Twins come by into intense and spiteful psychosexual face-off as they hang approximately,bored, next to a petrol station for the summerHere is a film of almost three hours in length which by its close had been accorded that festival accolade that many directors dream of: walkouts. Seats cracked as they were slammed up and people were stomping out, and huffing with resentment. The seat-slamming was so widespread it was virtually a drum-roll.
In fact,this film has moments of real interest and visual beauty, but it is hampered by the most tiresome arthouse cliché: the idea that drifting sensual moodiness and listless sexual tension finally has to be crowned or possibly redeemed with violence. And when two sexy young people rather arbitrarily come across a handgun – a real handgun which moreover looks almost indistinguishable from the water-pistol with which they had earlier been fooling around well, or we know we contain to apply Chekhov’s rule approximately what happens to a firearm which is revealed in act one. Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com