I've seen some real dogs in my life, and I'm not easily bored. Christ. I would rather watch Empire than this self important art school version of the Bratz movie.
We're meant to be bowled over by the banality leading up to the ultimate devotional act of mass homicide (not)committed by this cardboard, racially/nationally/faithfully indeterminate ideological stand-in. Unfortunately, we're treated to what could be generously described as a middle class fantasy of martyrdom. The filmmaker intentionally removes racial, locational and religious motivation from every.. Well, I'm loathe to even describe them as characters.. but every human being shoved artlessly into what would barely qualify as a visual graduate thesis paper.
So, yes. Our heroine is dedicated to cleanliness in the lead up to her promised terminal act. This is explored in the sort of plodding detail so common in independent, lousy film recently. Again, my complaint isn't that $#%$ wasn't exploding in every other frame, but that the creator's reaction to that sort of crudeness was not only as gauche, but also not stimulating mentally or visually.
Additionally, the terrorists she meets with are so unconvincing and self conscious - constantly readjusting the knit brims of their St. Marks Street wanna be Jihadi masks - That by the middle of the movie (which feels like the 5th hour) when she asks them to share her pizza with her, any mentally stable viewer is wishing for an orgy of art student actors in pretend terrorist masks to choke to death en masse on pizza crust.
I'm not sure if i should blame Wes Andersen or Sofia Coppola for this sort of twee garbage. To their credit, at least those hacks avoid tackling something as heavy as the motivations for suicide bombing. I name them because Andersen elevated a phony emphasis on cutesy detail and sentimentality, and Coppola feminized and trivialized the trivial even further. Either way, the stage was set by them for any halfwit with a camera to drain dry any thinking viewer with extended shots of day to day activities leading up to seemingly profound acts.
This movie is a meaningless waste of time, a retread of inferior student films exploring important themes with the clumsiness of a tip-toeing giant. The viewer doesn't anticipate the death of the main character with the sadistic glee of an adolescent. It's with the sense of justice that is never explained in even the most cursory sense for the supposedly righteous heroine of this mastubatory ferris wheels of a movie. And we don't even get the satisfaction of her elimination. This is a repetitive and mundane movie that trivializes something that, as a New Yorker, I should feel a little justified being frightened of. Self important and ultimately boring? Yes. Hypnotic? My ass.
We're meant to be bowled over by the banality leading up to the ultimate devotional act of mass homicide (not)committed by this cardboard, racially/nationally/faithfully indeterminate ideological stand-in. Unfortunately, we're treated to what could be generously described as a middle class fantasy of martyrdom. The filmmaker intentionally removes racial, locational and religious motivation from every.. Well, I'm loathe to even describe them as characters.. but every human being shoved artlessly into what would barely qualify as a visual graduate thesis paper.
So, yes. Our heroine is dedicated to cleanliness in the lead up to her promised terminal act. This is explored in the sort of plodding detail so common in independent, lousy film recently. Again, my complaint isn't that $#%$ wasn't exploding in every other frame, but that the creator's reaction to that sort of crudeness was not only as gauche, but also not stimulating mentally or visually.
Additionally, the terrorists she meets with are so unconvincing and self conscious - constantly readjusting the knit brims of their St. Marks Street wanna be Jihadi masks - That by the middle of the movie (which feels like the 5th hour) when she asks them to share her pizza with her, any mentally stable viewer is wishing for an orgy of art student actors in pretend terrorist masks to choke to death en masse on pizza crust.
I'm not sure if i should blame Wes Andersen or Sofia Coppola for this sort of twee garbage. To their credit, at least those hacks avoid tackling something as heavy as the motivations for suicide bombing. I name them because Andersen elevated a phony emphasis on cutesy detail and sentimentality, and Coppola feminized and trivialized the trivial even further. Either way, the stage was set by them for any halfwit with a camera to drain dry any thinking viewer with extended shots of day to day activities leading up to seemingly profound acts.
This movie is a meaningless waste of time, a retread of inferior student films exploring important themes with the clumsiness of a tip-toeing giant. The viewer doesn't anticipate the death of the main character with the sadistic glee of an adolescent. It's with the sense of justice that is never explained in even the most cursory sense for the supposedly righteous heroine of this mastubatory ferris wheels of a movie. And we don't even get the satisfaction of her elimination. This is a repetitive and mundane movie that trivializes something that, as a New Yorker, I should feel a little justified being frightened of. Self important and ultimately boring? Yes. Hypnotic? My ass.
