When we watch movies, especially good ones, we're supposed to feel something, right? If the characters are desperate, we should feel that longing, that urgency. If they're in love, we should feel the connection and passion they have for one another. Whatever it is, whatever the emotion, it should resonate within the audience. It should mean something. But what if the characters are hopeless? What if everything they're doing is pointless? Should we feel that, too?
I don't know what to make of Only God Forgives. I basically hated it, but maybe only because I wanted to love it.
I had heard all the talk about how shitty it is, how impossibly pretentious it is, but (at the time) it didn't matter. The people saying that were assholes. Those people who booed it at Cannes? F--king morons. This was the follow up to Drive [review], a movie that blindsided me with how f--king cool it was. The fact that I thought that could happen again, only shows who the real asshole is, ya know, the real f--king moron.
According to IMDb, this flick runs exactly 90 minutes, but it felt much longer. Worse, if you were to take out the copious amount of staring (sometimes in slo-motion mind you, for f--k's sake), you could likely knock that runtime down to a solid 65 minutes. Again, if it meant something, fine, f--king stare away. But in the end, it doesn't. It's frustratingly hollow and borderline ridiculous.
The story, what we're given anyway, is pretty straightforward. After a drunken night that ends with the f--king and killing of an underage prostitute, an American scumbag is murdered by the father of the dead girl. Aww. Soon, Dead Guy's mom swoops into town on her broomstick, demanding vengeance for her deceased first born (who, according to mom has a big dick?). She expects her younger, possibly mute, possibly retarded son Julian (posterboy Gosling) to do the dirty work. About that...
According to IMDb, this flick runs exactly 90 minutes, but it felt much longer. Worse, if you were to take out the copious amount of staring (sometimes in slo-motion mind you, for f--k's sake), you could likely knock that runtime down to a solid 65 minutes. Again, if it meant something, fine, f--king stare away. But in the end, it doesn't. It's frustratingly hollow and borderline ridiculous.
The story, what we're given anyway, is pretty straightforward. After a drunken night that ends with the f--king and killing of an underage prostitute, an American scumbag is murdered by the father of the dead girl. Aww. Soon, Dead Guy's mom swoops into town on her broomstick, demanding vengeance for her deceased first born (who, according to mom has a big dick?). She expects her younger, possibly mute, possibly retarded son Julian (posterboy Gosling) to do the dirty work. About that...
