Seriously: This might be the most negative movie since "Henry, Portrait of a Serial Killer." The only light appears during flashbacks, just to reinforce how dire the straits of the protagonists have become.
Red prevails. Red always prevails. Oh, and pie. Everybody loves pie, isn't that so? There's no morale besides vengeance. Or perhaps payback by selling human flesh to the starving masses that have ignored you for too long. Sasha Baron Cohen as the con-artist con (ha!) barber is the perfect illustration of the movie's tone: comic, but woah, what a bastard. He's only in second place to the wannabe love interest feeding Gin to a kid. Or selling questionable meat pies, for that matter. Not to mention copious amounts of blood and murder and one-liners that will make you wonder whether your brains have been dislodged or, at the very least, whether Logan had just lost the love of his life or something when writing the lyrics.
Hells, this movie is dark. I mean, DARK. In all capital letters.
I have troubles rating this film. Perfectly set-up, well-directed, very-well-acted, -cast, -shot etc. But under what circumstances would I enjoy watching this moving picture again? Seriously – it's depressing, dire, and mean-spirited in a way that will make most modern cynics shake their heads at their own lack of cynicism.
The dialogue is tight, the film is cut sharply - no pun intended – but I really do wonder: Had an unknown director presented the concept to movie producers, would they have applauded or thrown him or her out? Or weighted him or her down with cement blocks and thrown into the Thames? Certainly not your everyday film. Not a feel-good-movie. Pretty pictures, great music, fabulous direction and acting, but Sorry, I still can't get over the absolute lack of optimism or pick-me-ups. Hells, the deaths aren't even satisfying in a "Die Hard" or "Macbeth" way. People die. Graphically, and with no purpose whatsoever apart from, well: Depp likes the colour of blood. And Bonham-Carter wants to sell some meat pies. Oh, yeah, Rickman is evil and has to die. Sure. Hence we'll kill off half of Fleet Street, too. People are hungry!
Dark, dark, dark. And I like it. Lots.
Red prevails. Red always prevails. Oh, and pie. Everybody loves pie, isn't that so? There's no morale besides vengeance. Or perhaps payback by selling human flesh to the starving masses that have ignored you for too long. Sasha Baron Cohen as the con-artist con (ha!) barber is the perfect illustration of the movie's tone: comic, but woah, what a bastard. He's only in second place to the wannabe love interest feeding Gin to a kid. Or selling questionable meat pies, for that matter. Not to mention copious amounts of blood and murder and one-liners that will make you wonder whether your brains have been dislodged or, at the very least, whether Logan had just lost the love of his life or something when writing the lyrics.
Hells, this movie is dark. I mean, DARK. In all capital letters.
I have troubles rating this film. Perfectly set-up, well-directed, very-well-acted, -cast, -shot etc. But under what circumstances would I enjoy watching this moving picture again? Seriously – it's depressing, dire, and mean-spirited in a way that will make most modern cynics shake their heads at their own lack of cynicism.
The dialogue is tight, the film is cut sharply - no pun intended – but I really do wonder: Had an unknown director presented the concept to movie producers, would they have applauded or thrown him or her out? Or weighted him or her down with cement blocks and thrown into the Thames? Certainly not your everyday film. Not a feel-good-movie. Pretty pictures, great music, fabulous direction and acting, but Sorry, I still can't get over the absolute lack of optimism or pick-me-ups. Hells, the deaths aren't even satisfying in a "Die Hard" or "Macbeth" way. People die. Graphically, and with no purpose whatsoever apart from, well: Depp likes the colour of blood. And Bonham-Carter wants to sell some meat pies. Oh, yeah, Rickman is evil and has to die. Sure. Hence we'll kill off half of Fleet Street, too. People are hungry!
Dark, dark, dark. And I like it. Lots.
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