The Uncut Gems comparisons are unfair; that one hits such heights of high-stakes anxiety that Shiva Baby's labyrinth of awkward histories feels like a feather-light blintz in comparison. What this does quite well is skewer the horrendous list of expectations of the 'nice Jewish girl'; it's blunt and every single line feels written in service of its thesis (which can be a tad suffocating, and doesn't really add to the chaos you should be feeling), but what's here is otherwise really well performed, especially by Sennott. What a fantastic, endlessly watchable face she has.
Arguably a perfect art movie. It's stasis as a form of peace radiating from the slightest of movements, both in the space of Marseilles and the frame of Ming Liang's film. Simple as that. It gets a bit Where's Wally? at times (Where's Dalai?), but if you can't find any enjoyment in that, this is the opposite of your type of flick. An ideal sleepy morning viewing, and a real feat of physical acting; can't imagine the level of thigh strength these guys have.
Me: Do you like Mary Harron’s adaptation of Bret Easton Ellis’ American Psycho?
Snooty Film Analyst: It’s OK.
Me: The later scenes are a little too abstract for my tastes, but when Bateman’s monologuing carries on throughout all 102 minutes, I think it really comes into its own, commercially and artistically. The whole film has a clear, crisp look, and an old sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives Andrzej Sekula’s cinematography a big boost. Mary Harron's been compared to…