Under the Skin (1:48, R) — 4 — SF; 3rd string, original; OSIT chauvinists
I realize that lately I've been handing out mainly 6es and 7s, but that doesn't mean I've abandoned all critical judgment, it just happens to be a coincidental run of pretty good movies.
To reassure you that, yes, there are worse flix out there, I cite for you the OTHER film in which Scartlett Johanssen stars this month: Under the Skin, a no-bones-about-it art film playing at Sundance Cinema. Based on its artistic merits alone, it deserves a 3, but my reviews are my personal opinions, so it gets bumped into the up-to-you range due to the many opportunities to watch Ms. Johanssen disrobe. YMMV.
You can tell right off the bat that it's going to be pretentious when the opening 15 seconds comprise a silent black screen, and the rest of the opening minute or 2 is a tiny pinpoint of white light in the center ssssllllllooooowwwwwllllyyy growing larger and transforming into a series of shiny circular shapes that slllloooowwwwwllllyyyy morph into each other. This motif is apparently offered sui generis and never recurs. So, check mark for "pretentious".
The check mark for "tedious" is justified by the glacial pacing, best exemplified by 20% of the movie being medium shots of our nameless protagonist behind the wheel of her big white panel van, devoid of expression, driving around what appears to be Edinburgh looking for lone male pedestrians. Really, a little of this would've gone a long way, but apparently Director Jonathan Glazer enjoyed extended periods of watching his star at work.
The extremely limited dialog is all vapid small talk exchanged in mumbles or chowder-thick Scottish accents, adequate to establish a mood and obviously not intended to convey any useful or interesting information, as this seems to be a cognition-free zone.
Intermittently a mystery motorcycle guy careens buzzingly down a deserted highway for about 30 seconds, to no obvious purpose and without any visible connection to the rest of the story.
Oh, the SF angle. She's an alien, as we finally see in the last 5 minutes of the movie. But by then we'd inferred that something bizarre was up, due to the repeated scenes of her and a series of guys walking sssllllloooowwwwllllyyyy across all-white or all-black backgrounds, dropping articles of clothing as they go.
If you're looking for a GOOD off-beat movie with "skin" in the title, go for Pedro Almodovar's 2011 The Skin I Live In.
I realize that lately I've been handing out mainly 6es and 7s, but that doesn't mean I've abandoned all critical judgment, it just happens to be a coincidental run of pretty good movies.
To reassure you that, yes, there are worse flix out there, I cite for you the OTHER film in which Scartlett Johanssen stars this month: Under the Skin, a no-bones-about-it art film playing at Sundance Cinema. Based on its artistic merits alone, it deserves a 3, but my reviews are my personal opinions, so it gets bumped into the up-to-you range due to the many opportunities to watch Ms. Johanssen disrobe. YMMV.
You can tell right off the bat that it's going to be pretentious when the opening 15 seconds comprise a silent black screen, and the rest of the opening minute or 2 is a tiny pinpoint of white light in the center ssssllllllooooowwwwwllllyyy growing larger and transforming into a series of shiny circular shapes that slllloooowwwwwllllyyyy morph into each other. This motif is apparently offered sui generis and never recurs. So, check mark for "pretentious".
The check mark for "tedious" is justified by the glacial pacing, best exemplified by 20% of the movie being medium shots of our nameless protagonist behind the wheel of her big white panel van, devoid of expression, driving around what appears to be Edinburgh looking for lone male pedestrians. Really, a little of this would've gone a long way, but apparently Director Jonathan Glazer enjoyed extended periods of watching his star at work.
The extremely limited dialog is all vapid small talk exchanged in mumbles or chowder-thick Scottish accents, adequate to establish a mood and obviously not intended to convey any useful or interesting information, as this seems to be a cognition-free zone.
Intermittently a mystery motorcycle guy careens buzzingly down a deserted highway for about 30 seconds, to no obvious purpose and without any visible connection to the rest of the story.
Oh, the SF angle. She's an alien, as we finally see in the last 5 minutes of the movie. But by then we'd inferred that something bizarre was up, due to the repeated scenes of her and a series of guys walking sssllllloooowwwwllllyyyy across all-white or all-black backgrounds, dropping articles of clothing as they go.
If you're looking for a GOOD off-beat movie with "skin" in the title, go for Pedro Almodovar's 2011 The Skin I Live In.