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% (2016-11-23)

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. (2016-11-21)

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. (2017-03-26)

There’s power in simplicity. I guess that’s how I would evaluate this film after watching it. At the beginning, it offers fairly strange opening credits, through which it tries to create an atmosphere of mysticism and I was a bit worried that what I might be getting was another successor to David Lynch. However, I was quite lucky that this didn’t happen and the slow-paced life of the protagonist, who is portrayed by Amy Adams, began to unravel. But then the story jumps forward and I was watching a whole different story penned by Jake Gyllenhaal. And even though the two stories didn’t actually intertwine, there was such an interesting ending that I actually had to admit that the point couldn’t have been any better. The film looks mysterious but in the end it is a very solid drama. And by the way, Michael Shannon is really good in this one! (2017-02-07)

Tom Ford is once again dealing with loss. Visually and narratively, he goes one step further than when he introduced us to A Single Man, but this time it is much more unpleasant, although certainly not unfriendly to the viewer. It's just that the Texan noir that the main character reads is so dark, depressing, and hopeless that at times I didn't even want to look at the screen. But that would be a shame because the flood of metaphors, which can drill a decent hole in the viewer's head, is enormous, and the resulting impact is tremendous. The parallels between the book and Susan are incredibly clever, and although the ending itself ruins the enjoyment for some with its antikathartic boldness, it burrowed into me almost painfully. (2018-10-29)