Tuesday, June 21, 2011

movie, the killer inside me, michael winterbottom

odd, farmhand black film noir that tries to marry its ho-hum cynicism to an aw shucks fervor but manages only a brief honeymoon of blissful tone.  affleck is dedicated without being loyal and is given one too many cheats to wink at.  its desperation is well earned in some parts, and if the finale is the kind of crazy the movie had previously doused, it is also almost enough to make one thankful for the drier lands those involved with its making seemed to have migrated from.  the brutality in many of its scenes is simultaneously numbing and calming-  one is relieved that there is a true act, but distressed at how completely affleck’s hobbyist has collected himself.      

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