Former editor: Paste Magazine, Cokemachineglow
Pleasant and charming but only that, never quite rising to any emotional truth that didn’t feel forecasted from a lifetime ago. I’m not even sure if I thought the acting was very good? John Magaro pauses forever before responding to any line and I think maybe Song wants you to read that pause as a man patiently reviewing his emotional options and not… how people don’t talk? Then again, I relate to that anxiety, knowing the person you love is…
I have been asked by the PR company to take down the review due to an embargo they only just now informed me is in effect.
EDIT -- Embargo up, here was my original review:
As redolent of pee and poop as Hard to Be a God; as miserable and creeping as The Death of Louis XIV; very grotesque and dumb. Somehow there is no joy to be had in watching Al Capone in a diaper, smoking a carrot, mowing…
“LA drivers! They’re all mamalukes.” - Randazzo, disposable pig-nosed Italian
I thought of Seijun Suzuki during this, how the audience’s perspective is all that matters, the camera the only source of spatial truth, especially when working in the impossibly small ambulance set against the impossibly sprawling (and geographically absurd) City of LA. This is how Jake Gyllenhaal can hide behind a neon vest with a huge gun, how a man can survive a ruptured spleen and four hands inside of…