Occasional film/music critic and culture writer for various places on the internet // just vibing.
The Red Shoes' sunny cousin: why do you want to dance/why do you want to live? Art is life; everyone's an artist; if they're not an artist they're an axe murderer. Everything is funny, even the axe murder, when it's delivered in song and shoved up right next to a dick joke. It's life at its most potent, wheeling and dealing with abandon, flying around the fairground, colors exploding and melding with your mind, imprinting. Like discovering a whole slate…
not an invigorating script and the air is smog, but cronenberg basically directs this back to life, holding firm on the near-silence and going hog-wild on a near-comical degree of camera subjectivity and claustrophobia. he sticks the camera where he wants it and it looks pretty cool, even if it’s all fake and wants us desperately to know it.
Let’s set aside for a second the fact that Margaret Thatcher was the absolute scum of the earth. On a purely cinematic level, this movie is directed, edited, scored, and written in a manner bordering on incompetent; Meryl is (somehow) atrocious; and none of it makes half a lick of sense. Then remember that it’s slapping a feminist veneer on an evil person who did far more harm to women than good by any objective metric. What a piece of shit.
ps: seriously, space the editor