Really easy to equate this to Emerald Fennell’s attempt at recreating Skins or Euphoria. Hell, for a while that’s exactly what I was thinking, pretty much up until they reached Saltburn this is just a good episode of Skins. However; there’s a moment in which the film changes, completely morphs away from its influences and into its own beast. Unravelling itself to show its disgusting underbelly, a tale of obsession, lust and desire that pushes the boundaries of what is…
Like the dark, disgusting, sleezy older cousin of Aftersun. Which, absolutely is a lazy comparison but one that will inevitably be made. Hyper specific British experiences that masquerade as core happy memories, disguising the horrible hidden truth. Difficult conversations with no eye contact, a deep inhale and an off hand comment revealing what you want to say. If Aftersun felt like a home movie then How to Have Sex feels like a teenage girls holiday Snapchat story.
Mia McKenna-Bruce seems…
Every bit as powerful and relevant today as it’s ever been. Today, with a heavy heart I must come to terms with the fact that the world has lost not just one of the greatest artists of all time, but one of the greatest, most kind, generous, caring and hilarious human beings to ever walk it. Eli was so passionate about his craft, about helping others discover films new and old. I can’t believe that he’s gone.
I have so…