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I rushed home after seeing this movie, while my feelings were still livid in my head (yes and I do mean LIVID) I originally went because Kristin Scott Thomas is in it and she is such an underrated and brilliant performer that I felt sure her choice of script wouldn't steer me wrong. (Was I wrong!) I never cared much for Ethan Hawke (and still don't) Oh dear. Oh dear. Didn't this style of film go out in the 70's? Was was it? New Wave? Neo-Realist? Do we not need a plot? Recognizable characters? A frame of reference? (Was it all just mastabatory visions of an insane killer's mind? ) I could find no charm, no logic, no sense at all in this mish-mash of (albeit periodically gorgeous) tedius camera work. Decaying walls, bugs, tree bark and of course the final lingering shot of the Polish waitress with a vacuous expression on her face. Meaningful to someone perhaps but did I care about any of it? Yawn. Not one little bit. The 1 out of 10 kudo is for the all too brief glimpse of the French wife's magnificent white apartment.
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