Nocturnal Animals

If the opening assault on the eyes (especially male eyes) was supposed to capture the female protagonist’s lack of taste and judgment (because we find ourselves in her gallery), it would be possible to understand her subsequent enthusiasm for Edward’s trashy novel built on the most moronic plot twists and populated with caricatures of Southern rednecks, hysterical husbands and indomitable sheriffs. If, however, the film really required us to keep a critical (and cynical) distance from a protagonist who is so unprepared for the real world that she can’t even unwrap a package that she receives (after cutting herself, she leaves the job to an assistant), the melodramatic conclusion, which instead relies on our identification with Susan, would not make any sense. I’m not sure how seriously Ford wants us to take Nocturnal Animals. In any case, it can’t be taken too seriously. The characters are one-dimensional. Instead of impactful statements, we have trite phrases, which the characters use to reveal their emotional state to us (instead of acting it out). In Susan’s world, everyone and everything primarily has to look good, which sometimes applies and sometimes doesn’t in the world of the book Susan is reading. It is thus probably not true (or at least not all the time) that she projects into the novel what she wants to have in it as its plot materialises before our eyes. Or perhaps the fetishes of women from better society include Aaron Taylor-Johnson ostentatiously wiping his ass? I suspect the director himself did not have a clear idea of how (self-)ironic and deliberately campy he wanted the film to be, nor how much he wanted the romantic and spiritual to take precedence over material values. The result is a trio of films – a Southern thriller, a melodrama about class differences and a satire of the world of snobs who judge others based on whether they own the latest iPhone – that are all quite entertaining in places, but most of the time come across as much more serious and self-important than would be fitting, considering their hollowness. 65% (11/23/2016)

A breathtakingly deceiving film, seemingly over-stylised and focused on form and material things, coldly pragmatic and ruthlessly violent. At the same time, it is a subliminally disarming probe into the reality of today's world with a bunch of fundamental life questions in the sense of rightness/wrongness of living contemporary life, dealing with important goals, directions and opinions that influence the future and define the present of man. A film as sophisticated, wise and extremely inaccessible to the audience as Ridley Scott's The Counselor. Script-wise, however, it is even more sophisticated, which is why it has that extra bit in the rating. Again, some users' allusions to snobbery, etc., stem from a misunderstanding of the film and thus a misunderstanding of the ideas and message it conveys. (12/10/2016)

A lavishly filmed romp that justifies its own existence in one of its opening scenes, when a character (who otherwise has no role in the story and never appears again) explains to Susan that in absurd times there is nothing to do but enjoy the absurdity, because that's all life has to offer. And by that time, Ford had explained himself to me and could do whatever he wanted. And he did. The dark intrusion of lost, sincere love into the nihilistic burnt-out decadence of the upper class (however it may be parodied here) is a tricky subject that reeks of moralizing didacticism. And yet Ford manages to avoid it brilliantly and instead handles the whole subject intimately and personally, without compromising his visual magnificence. The whole composition then skillfully coalesces in a devastating finale. In short, a beautiful example of how the magic of the film medium can dust off even a somewhat threadbare script, relying on coincidences and trusting that someone would be willing to publish such an unremarkable book. Oh, and I was also moved by the opening credits, and that counts for something. (03/26/2017)

Beautifully shot and stylized, outstanding music and magnificently performed, bombastic and snobbish nothing. The worst thing is that the final unraveling scene (and it doesn't matter which of the two or three possible interpretations you chose) does not justify the would-be ingenious formal construction as a mindfuck. It rather fully shows that instead of three different story line layers, one main story line would be more than enough to achieve the same effect and convey the same message (for all three possible messages). However, introductory hardcore subtitles should be kept as they are the best and most subversive part of it. (11/21/2016)

Ford had me spellbound in a way, no doubt about it. In terms of direction, this is truly first-rate stuff with the highly addictive and suffocating atmosphere of the Texas backwoods, for which I have an indescribable fondness on the movie screen. The story has laudable intentions and really does a brilliant job of illustrating the contrast between the opulence and absurdity of the L.A. lifestyle with the uncompromising arid wasteland, but it still comes across as somewhat disjointed, failing to deliver anything very new in the individual details, some of the dialogues could have been better written by Dežo from Most, and the twist is weak, not so much in meaning as in the way it’s delivered, including the final passage that basically says nothing (the only direct criticism of Ford). But what elevates the whole spectacle is the delicious atmospheric soundtrack, and above all the actors; but while Adams and Gyllenhaal are good by default, Johnson surprises madly and gives his characterless boor a lot verve, as well as the amazing Michael Shannon as a detective, who once again shows that he is one of the most interesting dramatic actors of today... In their company, and under Ford's firm guidance, I'm looking forward to the next screening quite a bit. This film will mature a lot. (12/11/2016)