Films invariably provoke emotions on the part of the viewer. I have been shocked, awed, amused, saddened and comforted by a feature length before but never have I been so annoyed. For the hour and 40 I was sat in my seat I was bombarded by a free-fall of blatant and obvious metaphors sandwiched between edited clips of the selfish tripe that was flowing from His and Her "grief-addled" minds.
The cinematography was brilliant, the shots were beautifully composed, most wouldn't be out of place as still images on their own. The sound and post production was perfect, a litany of heart thudding moments and breath holding captured by the crescendo of rushing winds and thudding acorns. But even these can't make up for the fallacies of the storyline.
He never left his therapist mindset. Even with his leg weighted with concrete, or as he was strangling his patient his face was blank. The film was essentially all about Her and her evolving stance on women, nature and their corresponding evil.
I'm sure a film student would love to study this piece as the bulls**t they could write on how sex juxtaposed with a dead tree symbolises this and that till the end of days. And indeed, the people who rated this film highly have plenty to wax lyrical about, but I didn't want to be force fed Freudian messages through talking foxes and circumcision via scissors as I find it a tedious affront on my intelligence and ability to come to my own conclusions.
The cinematography was brilliant, the shots were beautifully composed, most wouldn't be out of place as still images on their own. The sound and post production was perfect, a litany of heart thudding moments and breath holding captured by the crescendo of rushing winds and thudding acorns. But even these can't make up for the fallacies of the storyline.
He never left his therapist mindset. Even with his leg weighted with concrete, or as he was strangling his patient his face was blank. The film was essentially all about Her and her evolving stance on women, nature and their corresponding evil.
I'm sure a film student would love to study this piece as the bulls**t they could write on how sex juxtaposed with a dead tree symbolises this and that till the end of days. And indeed, the people who rated this film highly have plenty to wax lyrical about, but I didn't want to be force fed Freudian messages through talking foxes and circumcision via scissors as I find it a tedious affront on my intelligence and ability to come to my own conclusions.