If you have any grasp of…language and/or reality and/or human interaction, you will find yourself watching this movie with the overwhelming emotion being flabberghasted. As in, how could a thinking man make characters do and say these things. STRING THEORY, we get it. But still.
Ya know that feeling in Health class you got when some of your classmates— boys, it was always the boys!— got up to do skits and they were just so unfunny you found yourself shifting in your chair, cross and re-crossing your ankles, become suddenly self-conscious of everything you did and said for the next few hours because OHMYGOD you didn’t realize people could be so painfully…off?
That was this movie. And what hurt more were the moments where stuff did work. Maybe 5 minutes of the movie if you spliced it altogether. A pan of the water with sailboats rocking. A scene with her Dad where the energy clicked. Um? Not much else.
It was SO SAD. And painful. Very, very painful. That girl, is, unbearable at best.
I just have to wonder, WHERE ARE WOODY ALLEN’S FRIENDS? Why aren’t they like Dude what the fuck this sucks? Doesn’t he have honest-about-your-art friends? Somebody! Slap him around a little bit. I’d be more than happy to. Winkyfaaace.
