HOLD ON TO YER BUTTS, THIS IS TILDA SWINTON UNLEASHED!!!!!!!!!
Tilda Swinton produced this vanity project in which she plays a tedious twit, and the movie is also a tedious twit. If I had been involved in making this movie, I would have deleted most of its scenes. For the scenes I left in, I would have made the opposite choices.
If you've seen Get Out, you'll understand what I mean when I say that this movie is the Sunken Place, and that to watch it is to find yourself inexplicably stuck in a chair, in the darkness, as coherence and meaning fall away and you sink into an actual void.
The people who made this movie are my enemies, just as they are the enemies of story. They shrug at the notion of showing scenes or people that an audience could be interested in seeing. They are determined to waste the audience's time with still shots of rooms and of people sitting still. Hell-bent on it.
This is a waiting room of a movie, an interminably long red traffic light. This is standing in line behind a few people at the store and the cashier has left to do something, and minutes go by and just as she may never come back, this movie may never get to a point.
Tilda's Jessica's Tilda isn't the only tedious twit in the movie. Everyone she meets are also tedious twits. You would never want to meet these people and you would definitely never want to try to have a conversation with these people. They might want to make you listen to their boring band or tell you some boring poem. You would DEFINITELY never want to meet Jessica Tilda, because she is just going to interrupt what you are doing, stammer after a bit, and draw a line on the ground with her toe as she stares at you and slowly asks you a meaningless question that can not be answered.
Tilda Jessica wastes the time of everyone she meets in this movie, which is ok because none of them are doing anything interesting or useful. They are all dullards covered in lint or dirt. The irony is that by watching her waste everyone's time, she's actually wasting OUR time. There is a scene where she is stuck in a long line of traffic (as I mentioned above, I would have thrown out most of the scenes in this movie). She conveys boredom and frustration. But imagine how the audience feels by this point? This scene is an hour in, and the hour preceding it had even less momentum than this traffic jam.
It seems cruel to be tricked into watching someone sit in traffic. That's the least of the movie's crimes, though. I maintain that there is not a person that exists that wants to stare at a cramped parking lot of cars with their alarms going off for 45 seconds. But that is a scene in this movie, almost right at the beginning. I'm not speaking figuratively. That is an actual scene. It's not even the movie's only scene that is about a car alarm going off.
In fact, this movie starts with a ten minute segment of still images with doodles superimposed over them. Actual doodles. Actually ten minutes.
About an hour and a half in, Jesswinton goes to see a doctor with her mystery malady. Nothing about this doctor or her office would make you think she could help with an unusual problem. But what did surprise me was that when the Doctor made an offhand remark about religion, about a fourth of the audience laughed. Genuine laughter, not forced, as if they were watching Happy Gilmore. And when the conversation just naturally revolved around to Salvador Dali, as conversations with doctors always do, and Twilda suggested that Dali might have taken drugs, the audience erupted in a full-on belly laugh. I looked around in confusion before realizing that I was among freaks.
The plan for this movie is that it would only be shown in theaters, and that is wise, because no one could ever watch this via streaming. One could not possibly stick to watching this movie if they had any other activities within reach. It defies our interest. It defeats our good will.
