C-Baby and I watched The Lovers on the Bridge this weekend, which was recommended to her by someone who should be stripped of all rights and deported. It's a Frenchity-Frenchish film about a couple of mentally ill losers who do all sorts of unbelievable things while beating the crap out of each other, and feels as if it were written and directed by a 13-year old Goth girl during detention. It features such realistic scenes as a woman leaving her eye-surgeon husband for a violently insane homeless person, and an admirably staged close-up of a finger being blown off. Let's just say that the scene where an innocent man is burned to death is one of the more uplifting moments of the film.
Ebert said of Lovers, "It has grand gestures and touching moments of truth, perched precariously on a foundation of horsefeathers." I would adjust that slightly to say, "It has shit gestures and shitty moments of shit, perched precariously on a foundation of suckassness."
I defy anyone to tell me why all copies of this movie should not be destroyed.
Monday, August 15, 2005