Review: Summer Hours (2008)

5 09 2010

Recently, while out walking on a sunny summer Sunday, I found myself strolling through a cemetery.  I can’t necessarily explain how I landed there, but as I surveyed my surroundings I noted the graveyard’s amazing lack of color.  Brown grass and grey gravestones consumed my field of vision and not a single flower or flag offered relief.  Clearly this was a very old cemetery and the souls resting here had long since been forgotten.  As I made my rounds up and down the aisles, what began as a sadness at the edge of my heart bubbled up into deep grief as I considered the hundreds of lost stories lying six feet below my feet.  A dead child; a death on the battlefield; a young bride’s life cut short . . . stories so close yet out of my reach, gone.

Bearing a heavy ache, I struggled homeward and found my thoughts turning to the French film Summer Hours by the popular writer/director Olivier Assayas.  The film tells the story of three siblings who must decide what to do with the country estate and other objects left to them upon the death of their mother.  While outwardly a narrative about sibling relationships and life in the globalized 21st Century, at its heart the film poses important questions about what it means to remember one’s past and respect one’s own history.

The brilliance of the film lies in Mr. Assayas’ ability to tell a seemingly benign story all the while indicting us for our disregard of our own personal histories.  Perhaps “indict” is too strong a word here, since we feel a measure of grace from the filmmaker who clearly appreciates that we live in complicated times.  It seems his attack isn’t so much on his viewer then, but on a hurried, throwaway culture that celebrates youth, motion, and looking forward and makes little space for the elderly, rest, or a historical mindset.

The final scene of the film captures perfectly the tension between past and future when we find the granddaughter of the woman who has died holding a wild party at the quiet country estate.  As she runs down near the pond, she has a brief reflective moment remembering her grandmother’s words promising that she too will one day bring her grandchild down to that pond; a reality that will never come to pass due to the sale of the estate.  While her eyes moisten at the memory, she quickly recovers and history passes away as she runs back to the party with boyfriend in hand.

Summer Hours does not demand that you stop and pay attention to life’s grave markers.  You can certainly hurry through the film on your way to your next activity; yet, for those who pause to see, to listen, and to reflect, they alone have the unique opportunity to usher in a resurrection – the continuance of life after death.


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Review: Das Weisse Band (The White Ribbon) (2009)

24 05 2010

**Warning: Potential Spoilers Ahead.**

If you spend enough time around elderly people sooner or later one little old lady will lean toward another with a frown and say something like, “We would have never behaved like that when we were kids.”  And, by and large, she is probably right.  Also very likely true is the fact that when these little old ladies were youngsters some geriatric folks were exclaiming the same thing about them.  To say then that “there is nothing new under the sun” may sum it up nicely, but I find annoying those individuals who slap a Bible verse on a discussion like a bow on a package . . . all wrapped up nice and neat.  If The White Ribbon says anything, it is that stories, communities, and life are anything but nice and neat.

The White Ribbon tells the story of a small town in Northern Germany in the year prior to the outbreak of World War I.  The village experiences a series of unusual, and at times gruesome, events which lead the local school master to purpose a supposedly significant conspiracy theory.  While many a critic hold up this film as a powerful early sketch of those young minds who would one day rule Nazi Germany, I find little basis for such a conclusion.  While a person might create a convincing argument that this is the film’s point, one could as likely make a claim that the depravity of man is the moral of this story.

Personally, I think my little old lady with that disparaging eye may be more right than she realizes.  The young people in The White Ribbon do behave in a manner different from that of the adults, but not unlike.  Like a pendulum, sin is often reactive from generation to generation such that a push too hard in one direction leads to a response too strong in the other.  Yes, I refer to the heightened Protestant conservatism of Northern Germany in the early 20th Century as displayed here, but more so those individual evil acts which breed individual evil responses.  The actions of the youth in this film are the offspring of the atrocities propagated upon them by the adults.  No one is innocent here, and that may very well be the filmmaker’s point.

The director’s choice to shoot the film in black and white provides an opportunity for first-rate cinematography (of which the film has no lack), and more importantly makes visual that tension between good and evil, right and wrong.  White may not be so good after all and black not so evil, but then again it is hard to say.  If anything, The White Ribbon profoundly displays a world much grayer than most would care to imagine.  I wonder what my little old lady would say to that?


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Review: Madeo (Mother) (2009)

16 05 2010

Mother may not always know best or so it would seem in this whodunit, Hitchcockian Korean film.  Mother tells the story of a woman seeking to absolve her son of a murder charge.  With single-mindedness she undertakes this task, revealing that neither her crime-solving ability nor her parenting skills are what one would label “best.”  Like buckshot, her accusations haphazardly strike wrong targets or no target whatsoever.  All frenetic energy and no wit, the mother quickly discovers that her best may not be good enough as she searches for the killer and discovers a far more horrific truth that will unhinge her.

Whether intended or not, the film plays very much like a cinematic graphic novel with shot compositions, bizarre locations, and oft times inexplicable character actions flipping by like panels in a person’s mind’s eye.  Don’t get me wrong, the filmmakers have a genius ability to mix comedy, sex, and violence into perfect frames almost demanding static visual renderings.  Many of the shots are hauntingly beautiful, but tend to border on distraction when they cease to move the story forward.

The movie also brilliantly (but subtly) works at blurring the line between reality and fiction, normal and abnormal, leaving the audience off kilter.  While the effect of this effort proves successful in creating an almost surreal quality to the film, it also creates a barrier between the viewer and the characters.

Beyond its impressive cinematography and overall film composition, Mother has strong acting led by Hye-ja Kim playing the mother with an awe-inspiring blend of passion, fear, and comedy.  One could easily make an argument for why her character is more comedic than serious, and it is Ms. Kim’s ability to straddle that line with perfection that makes for a riveting performance here.

For all its positive qualities, Mother left a distaste in my mouth . . . or more aptly my heart.  It reminded me that when we demand our end or outcome to a situation and in so doing forego truth, we often get what we want but sacrifice peace (and likely a whole lot more).  How natural it is to grasp each other (especially our children), failing to recognize that it is only when we open our clenched fists that we are able receive a potentially greater prize.  Perhaps the moral of the story is that mothers in general do know best, but sometimes they too are led astray.


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Review: Tokyo Sonata (2008)

11 05 2010

This will not come as a shock for those who know me well, but I have a minuscule “must see” list.  I blame this on a heavy diet of Tinsel Town trash in my formative years and a blatant mistrust of movie trailers.  Or, it could be because I’m close-minded, but I’m going to give myself the benefit of the doubt today.  Tokyo Sonata, however, did make my exclusive list.

Sticking true to my New Year’s Resolution not to download films in an, um, illicit manner, I have waited (and waited) for this supposedly foreign film gem (Cannes Jury Prize winner no less) to make its way to DVD.  I found my appetite all the more roused when a friend, who did not make my same Resolution, informed me that Departures had nothing on Tokyo Sonata.

Lesson learned: friends who access films in a less than savory fashion cannot be trusted.  OK, that’s not wholly true, but in this case the reality proves the rule.  Tokyo Sonata sounds one long, dissonant note from beginning to end.  Why Cannes continues to recognize such cinematic ruckus escapes me?  I find myself wearied by the type of filmmaking found here, which takes its over-wrought “brokenness of humanity” theme and crams it down our throats for 120 minutes.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this film would have been better (or, at least, more honest) with a less “happy” ending.  The last five minutes seem so insincere, so disingenuous from that which came before that slapping it on made me lose all respect for the film.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m always in the mood to hear a good Für Elise (and it was strikingly beautiful compared to all the chaotic noise that preceded it), but I didn’t believe it.  Somewhere along the line (about 90 minutes in, I think), I just stopped believing the story (and by this I mean the characters).  Nonsense breeds nonsense and adding a beautiful piece of music at the end does not make it less so.

Admitting that I don’t understand Japanese culture may explain some of this film’s fat-fingered notes, but it does not go far enough to explain the almost immediately bizarre behavior that ushers forth from characters who have not earned such bizarreness.  Good story must stay true to its characters.  Sadly, the filmmakers here sacrifice their characters in their attempt to say something significant.

Tokyo Sonata has forced me to revisit my “must see” list.  Has another loud gong of a movie made it on?  Probably.  But have no fear, I will tell you all about it.  In the meantime, see Departures.  You can thank me later.


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Review: Så som i himmelen (As it is in Heaven) (2004)

27 03 2010

I recently stood before a large audience and told on myself.  I spoke about my true feelings and sheepishly removed the veil covering a deep brokenness.  Some say it took courage to undertake such a feat, I say it took desperation.  Meaningful relationships and true love come at such a price.  I think it a small cost to pay for the richness of knowing and being known.  What a joy to slip into each others’ lives like we do into a comfortable bath rob.  Naked beneath, pretense fled, leaving honest dialogue and a deep sense of belonging.  At its core, this is the story of As it is in Heaven.  A place where voices blend, people are seen, and love abounds.

A Swedish language film nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film, As it is in Heaven tells the story of Daniel Dareus, a physically and emotionally broken world famous conductor who returns to his hometown to learn again how to breath and to love.  As he settles into a town where no one remembers him, the local church choir solicits his help and he reluctantly accepts.  The result is a harmony far greater than that of voices; it’s the joining of lives and the development of rich community.

With an outstanding cast and powerful music, As it is in Heaven’s true success rests in its ability to tell a story that tears down the facades so common in religious communities (all communities, really) to celebrate flawed individuals while elevating our oneness.  Powerful portrayals of honesty and coming to terms with difficult truths abound in this film, yet it never feels heavy or too much for the audience to bear (to which I credit the music).  I again bow in homage to European cinema for casting the best actors for each roll and eschewing the need to fill the picture with the most physically attractive people who enter the casting room.

As it is in Heaven does not move at a blazing speed and the story is not without its formulaic elements, but pushing through those minor concerns will yield a happy harvest of joy for having seen a film that captures the truth of heaven like few others.  The aroma of eternity is found in the grace and right relationships so well displayed in this picture.  Don’t take my word for it, see Heaven for yourself.


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Review: Il y a longtemps que je t’aime (I’ve Loved You So Long) (2008)

21 02 2010

One summer during college, I worked at a youth camp. At the end of each two-week camp session, our resident bakers would prepare a special dessert. This culinary masterpiece — the Baked Alaska — contained a base of warm cake on which sat a decedent layer of cold vanilla ice cream followed by a topping of meringue. This dessert par excellence overwhelmed the taste buds with flavor and demanded slow savoring from its audience. Like pearls before swine, however, the campers scarfed it down with little regard for the Michelangelo before them.

Not I, however. In fact, near the end of the summer, I went to the kitchen to watch the creation of these true delicacies and there I discovered the painstaking labor required to bring about the balance of temperature and flavor that is the Baked Alaska. Like a precision clock, the bakers moved the warm cakes from the oven, applied the ice cream, and blow-torched the meringue to perfection.

I’ve Loved You So Long is cinematic Baked Alaska. A piece of film-making assembled with precision; slowly crafted to bring about a climax of rich goodness that demands savoring. Kristin Scott Thomas gives a tour de force performance as Juliette Fontaine, a woman recently released from prison for murder who moves in with her sister and her family. Every glance from Scott Thomas, every facial movement, speaks volumes more than her painstakingly extracted words. Like watching the creation of those exquisite desserts is this story of a woman beginning again to breath . . . and love.

Don’t expect a fast turning plot line with this film, but do anticipate the gradual creation of a masterpiece. The story itself may lose points for originality, but it more than makes up for it with its ability to couch scenes in the stuff of ordinary life. Never once did I catch myself saying, “Oh, please, that would never happen!” Change occurs over time and in the daily activities of life. We may not see it at first, but with each new smile, touch, or word spoken a gradual turning is revealed. And in I’ve Loved You So Long, that turning is mainly toward life and not death. A character in the film does choose the way of death and it stands in stark contrast to each decision Juliette makes toward life.

I have never hidden my love for films with a happy ending. Life is hard enough without having to maintain a steady diet of stories of suffering. Sure we may have to go down to go up, but by Jove what a pleasure to receive a Baked Alaska at the summit and not a shove down the next hill. I’ve Loved You So Long may require some descending, but the ascent will seem like all joy when you finally reach its rich conclusion.


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Review: 4 luni, 3 saptamâni si 2 zile (4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days) (2007)

12 11 2009

4-months-3weeks-2-daysI found myself deeply disturbed by 4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days. Yes, because it’s graphic in its display of the abortion act, but also because every scene and every character seems cold, hidden, and hard. Granted, Romania in the 1980s certainly lacked soft edges, but the manner of the film’s stark cinematography and the abrupt dialogue and actions of the characters regularly stunned me. Right down to its hard, unremarkable ending, I struggled to find a corner in this film where I could grieve for characters who were clearly suffering, but had grown used to hard lives and grim choices. Yet, hidden beneath its rough exterior, this film poignantly captures something of true friendship — the laying down of one’s self for the sake of another.

Special credit belongs to Anamaria Marinca, who plays her character Otilia with a remarkable blend of calm and business-likeness in spite of the fury clearly brewing beneath her skin. A truly breathtaking performance that probably deserves a second viewing, if only a person could suffer watching this film another time. Much like Vera Drake, 4 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days makes a compelling argument for why abortion is not a solitary choice and often has a profound impact on one’s community.

While watching this film was an eye-opening experience for me, and as much as I’d like to recommend that all teenagers see this film, I realize it’s a difficult film better suited for art house theaters than a classroom or a lazy Friday evening after a long week of work. For those interested in the subject matter or who are looking for something completely different from American movies, I encourage you to consider this finely crafted, somber piece of European cinema.


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Review: Låt den Rätte Komma In (Let the Right One in) (2008)

2 10 2009

Let the Right One InI have no right reviewing a vampire film. And, no, I don’t think seeing Twilight increases my credibility within this particular genre. Still, in an attempt to broaden my cinematic palate, I undertook a viewing of Let the Right One In; the result: a slight positive tingling in the taste buds. In spite of its laboriously slow pace, I found the film absolutely fascinating. The use of darkness and light, while likely not new for a vampire film, struck me as being both beautiful and horrific. The breathtaking cinematography, while not uncommon for a Swedish film, took on a whole new power for me here when deep red blood struck the brilliant white snow.

Beyond the film’s mesmerizing visuals, the thing that kept me chomping away at the neck of this story was the emphatic and genuine performances from the movie’s young leads — Kare Hedebrant as Oskar and Lina Leandersson as Eli. Both appear as actors for the first time here and their purity and innocence works marvels in contrast with the dark acts they undertake in pursuit of companionship.

In the DVD extras, director Tomas Alfredson notes that his film could be interpreted as having either an encouraging or discouraging ending depending on what the viewer believes will become of the future relationship between the protagonists. With my happy-ending mentality, it won’t come as a surprise that I found the film somewhat uplifting in spite of the gore and horror I struggled to stomach throughout. I’m glad I let this film in, even if I think it too gruesome to recommend to most. If you love small stories or are weary of the same-ole, same-ole in your cinematic diet, you might also do well to bite into this vampire tale.


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Review: Cidade de Deus (City of God) (2002)

27 09 2009

City of GodI clearly see the attraction of City of God with its gripping characters, gritty backdrop, and violent turns. All this, and based on a true story to give it that added respectability. I wanted to like it because I recognize the value of the film as a work of cinematic art. Rarely have I seen a film so conscious of space and surrounding, and so willing to let the camera invade that space. I can’t say that I remember a specific instance in the film when the camera bumped into an actor or a part of the set decoration, but I felt very much that it could and that it rightly wouldn’t be edited out.

One might characterize the cinematography as “gritty” or “real,” but whatever you call it there is no doubt it makes for a compelling and engaging visual experience. Cinematographer Cesar Charlone rightly earned an Oscar nomination here. And alongside Mr. Charlone, I want to give credit to the film’s editor Daniel Rezende (also nominated for an Academy Award) who immaculately pulled together a very complicated story and made it understandable.

Appreciating City of God as a wonderfully crafted piece of art only makes the following admission more painful — I did not enjoy this film very much. Now, there is a certain part of me that understands that difficult films about hard places and gruesome realities perhaps shouldn’t be terribly enjoyable; yet, a tension exists because my pride says I should do more than recognize good art, I should enjoy it. I think a significant reason why I didn’t connect with the film is because the characters and their stories were so “other” than my own. Of course, we’re all human, but I struggled to relate to these particular humans and this left me unanchored to the narrative. At the end of the day, perhaps I have to treat City of God like I do a Salvador Dali painting — to stand in awe of its artistic mastery, but aloof from its subject.

To those interested in cinematic art, especially first-rate camera and editing work, City of God is required viewing. For everyone else, skip it and see Sin Nombre instead for, while equally violent in parts, this film has significantly more heart.


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Review: Sin Nombre (2009)

7 09 2009

Sin NombreSin Nombre compelling coalesces two bittersweet stories into a powerful tale of relationship, loss, and the promise of a new life. The film opens in Mexico where we meet teenage gang member El Casper (deftly acted by newcomer Edgar Flores) whose commitment to his gang wanes as he falls in love and dreams of an alternate future. However, when tragedy strikes, Casper makes a choice that leads him down a new path where he connects with Sayra and her father who are traveling from Guatemala to the Texas border. Sayra’s story poignantly details the journey and the struggle that people undertake to make it to America.

When I say that the film is “bittersweet,” I would do better to capitalize the word BITTER for the movie does have a grave air about it that can’t be shaken by the picturesque Mexican countryside or the beauty of the people who populate the picture. As an American, I may pine for a happy ending where good characters find new life and the bad guys take it on the chin, but this is not an American tale and as heartbreaking as it is to accept, Sin Nombre tells a true-to-life story of what many people south of the border sacrifice to come to this country.

Sin Nombre literally means “without name” (or “nameless”) and while every character in the film does, in fact, have a name, the title fits well for it aptly describes the mass of people who make the long and arduous trip to the American border. Even more, it reflects perfectly the gang life where one loses his or her given name to take on an alternate gang title. We see this clearly in the film as Casper moves further away from his gang he becomes more his true self and is no longer sin nombre.

Along with its strong acting and beautiful cinematography, Sin Nombre’s director Cary Fukunaga deserves special recognition not only for writing the story, but for capturing glimpses of hope and human kindness even in the midst of great poverty and heartbreak. I believe it’s these little nods toward the light (like refreshing limes thrown to weary travelers) that steel a viewer’s courage to press on in their viewing of this oft times dark film.

For those who found City of God or The Motorcycle Diaries compelling, Sin Nombre won’t be much of a stretch. For everyone else, if you can stomach a little bitterness and some moments of intense violence, I recommend this film as it will necessarily force you to experience a world that is likely very different from your own but one with which your heart can easily relate.


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Review: El Laberinto del Fauno (Pan’s Labyrinth) (2006)

5 09 2009

Pan's LabyrinthOnce again, I’ve missed something. Here’s a film which has spellbound fantasy film fans and aroused hope in the hearts of many Hobbit lovers that director Guillermo Del Toro will do right by that classic Tolkien tale. I just don’t see it. Yes, Pan’s Labyrinth has amazing art direction and a wonderful Goya-esque quality, and these are perhaps worthy enough elements to excite a Hobbit fanatic, but I felt Del Toro left little to the imagination in his “real world” scenes.

Now, I credit myself as a sophisticated individual who doesn’t get all bent out of shape over violence, foul language, or sexual content in his films, but truthfully I have little patience for anything graphic that does not serve a purpose. To Del Toro’s credit, the extreme violence in this picture does have a point (to show Captain Vidal’s ruthlessness), but Del Toro chooses an atomic bomb where a hand grenade would have done the trick.

Why do directors so often insist on showing their audiences every dot and tittle thereby eliminating one of their strongest cinematic allies — the viewer’s imagination? Spielberg got it right in Jaws and Shyamalan balanced it perfectly in The Village, but Del Toro misses his chance here. Well, you say, Spielberg and Shyamalan made those choices to induce fear while Del Toro had something else in mind. Perhaps, but at the end of the day wasn’t the point to establish that Captain Vidal was a mean character who wrought fear in the hearts of his men and particularly in young Ofelia? The film’s violence actually became a point of distraction for me as Del Toro attempted to one-up himself on how gruesome he could make the next action taken by his tyrannical antagonist. Less would have most certainly been more here.

Violence aside, the story mostly works and the whole creative team from make-up to costume design to cinematography do an amazing job of creating a brown canvas that serves as the perfect backdrop for the periodic sparkles of color that show up now and then throughout the course of the film (especially in the fantasy scenes).

I hardly feel comfortable recommending Pan’s Labyrinth due to its excessive violence; yet, for those viewers who love fantasy or have a particular passion for Francisco Goya, you could do far worse than this film.


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Review: Paradise Now (2005)

17 08 2009

Paradise NowI actually saw Paradise Now over a month ago and have waited to write my review because I didn’t have the words to describe my feelings concerning this film. For some reason, this movie rubbed me the wrong way. Perhaps that’s the point, but I’m not sure the chaffing was due to the quality of the filmmaking.

My greatest struggle in this film centered on the believeabilty of the main character Said (Kais Nashif). The choices made by Said, if accurate to reality, made no sense to me. Again, this may be the point. But to say that Westerners and those in the Middle East don’t understand the world in the same way is not really saying much of anything. What is it exactly (or, at least, more exactly) that causes or encourages this gulf in worldview? Addressing that question would have made for more interesting viewing. Yet, as I’ve said in other reviews, to knock a story for not addressing a question you want it to address is unfair. Still, concerning the story they have chosen to tell, it is one that I neither comprehended nor enjoyed terribly much.


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Review: La Vie en Rose (La Mome) (2007)

25 07 2009

La Vie En RoseLa Vie en Rose‘s success hinges solely on the portrayal of Edith Piaf by Marion Cotillard. Ms. Cotillard is brilliant and worthy of the Academy Award she garnered for this film. Outside of her mesmerizing performance, however, this film isn’t particular good. Oh, the music is just fine, but the narrative through-line is muddled by too much jumping around in Piaf’s life. I never knew where I was, how old Piaf was, or exactly what stage of her career she was in. Granted, I’m not familiar with the person of Piaf, so maybe this chronological shake-up helped the uber-familiar French viewer, but for me it was confusing and unnecessary.

This would have been a much better film were it told in chronological order and told much shorter. There is no reason whatsoever that it needed to be 140 minutes. A tight 120 minutes would have served the audience better without losing anything of importance in relaying the story or character of Edith Piaf.

Overall, I would recommend seeing the film if you’re a fan of Piaf or you simply want to see Cotillard’s breath-taking performance.  If you fall into neither of these catagories, might I instead suggest Amelie as a much more enjoyable French film alternative.


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Review: Les invasions barbares (The Barbarian Invasions) (2003)

8 07 2009

The Barbarian InvasionsLet me begin by confessing that I didn’t see The Decline of the American Empire to which The Barbarian Invasions plays sequel. Had I seen the first, perhaps I would have like the second more.

Here’s the plain truth: I didn’t like this film very much. I didn’t find it terribly funny and I don’t think it came to many dramatic conclusions. Granted, it’s about death — a conclusion that comes whether wanted or reasoned.  Still, I desired something deeper or more heartfelt or more hopeful. I guess that’s it, I wanted more hope (silly me, why then did I choose a French-Canadian co-production?). I appreciated that the filmmakers attempted to show what a mended father-son relationship could look like and that it highlighted the value of life-long friendship.  At the end of the day, however, The Barbarian Invasions left me cold with its gray color palette and the unbending will of its dying protagonist.


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Review: Schultze Gets the Blues (2005)

30 06 2009

schultze_gets_the_blues_ver2Schultze Gets the Blues surprises in its ability to take randomness to the next level. I can say with sincerity that this film is perhaps the most comically bizarre piece of cinema I have seen to date. Frame follows frame and scene follows scene with as much impetus as a child headed to the principal’s office. The director seems in no hurry to get anyway fast, or really, anywhere at all. Dialogue is so sparse in the film and provides so little insight into the inner realities of the characters that one (almost) wishes there was no dialogue at all. The beautiful cinematography can certainly stand alone and carry what little story there is to bear. I was surprised, however, by the lack of sound in a film that bills itself as being about music.

Now, as to whether Schultze Gets the Blues is an enjoyable movie to watch, the answer is emphatically “NO.” It is worse than watching paint dry because it seemingly promises so much more than dry paint. It promises, according to its tag line, a glimpse into the re-tuning of a person’s soul. That’s a pretty hefty claim, but I was open to the possibility; however, as random scene followed random scene I slowly lost track of Schultze’s soul, my soul, and really the idea that souls exist at all. It was that painful.

And, if the “Most Random Film” prize wasn’t enough, Schultze Gets the Blues certainly deserves the blue ribbon for “Most Anti-Climatic Film.” What an ending!?! I actually laughed out loud as the credits began to roll . . . partially because the conclusion mocked me for having hoped for something more meaningful, but mostly out of glee for finally coming to the end of this miserable film.


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