works better if you pretend zac efron's character is a butch
i had no idea how to rate this - it was either going to be a 4 or a 1.5/2. i've gone with the latter after reading interviews with the director. i know the author's dead, but it can't help but retroactively shift the prism of how i saw the movie.
my interpretation was a ""feminist"" reading, in which Aronofsky condemns the artist, and specifically, the male artist, as a parasite who sucks the life and joy out of his…