There's no escaping the fact that this is a nasty,
vicious little film — the climax is startlingly unpleasant.
Not exact matches
Don't Breathe, only his second feature
film, is further proof of that, this time telling a
vicious, claustrophobic
little tale that buries you in silence.
The
film starts with a prologue sequence in which a rich aristocrat (a blink - and - you'll - miss - him cameo by Paul Reubens) discovers his wife has given birth to a
vicious little monstrosity with flippers for hands.
Late in the
film, Ribisi asks Brolin whether maybe there's something a
little troubling or even hypocritical about their gangster - smashing squad trying to destroy Cohen's empire using tactics even the
vicious Cohen might find excessively destructive, but the
film is so unrelentingly positive and unambiguous in its depiction of righteous violence that this stab at moral ambiguity feels arbitrary and halfhearted.
But, far too much of Three Billboards trumps its humanity and empathy with
vicious cynicism, which makes its goal of at least partially redeeming a handful of characters feel like
little more than a hollow stab at stamping some sense of humanity on a
film that otherwise wallows in the worst of it.
Other than crystallizing that Powers Boothe's Senator Roark - who has already been established as
vicious - is also utterly heartless, «The Long Bad Night» adds
little to the
film as a whole.
The
film's opening shows an inebriated Baker and her fellow press mates, partying hard to the tune of House of Pain's «Jump Around», because yes, even conflict journalists like to get a
little wasted in the Middle East, while a
vicious war surrounds them.