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True Story (2015)
Crushes Under the Weight of Its Overwhelming Pretension
Aims for a Bennett Miller-esque clinical approach on the detachment and delusion of artistic insecurity, but the film itself is so scattered in its regards. A narrative so plodding it quite frequently trips over its transitions. Desperately attempts to release a grand statement on serious subjects it clearly lacks insight in, and as a result the final product is devoid of any soul and painstakingly yearns for a heartbeat.
The dour nature takes a brutal toll on the performances. The effort and stubbornness of Hill and Franco are straining to watch. Franco lays thick on the ghoulishness. At times he is compelling, but it is strictly one- note and deludes his character of any further mystery. Hill is too understated and never clearly emotes the complex state of mind of Finkle. Felicity Jones is given the most insulting, devastatingly thankless supportive wife role, but at least she injects some much needed passion into a deliriously dull work.