Wednesday, November 12, 2003

Went to see In The Cut yesterday. Have to say it was a very mixed/shit bag. Was alarmed about existential crapness levels right at the beginning by this exchange:


There was a petal storm this morning.


I saw it – I was dreaming. I thought it was a snowstorm.


Are you happy when you wake up?



It got better towards the end but most things simply appeared ridiculous. I practically lived in New York for a year, and tough in parts it may be, but nobody has the amount of bristling street-cred sexual game playing aggression which is apparently the mode du jour for any 30 something urban dweller in this universe. Murder detective Ruffalo asks English teacher Ryan some questions about a murder. Then asks her to go to a bar with him. Despite having shown no sympathy for him, or indeed interest in him at all she agrees, and even changes into a slinky little strappy number. The conversation goes something like this:


I’ll be your boyfriend, I’ll do whatever you want, lick your pussy. Only thing I won’t do is beat you up.


Why does your partner carry a water pistol?

I can only assume that the audience weren’t laughing because they were asleep. In all fairness it did get better once the film began to show signs of growing a plot, albeit a sub sub (yawn) serial killer one, but really – don’t bother. Plus of course, even in a film like this which has pretences of social realism we are still inhabiting that bizarrest of Hollywood worlds; the one where neither Jennifer Jason Leigh nor Kevin Bacon can get a date because they’re so gosh darned unattractive.

As for all that crap about poems on the subway – wtf was that all about. And let’s not even get started on the ‘To The Lighthouse’ references.

In summary : It Stinketh.

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