100% in agreement with henrik on THE MASTER. The movie is gloriously appointed, beautifully shot (wide screen, circa the 50s), scored, and to a point, stunningly acted. But it's built on sustained sort of creative self-indulgence -- with a complete disconnect from audience expectation, or satisfaction. These two men and their tumultuous (ultimately non-) relationship are offered up without any seeming awareness of what might make this story meaningful for those of us held hostage for almost 2 1/2 hours. The lack of genuine catharsis of any kind -- it all comes to very little -- makes the journey, or rather for us, ride, taxing, intellectually exhausting and emotionally unfullfilling. And the patently improvisational style to many scenes, which feature repetitive acting-class exercises in actor vs. act (the jail cell sequence exhibit A; fire and music vs. fire and music, and a lot of property smashing) never build, never have the shape required by drama. Yet is framed as if created with precision -- a stylistic paradox, so much messiness and odd formality at the same time.
To be fair, I stayed invested for over an hour, mesmerized in part by the admittedly riveting work by the two stars. But finally, their "work" shows, and not in a good way. We become more aware of actors demonstrating their craft than illuminating character, story, ideas. There is no real story. Events pile up, lavishly doctored with period detailing and texture, yet the bigger picture isn't really much of a picture, finally. I wanted to be swept away, or at least deeply disturbed -- bothered by what happens or does not. I would've been happy to be shaken, irritated, angered. But ultimately, I felt next to nothing. It feels bloated and empty, "artistic" in the sense of artists huffing and puffing to show their street cred.
"I'm a comedian, but in my spare time, things bother me." Garry Shandling
Updated On: 12/7/12 at 12:50 PM