Too on the nose was an expression created to describe this screenplay. While everyone seems to be very game (even if kinda lost) and the story brings up the brexit's messiness with furious energy, I can't for the life of me understand how can one listen to the dialogue and not scream in pain. Maybe...maybe it'd work better on a stage? People who loved this should check out brazillian playwriter Nelson Rodrigues, tho.
Reports of this being raucous seem drastically overstated. It's sad and sour, short of jokes besides Clarksons delivery. The script is tidy , perhaps too much so, more like something aiming to ape clever writing than clever in of itself. Spall's eyes looks amazing but the digital B+W is a little strange elsewhere.
Digital. More than twenty years after "Orlando"'s artistique crap and meanwhile not having seen any film of this director, here i am going to the cinema, trying to escape boredom, and come across this joke superiorly poorly filmed, in black-and-white just because, with actors corroborating the waste, in favor of another artistic object, this time striving to be witty. Another crap.
Genius beyond words. The story, the script, the actors, the cinematography, the rhythm, the editing, the soundtrack... Watching this once is far from enough to grasp all the little hints of brilliance. One of the best of the year, no doubt about it. April and Gottfried are one of the most hilarious couples I've seen. And from now on I officially declare Patricia Clarkson as my queen.
[Tears+Laughter] First film I've seen by you was 2000's "The Man Who Cried" (which was always what I thought my grave would read on its tombstone - 'the man who cried') I was 15/16 yo and did not get the chance to see a film of yours up on the big screen (or anywhere else neither) ever since. 17 Y E A R S passed and it's like being reacquainted with a former lover/friendo. Your art has not aged a day dear Sally... ♡
Such a tiresome and trite screenplay from Potter that little stabs at deployment of sophisticated visual language (never when two people are talking to one another, which she generally covers in a manner most bland) and a whole spate of for-the-most-part-more-than-fine performances (emaciated Timothy Spall knocks this one out of the park) are unable to produce anything other than what in the end is just an irritant.
A punch in the face! And a good punch, something you’d wish to experience more often to really wake you up. Smashing 70 minutes of dialogue with hostility, jealousy, life coaching shit and feminist politics mixed with a bit of violence, puking and snorting coke – with an unbelievably capable cast that exceeds itself.