You have to go there to know that it's empty, or else you never know. You can make a film by never making it, make another at the same time. It is the wind of the truck passing, the invisible, grey woman, nobility of the banal. Duras holds contradiction, nurtures doubt. Depardieu listens, smiles at the corners of his mouth.
Does that 2000s horror aesthetic very well: desaturated except for the colour red, an abandoned theatre on an island, a nowhere space small town, only eerie characters, so on. For whatever reason, that aesthetic wasn't enough for me last night; there's a sense that none of it matters to its characters, most of all, or to itself, in a way. I wish it had been, because it's such a cohesive aesthetic, but maybe that's the issue. Like the new Candyman, this is an isolated world. Kwanten's Jamie is never really afraid or in danger. There's no outside and so all the shadows have the same source.
Still don't feel like I have a grasp on Hammer. There's a subtlety in character and patient pace and at the same time a campy excess, muted blood and sex, a few indelible images. Cushing's Frankenstein introduced as only a shadow in the cell and finished, in his story, pushing himself back against the ivy and the stone, repeating No, no, no. It privileges duration in those early laboratory scenes, where everything begins to spin, and the life giving liquid…
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
The only interesting idea that can be pulled from this movie is if someone told you as a child that they were from the future and that you would end up married, and constantly hammered that into your head while you grew up; would you marry them because that's how the future works or because they kinda forced themselves upon you emotionally when you were only five or six years old?
A reactionary fantasy of American iconography: fast cars, advertisements, cheap food, violent men and skinny dancing women, even before it gets to its revisionist climax. A star-vehicle for Pitt and DiCaprio (Robbie's hardly in this) to play characters experiencing a loss in popularity, and thus reason for being, they have never gone through; a false mourning if there ever was one. Formless enough, in its editing and jukebox style, to mitigate any introspection in terms of this loss and not be particularly interesting in its conservatism. Let's not settle for this only because it's the first big non-Disney film in a while.