I’ll admit it. I walked out.
It’s foul and endless. Pointless with a few poignant moments of beauty swallowed in so much sadness. It’s just the sort of film that makes me mad come Oscar season.
It will no doubt get nods galore. It may even win a few:
– for the director who dares shoot an entire film in 70 mm…
– for the actors who dare play believable cult leaders, boozers, and the women who love them.
I suddenly feel like the brave one though. I dared escape the dark theater when the screen looked too much like the ladies room of the YMCA on family swim day or when I heard enough language to take me back a trillion years to my time on the school bus. Those were the days …that I’d like to avoid reliving.
Brave retreat. Thai food. And home. The Master will not get my vote.