Sick of Myself

Sick of Myself ★★★★

Gaze at the prodigals of the attention epoch! See them rise! See them fall!

One of the stronger works of sardonicism I’ve seen in a while, precisely because it’s also mixed with an actual attempt at character study. It goes hard enough to be really funny, but keeps a measured sheen of realism to give it some heft. More than once it felt absolutely satirically ruthless.

I thoroughly enjoyed that, when it was all said and done, the film itself was revealed to be an unreliable narrator. Not all of protagonist Signe’s fantasies/fears, her sequences of unreality, were telegraphed to the viewer and some of the sequences that played as in-film reality, like the journalist pursuing the truth and tracking down Signe's drug dealer, might have been occurring in Signe's head all along.

If the ending feels less baked than the rest of the movie, it’s because the project wrote itself into a complicated spot. If Signe had been truly exposed to the world, it would’ve simply been a new kind of attention spotlighting her. And no matter how low that brought her, all attention is a victory. (Come to think of it, this might have been the most satirically uncompromising ending of them all.) But by letting everything just sort of blandly continue on, except with her health worsening, we miss out on a big bang climax, yes, but the idea of it seems more just, somehow.

I think I just talked myself out of liking the ending tho.

Anyway, great flick.

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