We saw this yesterday as part of the annual French Film Festival at Boston's Museum of Fine Arts.At the film's end, My Love and I felt nothing but disgust. Not just at the film's protagonist, but at the whole experience of the film. We felt in dire need of a cleansing shower and ANYTHING, to change the mood and feeling. So, you could easily say, "Well, that's a real accomplishment, if the director made you feel that much." And I would easily respond to you that this 'accomplishment' is not one that I would ever choose to repeat or to have others experience. YECH. The details of the plot are perfectly and articulately found in the Cliffords' review(Reel Reviews) under External Reviews in the left side bar on this page.I could have written her description of the plot word for word, except that she really liked the film and I did not. I hated it.More accurately (ah ha! you will say)I hated HIM, the despicable protagonist. In so proclaiming, I fully realize that my 'objective film review credibility' is shot. But I don't care! It is not my wont to spend two hours squirming in my seat.
It's ironic; I attended this film solely because of the positive rec. of Reel Reviews. But if I can save just one of you(or two, to be exact)from seeing this nasty piece of work, I might begin to believe there is justice in some of the world.
It's ironic; I attended this film solely because of the positive rec. of Reel Reviews. But if I can save just one of you(or two, to be exact)from seeing this nasty piece of work, I might begin to believe there is justice in some of the world.