Sorry About That

Something must be wrong with me, The Artist didn’t make me cry and Shame didn’t upset me as they were supposed to do according to my sources. Now that a few months have passed I can finally confess.

I did enjoy The Artist. There’s some metanarrative, and I love some metanarrative in my movies. There’s a little Citizen Kane, a little Sunset Boulevard. What’s not to like? The scene with the sleeve is poetic and the dog is cute. But I patiently waited for the moment where I was supposed to cry and I was still waiting when the end credits started to roll.

As regards Shame, it’s a remarkable, aesthetically impressive, perfectly constructed, amazingly acted piece of work I completely failed to connect with emotionally. To be honest, I just wanted Brandon to be punched in the face. It took more than one hour for someone to actually punch him in the face, and he didn’t even punch hard. That was very frustrating. Don’t get me wrong, I understand Brandon is troubled enough already, with all his loneliness and obsession, but I sincerely think that a violent fight would have done him good.

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