Two teenage girls in suburban Connecticut rekindle their unlikely friendship after years of growing apart. In the process, they learn that neither is what she seems to be, and that a murder might solve both of their problems.
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Isn't interesting that all psychopaths consider Steve Jobs their hero - see Cooke's frequent appreciative comments? BTW, the comparison to Heathers is completely wrong. There are traces of Dogtooth and a ton of Bret Easton Ellis: class+capitalism+emotional labor+psychopathy+apathy+luxury+interior design+ultraviolence. PS Cory Finley will go far. PPS No, this does NOT need to be turned into a TV series.
Not an unqualified success--overstuffed with homage, it's underfed with narrative ideas and energy, both of which, as others have noted, fall off precipitously about halfway through--but I loved how it inverted Heathers, with Anton Yelchin as a kind of anti-Christian Slater, uncool and unclued, and I was impressed by its complication of our usual association of psychopathy with evil, and empathy with ethics.
Cooke and Taylor-Joy are both great in this tale of disaffection that boasts a strong screenplay and a magnificent use of sound. Being hailed by some as this generation's 'Heathers' it trumps that film by leaving aside the black comedy and investing in the ennui of teenage restlessness and discontent.
This is one intense film that feels like John Waters meets Harmony Korrine by way of Todd Haynes. The darkness of this film is complemented by the vibrant set pieces and the unsettling music fits this film like a glove as these two girls try and find themselves in a society that doesn't care about them and doesn't even really know itself. Truly a film for our times and featuring two extraordinary young talents.
If you spent your teenage years feeling disaffected and alone (and maybe reading too much Bret Easton Ellis), but are able to look back at that time with a level of distance and irony as an adult, "Thoroughbreds" is a film that totally gets you. Olivia Cooke ("Bates Motel") and Anton Yelchin steal their every scene, and writer/director Cory Finley displays a strong filmic sensibility despite a background in theater.
The affectations and cynicism in this are almost fundamentally annoying to me, like a Rose McGowan movie from 1995. I outgrew Bret Idiot Ellis and Donna Tartt a long time ago, so no thank you. I like Anya Taylor-Joy though, despite myself; I just wish she had better taste in movies.