A brilliantly baffling film: one of the most striking and experimental uses of colour I have seen (as pregnant with meaning as Barry Lyndon, as passionately surreal as anything by Anger, as anti-sculptural (i.e. Baroque, according to Wölfflin’s terminology) as Moby-Dick by Huston was sculptural (i.e. Classic) thanks to the dye transfer technique used) in narrative (?) film (CONTD. BELOW IN COMMENTS)
It's fine. The usual '90s-cool noir wannabe nonsense (surf rock, gaudy suits, hairdye, guns, blah blah blah). As someone who came of age in that decade, I know it would've been really hip to see this in '97 but it seems dated and silly to me in '17. Chevrin's photography was nice though.