"I didn't get Taco Bell tattooed on my knuckles for no reason."
I'd like to take this opportunity to begin the conspiracy theory that Sufjan Stevens was once a gutter punk named Why-Me.
A powerful portrait of sexual addiction. Michael Fassbender gives his most captivating performance (of so many) of the year as Brandon, a man drowning in emotionless rage. McQueen's use of camera placement puts the audience intimately close to Brandon, creating a simultaneously repulsive yet engrossing experience.
The gorgeously gritty images of New York City and Brandon's inability to connect with anyone, not even himself, create a film that feels like an update to the world of Travis Bickle. The streets…
Well... That whomped.
Truffaut + (Future-dystopia + the 60s) = a pretty awful idea. I mean, that equation’s almost certainly disastrous without throwing Truffaut into the mix, but dude’s gotta be held accountable as director/co-screenwriter.
Why are there SO. MANY. SHOTS. of that fire truck speeding away?
Why was this shot on an abandoned sitcom set?
Why does the future look so much like the 60s?
Why did no one even bother to get that Frenchman to speak English?