I never thought much about Drive. Now the same director (a Cannes sweetheart) has made a film about pathologically narcissistic women who submit themselves to the sad, sad glamorous world of modelling, splashing it with color, blood, loud music, and necrophilia. If the despicable story was an allegory for the depths of filth these women descend to, I would've actually commended the movie. But the director obliquely signs his film's beginning and ending with the initials "NWR" (similar to YSL's logo) - which means all this shock and gore is an act of self-promotion, and an abhorring insult to the intelligence.
PS: This film caused walkouts during the Cannes Film Festival last month. I wonder why.
Mo says:
MoCrap!
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