Tales of Manhattan had a tuxedo. The Dress has a dress. There the similarity ends. What follows if a very smart, often disturbing parade of lives of people who happen to come in contact with a particularly hideous dress. It arouses unexpected, overwhelming lust in some, nothing in others, but it's a sure bet that if you have the dress you're in for something strange and probably not very pleasant.
The intriguing threads that bind this tapestry of frustrated longing together are a failed textile manufacturer and an obssessed ticket taker, who voices the movies' sad and in his case, misapplied motto: "I'm normal!" Here everyone and no one is.
The wit is subtle and sharp as a scalpel. All actors are excellent--especially unnerving is van Warmerdam himself as the doomed ticket taker. Pay very close attention to the faces and names of characters. They are sign posts for things to come.
The intriguing threads that bind this tapestry of frustrated longing together are a failed textile manufacturer and an obssessed ticket taker, who voices the movies' sad and in his case, misapplied motto: "I'm normal!" Here everyone and no one is.
The wit is subtle and sharp as a scalpel. All actors are excellent--especially unnerving is van Warmerdam himself as the doomed ticket taker. Pay very close attention to the faces and names of characters. They are sign posts for things to come.