Ben Sanderson, an alcoholic Hollywood screenwriter who lost everything because of his drinking, arrives in Las Vegas to drink himself to death. There, he meets and forms an uneasy friendship and non-interference pact with prostitute Sera.
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D'habitude, l'amour vient avec son lot de joie et de bonheur. Surtout au cinéma, où on en abuse allègrement. Ici, toute autre histoire. Plutôt spécial de sentir un amour aussi fort dans cet univers où les personnages se détruisent et s'acceptent dans leur destruction.
Like a an alcohol addled fever dream of neon coloured Las Vegas. Cage is mostly convincing as a doomed drunk (occasionally moved a bit into the comical territory). No time is spent moralizing, but instead the focus is on the soul-crushing loneliness when you have nothing substantial left but still need a human connection. The eyes and expressions speak for themselves, and some things are left refreshingly open.
i was impressed by the surreal atmosphere created by the neon lit backgrounds of Vegas and the melancholy music. what i loved most is that it's tragic yet there isn't an overwhelming sense of regret or repentance found in most other films that deal with similar themes. in the end the two protagonists find a semblance of fulfillment and love during the time spent with each other.
I rewatched it and I'm like "meh". It's a good story (for the depth and the complexity of the gesture of acceptance of Shue's character), and Cage and Shue are both terrific, but the film in itself is clumsy (narrating) and cliché (specially for the music). It's only worth it for Shue's and, particularly, for Cage's perfomance: those are the reasons why the film stays with you.