I'll Sleep When I'm Dead, directed by Justin Krook, is a heart-pumping yet heart-wrenching documentary about one of the most eminent DJs working today: Steve Aoki. In the lead-up to Aoki's ... See full summary »
A young female medium on tour sees a hitman killing a whistleblower in her vision. The killer finds out about this and plans to kill her as well. The skeptical police, her manager father and a curious journalist try to protect her.
Will Graham is a gangster who has left the life of crime and is living in the countryside. He comes out of hiding to investigate the death of his brother when he learns that he committed suicide. Charlotte Rampling is his old girlfriend who owns a restaurant. Boad is the villain responsible for the bad things that happened to Will's brother.Written by
Andrea Barney <email@example.com>
How much was he turning? There was nearly eleven grand in that flat. You don't get that sort of money dealing the odd gram.
He was webbed up with all the beautiful people. They have more money than sense. He stiffed them a little. They didn't have a clue what they were buying. They get off on a line of powdered fucking rat shit.
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Composed by Simon Fisher-Turner (as Simon Fisher Turner) and Robin Rimbaud
Recorded by Simon Fisher-Turner (as SFT) and Scanner
Published by Mute Song Ltd and 3MV Music Publishing/Big Life Music Ltd
Courtesy of Sulphur Records See more »
As you might guess, I'm not Clive Owen's biggest fan, having suffered through his woodenly monotonous performances, but I forced myself to see this because Mike Hodges has made some good films in the past (as well as cack like MORONS FROM OUTER SPACE). Sadly, this manages to be even worse than MORONS, a numbingly tedious movie where the semi-comatose leads are at least three hours behind the audience in guessing the plot. The shock revelation was obvious from the start and Hodges never makes you interested in getting there. He's not helped by his cast. They're either overacting like McDowell or Meyers or totally incapable of showing signs of life, like Rampling and Owen. Even before it was invented Rampling has always looked like she's had too much botox, but inexperienced filmgoers might think she'd OD'd here she's so stiff. Her expression doesn't change from its deathmask once. Owen is more hopeless than usual, shuffling through like a zombie from a cheap George Romero ripoff. He still can't act and his vocal performance is still like a bored photocopier salesman demonstrating some clapped out machine with one eye on the clock for the pub's opening.
Contrary to other posters, it's not thoughtful or atmospheric. The plot is obvious, the characters infantile. There's no depth, no ideas, just a dragging running time to fill out. And it is achingly slow in the doing it. From a first-timer this picture would have been laughed out of the office at script stage it's so empty and predictable.
British audiences shunned the film (as they did CROUPIER) but Americans might just mistake his accent for a performance. But for the rest of us, it's another pitiful performance in the dullest British gangster film of the past twenty years. That's quite an achievement, but it's the film's only one.
If you really want to see a good new British revenge movie, check out Dead Man's Shoes instead - that really is the business. This is just a photocopy of a photocopy.
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