan's Batman. When you use green screen, cgi smoke and desaturated lighting to indicate fiery conditions, you're telling me how cheap and uncreative you are. Rushed through to ... make a buck? To capitalize on ... that sweet 9/11 nostalgia we all share? Why was this movie made? It…
A devastating production that's less scary but more tragic than you'd think. It holds back on exposition and meaning, leaving the images and action to speak for themselves. At twenty-four paintings a second, never wasting a sequence, the film is like a Cormac McCarthy cover song if performed by David Lynch. That's a dangerous pairing.
Go in knowing nothing, come out feeling everything.