Misbegotten mess of a film. You wonder what drawer the script was languishing in as its fragmented yet stylishly hip narrative resembles Boyle weakly attempting to recycle his 1990s sensibility (even McAvoy, generally a good actor, is reduced to conjuring Ewan McGregor circa 1998).
No matter how many twists it throws your way, it always manages to be more predictable than surprising. Sure, it's got a great visual style, but without any semblance of a real narrative to guide it forward, it just gets messier and messier after a semi-promising first act. By the end, I didn't know what was real, but I didn't actually care. At least Dawson's got a soothing voice and McAvoy's ass was around to help.
A clever petty noir criminal story disguised as a psychological thriller! The entire movie fucks with you, if you can buy into is lurid ideas (and sit through the first act), then you will have a hell of a time watching it! Honestly, my favorite thing mr.boyle has done since 28 days later. Also, full frontal Rosario Dawson MADE my summer already!
Third-act blues stifles a potentially marvellous film. There is still much of merit on Boyle's 'Trance'. However, with the esteemed platform that he holds in British cinema (and rightfully so), one would expect more from the denouement of a fascinating premise.
It would be easier to say what was under-cooked (as a long-time skeptic of Boyle, it would be very easy). But I would rather focus on what I enjoyed. It was bubblegum, and that's what I wanted. It's stylish as all hell, with a colourful palette and lots of energy (at least the first half). MacAvoy tries his hardest with the thin script, Cassel is charismatic as usual, and Dawson is a sight for sore eyes.
Ok, so Trance is one of those mindfuck movies that I'll probably watch again someday in order to fully understand it. Overall it felt like there were too many twists, and in the end I couldn't say what was real and what was created by the hypnotherapist. The theory about Frank and Simon being the same person is killing me. Not a very consistent movie: some scenes were beautiful and sleek while others tacky and messy.
3 stars for Boyle's awesome direction, the fucking badass soundtrack, and James "scotsman" McAvoy. The first act is brilliant, after that it falls into unnecessary mindfuck patterns and twists. Really enjoyable though.
40s Preminger as though shot by Robby Müller or Chris Doyle (in full lysergic mode) evoking Bergson. The future is a memory. Dream is the crime scene. Arrange the parts for a story. There is no story. Also the best film about castration anxiety since maybe Jaws. But more subtle. Than Jaws.