If Gregg Turkington's Neil Hamburger persona represents the nadir of millennial irony, Alverson has done us the service of exploring even deeper depths. If the self is a construct, it is not just for fun; the performed self fills in a void, just like entertainment does. Entertainment (the movie) is scuzzy and bleak (though it looks real good), because it looks past the constructions into the heart of a nullity.
The trailer actually quotes a review from Variety that describes it with the terms "soulless" and "nowhere", as though those are good things. The first half hour was good, then it really does go nowhere and offers a lot of nothingness which would be fine if it had been more balanced out with some somethingness. Why does John C. Reilly always take supporting roles? He was great as the lead in WRECK-IT-RALPH.
Transgressive cringe comedy for those who like that sort of thing. A talentless comedian goes from dive to dive in the Mojave desert area lost in a purgatory of his own making. First half holds interest but one quickly realizes this isn't going anywhere.
Capolavoro destabilizzante che disgrega la percezione dello spettatore catapuldandolo in un incubo cupo e deprimente nel quale Turkington è quint'essenza del male di vivere, genio incompreso, alieno in una società sempre più disumanizzata e isterica.
''Qual'è la differenza tra courtney love e la bandiera americana? Non si dovrebbe pisciare sulla bandiera americana.''
Whenever you have Alverson, Turkington and Heidecker together, I'll pay for the ticket. These guys are seriously skilled at dreading, confusing and depressing you while still living you in awe (well most of the time). The dead spaces are plenty and they might infuriate you after the umpteenth montage, but they are impressively efficient in putting you inside the mind of our boy Neil. And the cinematography is great.
A work of art. So many glimpses of beauty: the clown's dance, the jokes, Amy Seimetz throwing that glass, the woman in the bathroom giving birth to her child, the monochrome frames, the nervous breakdown at the party