GOT ANY FUCKING LAMPS?
GOT ANY LAMPS I CAN FUCK???
It falls apart in the third act and I don't care.
The manager character doesn't land and I don't care.
They should have set it in the 90s and I don't care.
I saw this in Chicago the day after the Kavanagh hearing in a cinema next to an airport. All 15 of us in the screening just needed a movie that took us by the hand and said "Let's. Fucking. Go."
When the credits rolled everyone was crying and…
A tightrope act with the tone and it's pulled off beautifully, balancing comedy and horror. Reminders of poverty are everywhere.
I was deeply moved by near-final scene with the Elastoplast. It drives home everything the detective is feeling at that moment: his connection to the victim and the horror of what happened to her and why it was so violating. It does all that with a plaster instead of showing gratuitous shots of violence against women. The respect for a victim's dignity and suffering made me weep with gratitude because it's such a rare thing to see in cinema.