I did something last night that I have never done before. I walked out of a movie. I just picked up my stuff and left. I always try and stick with movies when I see them at the cinema, no matter how bad they are, but this experience was just too painful. Bare in mind, however, that I was crook as a dog and that I didn't even feel like going to the screening anyway, but if the film were great then it probably would have made my illness to the back of my mind. Alas, I was sitting there wanting to tear my hair out because of the drivel on screen and all along thinking I just wanted to start coughing. Not a good mix.
The film was one of my Melbourne International Film Festival screenings. It was the Greek drama Dogtooth. A film that sounded so interesting and had won the Un Certain Regard prize at Cannes earlier this year. Sounds promising, doesn't it? The film, however, was, for this viewer, disastrous. Taking all the cliches of pretentious art films and spinning them around in a blender. Of course I don't know what any of this claptrap means because the director, Giorgos Lanthimos, was being deliberately "vague" and "ambiguous" as so many pretentious people are want to be. This brief comment from someone at IMDb (it's positive if you can't tell) sums it up perfectly: "the metatextual reference to cinema as a 'literaly' [sic] and metaphorical weapon against rules and reiteration of theses and even dialogs [sic]" I know!
The moment I decided to leave the film was nothing particularly horrendous in itself, but when surrounded by everything else I had had enough. One scene I particularly didn't like involved a cat being brutally murdered and then having the family at the centre of the film get on all-fours and act like dogs. Yes, I don't know what it means either I was actually in the cinema! I don't know what happened in the final 40 minutes so I can't give you a proper review, but, to be perfectly honest with you, I don't care.