Part-time artist, part-time cinephile, some-time podcaster, full-time servant of God.
"Let's talk about sex, baby! Let's talk about you and me! Let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be!"
That's the first casualty of growing up and awakening to the wide world as well as the wide world of sex.
And that's what catches out the lead character in her default to Britishness that she had no idea was so latent within her and that keeps her in a perpetual state of inability…
I virtually guarantee that there are atheists who still believe that it’s impossible to sentimentalise atheism, and that atheism as an instinct is and always will be profound no matter how it’s expressed. This movie has so much anti-religion symbolism and a general anti-wartime-nobility streak running through the entirety of its frame, and is a deliberate affront to belief in anything beyond greed, murder, non-emotive male identity and western cliches in and of themselves, and before Tarantino and his ilk…
There's nothing redeeming about this movie. Nothing. Characters stare into the abyss of their own lives and can do nothing but blame each other, never coming to terms with themselves. That would be tragic and interesting, but the acting can't even convince me that that's what their doing. The acting is so unengaged with the material so the ideas never come off, but the material itself is agony, full of shriekingly obvious moralising points. Self important, pain-inducing, nauseating. Like a speech by a rich father at a wedding that goes on forever.
I wasn't going to review this, but I thought I'd repost an off-the-cuff Facebook response I made which I'm pretty happy with. Frankly, though, the things mentioned here are all general, not specific, and pretty much apply to all movies I find bad these days (especially modern ones). Oh, and as for thinking "duh, it's a satire!" Guess what? I know it's a satire. And I'm saying it's a BAD satire. There is such thing. Satires have to acknowledge one's…